[(Is this the last gift of alcohol he accepts without second thought? Probably.)
He raises his barely touched mug in thanks, something pleasant living at the margins of his expression. Maybe this is what the North breeds, whether it means to or not. If you want to march against a city, or a people, or a continent, or an unstoppable force, two ages of war bearing ever diminishing returns advise that it doesn't do much good to trip the man in line beside you.]
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He raises his barely touched mug in thanks, something pleasant living at the margins of his expression. Maybe this is what the North breeds, whether it means to or not. If you want to march against a city, or a people, or a continent, or an unstoppable force, two ages of war bearing ever diminishing returns advise that it doesn't do much good to trip the man in line beside you.]
I swear to moderate myself.
[That's a joke.]