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... erlooking the fortified camp, Rhys watched lanterns bloom at measured intervals, the perimeter taking shape with professional efficiency—ditches scraped, stakes driven, sentries posted in overlapping arcs. Fires were kept low. Smoke was managed. This was not panic.

It was restraint under strain.

"They’re disciplined," Caria murmured. "Even now."

"Which makes this harder on them," Rhys replied. "They can feel something’s wrong, but they can’t justify acting on it."

...

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