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... p> The registrar muttered a curse under his breath, wrapping his coat tight around his body and adding a few more logs to the nearby stove. However, this provided no respite.
Winter was approaching, and the bone-chilling winds foretold the onset of a cold spell. Yet, for the registrar, this was not the worst part. Cold, famine, war – the whole year offered little hope, yet even so, he would rather brave the harsh weather here than go to the front lines to fight those damned Evil God Cult ...
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