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Fine leather.
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You're no wildling.
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Important. Highborn.
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Who are you?
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You see, where I come from,
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a commoner like me slaps a little lord like you,
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I'd lose my right hand.
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But we're a long way from home, aren't we?
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And the two of you,
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fancy-looking folks north of the Wall
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creeping through the woods.
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Isn't that a bit odd?