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... unds of the Church, surrounded by dense forests, quickly darkened, making it seem like the dead of night.

“Brother.”

At that, Martte MacGovern turned away from the window.

“Randol,” he called back, nodding at his younger brother. “Have you kept up with your training? You’ve always been so diligent, even back at the mansion. It feels like ages since I last held a sword here.”

“Join me, then. We can’t use real weapons, but the Church allows wooden swords for sparrin ...

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