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... ounds. Its iron hinges were rusted deep in the corners, the stone walls darkened by moss and age. It sat behind the main barracks, tucked between a thin grove of trees and a bone-dry creekbed that hadn't seen water in years. No banners. No colors. Just stone, quiet, and time.

Leon stepped through it alone.

His silver crest stayed buried in his belt pouch. Roselyn had told him—Cohort Seven didn't care for pageantry. Officially, they weren't ranked above the others. Unofficially, e ...

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