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... nt mutts. Weapons stayed sheathed, though many of their hands hovered nervously near hilts or axe handles — old habits dying slow, stubborn deaths.

Ludwig walked in silence, a step behind them, Oathcarver slung lazily over his shoulder.

The black blade hung there like an executioner's promise, its sheer presence ensuring none dared act foolishly.

The rest of the group followed.

Timur, arms folded, wore the same exasperated patience of a father indulging a reckless ...

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