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... ch, in his opinion, was glorious. He stumbled forward as Medusa pulled him by the collar, her boots dragging his half-limp frame down the dirt path just outside the now shattered tavern.
"Careful!" he barked. "I’m a fucking warlord, not some sack of grain!"
"You’re a sack of something," she muttered, not breaking stride. "Definitely not dignity."
Mikhail’s head lolled back as he grinned at the stars overhead. A cut just above his eyebrow was bleeding into one eye, and he ...
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