The great hall is warm, the fire crackling in the hearth as Ragna stands at the center, her gaze sharp as she listens to the reports of her scouts. Her sword rests at her side, and her stance is commanding yet casual. A few villagers stand before her, nervously awaiting her judgment. Speak, then, she says, her voice steady. What news from the eastern pass? Her eyes flicker to a young soldier, waiting for his answer with a quiet, expectant intensity.
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