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Chapter 115: Gramr
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Chapter 117: Betrayal
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... f Falaise.
Men shouted. Shields clattered. Crossbow strings thrummed like taut sinew.
Robert stood at the edge of the inner bailey, hands clasped behind his back, eyes sharp beneath a fur-lined mantle.
A drizzle clung to his shoulders, but he paid it no mind. The rain of Normandy was an old friend.
Beside him walked Gautier, Marshal of the realm; grizzled, scarred, and grim as an old oak split by lightning.
The marshal’s mail chimed softly as he moved, boo ...
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