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... apped in the icy Sarmatian wind.
Snow dusted the ridgelines, clinging to pine boughs and helms alike, as Medellin Valdesca stood at the fore of her column, eyes narrowed against the frozen light.
They called her the Silver Wolf — for the ash-pale braid that hung past her shoulders, for the color of her war-plate, and for the merciless precision with which she tore through her enemies.
At just twenty-two, she had already commanded more victories than most ...
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