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... lagers who had remained behind. He wiped the fresh drakken blood off of his sword, and even Randal had squat down to wipe the sword clean using the snow, melting it to rinse his blade as he had done before.

Akrat pulled his sword out of a soldier’s chest, letting the drakken soldier drop down. Bili stood behind him, his blade black still, not yet wet from blood, but ready to fight.

The villagers stared at the white cloaked Royal Guard, and their worst nightmare, a Deathsinger. Ev ...

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