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Chapter 55: Always Pushed
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... s as if the sky itself had become unsure—ash-colored and slow, casting a pallid light over the rooftops of a city that refused to sleep. Smoke from foundries mixed with mist in the avenues. Telegraphs clattered nonstop from the central station, relaying reports from every corner of Aragon and beyond.
In the palace war room, Lancelot sat surrounded not by nobles or ministers, but by spies.
The walls were shuttered. Chandeliers dimmed. Maps replaced by blot-stained scrolls and inte ...
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