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Chapter 677: Open up(4)
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... .
Arnold sat still beneath the heavy canvas of his tent, its silence pierced only by the occasional creak of leather or the distant clatter of a restless camp.
His eyes drifted again across the familiar fragments of his exile,objects that had not changed in weeks, yet seemed to weigh more with each passing day. The dried ink stains on parchment left from unfinished letters.
He had written them for Cretio and for his daughter; the first died , the other he divorced.
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