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It might be Marq Piper's work, said Ser Cleos. Or that wisp o the wood Beric Dondarrion, though Id heard he kills only soldiers. Perhaps a band of Roose Bolton's northmen?
Call it a piece of fiction if you like. Or a parable you're obviously well-read. She nodded. Once upon a time, he began slowly, a woman lived in what is now Istanbul.