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... /p>

The last of the skeletons stumbles into the throne room, its rusty sword dragging behind it with a scraping noise that makes my teeth itch.

“Okay, so this is all of them?” I ask, glancing around at the amassed crowd of bony sentinels. The throne room looks like an undead pep rally. One skeleton idly scratches the top of its skull.

Walter taps his chinbone, counts silently, then nods. “Fifty-five. All present.” He snaps his fingers, and a weathered scroll materializes in hi ...

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