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... ure cutting a proud line through the road as Lord Xanthios’ contingent finally joined the royal host. The morning sun was bright, casting golden light over the rolling field just outside the city of Florium, now a sea of tents, pavilions, fires, and soldiers moving like ants.

Lucius rode silently behind Lord Xanthios, his sharp eyes drinking in every detail. Despite himself, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer scale of it. The royal host—Alpheo’s pride, gathered from loyalist lords ...

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