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... ed.
After 5,000 damned wars, faces and names should become blurred.
Glynt set down his latest bottle shakily, far too weakened to throw it to the ground in disgust. When he first came into this stupid tavern he had hoped to drown out everything in his brain.
He wasn't dumb. He knew that this dungeon wouldn't be peaceful for long.
Not a damn thing was peaceful.
Childhood, love, charity, peace.
Nothing was peaceful.
Most were lucky and never ...
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