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... the brothers rolled their wagon across the rolling grasslands. The oxen plodded steady, dragging behind them crates of supplies. Ahead stretched peaceful plains, dotted with low huts and tilled fields. Smoke rose from cooking fires, and the air smelled of woodsmoke and damp earth. The orcs here were bent to the earth, farming beans and barley, their children running barefoot in the dirt. It was a simple sight, and one that made Simon’s chest ache with hope, while Schalezusk’s fists clenched with ...

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