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Hold comfort in the knowledge.
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The magistrate himself pays respect?
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It's a great honor.
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For my father.
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Years I wished for blistering tongue to cool.
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Only to long for it to scorch ear once more.
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I know you did not wish him gone in such a manner.
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Nor did I, despite our many differences.
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Yet the gods have willed it.
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The gods had no fucking hand in this.
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Tullius' alone inflicts injury.
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And how shall it be answered?