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Chapter 484 - The Mustering of the Phoenix Legion

At dawn, the training ground of the palace quaked beneath the thunder of boots and hooves. Northem's banners—black trimmed with gold, emblazoned with the golden eagle wreathed in fire—snapped in the sharp morning wind.

At the heart of the tumult stood the Phoenix Legion. They rose like living flames against the pale sky, heralding the tide of soldiers flooding in from every district. The air was thick and raw with the mingled scents of sweat, oiled steel, and the acrid smoke of forges that had roared through the night without rest.

Prince Alaric strode among them, his presence enough to steady trembling hands and stiffen weary spines. Behind him walked Aragon and Vaskar—no longer the shadows of guards, but princes revealed, their bearing commanding respect even from those who doubted them. Yet the gazes that followed them were not all reverent; suspicion simmered in the eyes of certain officers, their whispers coiling like smoke.

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