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Chapter 178 - 173: Buried Roots (2)
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... and morning ink hung in the air, mingling faintly with the citrus oil used to polish the curved spine of the Emperor’s desk. The sunset light filtered through high arched windows, gilding the imperial seal stamped onto a stack of treaties awaiting signatures. Damian stood in front of the map table, sleeves rolled up, gold cufflinks abandoned to one side, eyes narrowed at the expanding web of alliances sprawled across the southern border.
Astana stood beside him, motionless except for a ...
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