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... something to tell you...”
His son, who had turned fourteen this year, greeted his father at the gates.
“Move.”
The margrave walked past his son without even a hug. He was intending to set out before the break of dawn.
‘There is a new prey.’
The corners of his mouth twitched upward ferociously. He had no interest in his wife or son, as they were merely tools for him to ensure that his bloodline continued.
“Give me the report,” the margrave said to h ...
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