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| How goes it in your duchy? | |
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| Not well. The forests are in unrest. Every oak and birch trembles in fear that Attila's armies will rampage through and destroy the forest. How are things in yours? | |
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| It is horrible. Our towns are plagued with tubercular street performers, who have caused the populace to refuse to leave their houses. | |
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| Sorry to hear that. But prithee, I still think we've got it worse. | |
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| And I don't see it that way ... Tell you what, why don't we trade maladies? | |
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| The deal is sealed. Let the news of the trade ring forth throughout the Empire: COUGH MIMES FOR TREE HUN DREAD! | |
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