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... art of the new day. The wind carried the stench of burning oil, black powder, and blood thick enough to make even veteran soldiers gag. From the stronghold, Captain Braedon watched the low mist swirl across the plains, crawling through the no-man's-land like a living thing.
They all knew the next attack was coming.
He tightened the straps on his chest plate, his fingers pausing only when a low thrum of drums echoed faintly in the distance.
Then a second beat joined it. ...
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