"Aw Come. ’ Kimble frowned direfully, staring at the weapon with its gold hilt and decorative pattern down the blade. Maybe others that I do not know about. I care not. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. It was just as easy to pretend she was watching one when she was actually watching the other. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. People were not slaves to their gods as they are now, oppressed and unhappy, chained to their mortality and suffering so that they may one day enter an imaginary Heaven.
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