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Armed with swords and crossbows, the militia left Gottford as soon as the sun crossed the zenith. Not far from the gate, Rumbold and Fergus trotted their horses to a trot, sending the guard Rick ahead of them. We drove for a long time under the cliffs among the spruce groves along which the city wall stretched. Then the steep climb began. The forest road rushed to the mountains. All this time, Rumbold answered his questions in monosyllabic phrases, but as soon as they rose above the valley, the junior sergeant began to talk.

- Great. The thieves' lair is left behind, - he commented, looking back at the city, spread out far below, and, looking at it, added as if by chance: - Except for one thief.

- Are you still angry? Fergus grumbled.

- From what? They just tried to kill me. Think it's a big deal. Rumbold adjusted the bandage on his forehead and chuckled. I'm not angry, but I won't forget it either. I know that for some time now I have become an open book for you, with the exception o
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