"I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don’t quite understand."
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"That's the claim. The Arl and the Prince, both killed at West Hill.' she glanced at Maric, crooking one corner of her mouth in grim amusement. 'Apparently your body was not distinguishable from those of regular Fereldan men and thus couldn't be found, according to the usurper.'Well that's just rude."
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