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... gold rays burning through the heavy mist that clung to the foothills like the ghost of some ancient siege. The silence of anticipation fractured under the weight of marching boots, the crack of musket-locks, and the hum of magic weaving through the disciplined ranks of the Threians.

They came in columns, tight and precise, shields and bayonets gleaming, banners snapping in the frigid wind. The Royal Standard of Threia...an eagle clutching a bolt of lightning...rose high above the center ...

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