The scent of victory in the northern mountains was always laced with the bitter tang of iron and mortality. Within the stone courtyard of Obsidian Keep, pack healers worked alongside apprentices, binding wounds and boiling willow bark tea for the warriors who had clashed with the Silverfang infiltrators. The mood was defiant, yet an undercurrent of tension crackled through the cold air. Every warrior knew that five dead assassins would…
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