Lovely. Oh the stories those walls could tell...
Aye, it's a thought EC. Hundreds of years of comings and goings to and from the grand high balcony and all the hopes and dreams and smiles and tears and triumphs and tragedies. And then me and my lady arrived, and the walls thought, what?
The walls clearly thought: Where is Rocinante, where the Golden Helmet of Perthino? And why are they not accompanied by Seanso Pansa and his donkey?
Ha. Obviously, Seanso.
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