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Chapter 175: The Grey Fields
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Chapter 177: Hard-Shell Tactics
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... nto the valley. It clung to the stone walls of the village like wet wool.
Vane walked down the main thoroughfare. His spear rested on his shoulder. His tactical boots made heavy and sucking sounds in the mud. Beside him Isole kept her hood up. She scanned the darkened windows of the cottages with a look of quiet unease.
The village of Mourn-Hold was not dead. But it was dying.
People moved through the mist with the slow and dragging gait of the exhausted. A blacksmith str ...
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