The high mountain meadow of the Silver Basin, nestled five miles south of the Frost Gate, was blanketed in pristine white snow that sparkled like crushed diamonds beneath the full winter moon. Encamped beneath the towering spruce trees stood the Royal Legion of Frost Peak: five hundred silver-armored Lycan warriors, forty frost-archers, and four massive war-mammoths draped in enchanted barding. There was no drunken revelry, no coarse shouting; the camp…
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