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Chapter 117: THE GHOSTS OF THE PAST
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Chapter 119: THE POISON WATER
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For the first time in many moons, the courtyard of Winterfell was not filled with the harsh ringing of hammers on anvils or the steady, rhythmic tramp of marching boots. The forges still burned, but the great host of the North had set aside their armor for the day.
They had crushed the southern zealots in the mud of the Neck, and the true war against the dead still waited in the deep snows beyond the Wall. Sandwiched between these two brutal realities, Eddard Stark had decreed a day ...
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