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«My son. Here is a letter to the director of the Castor Otel Academy, give it to him personally. He owes me. So he’ll keep an eye on you. You’re my family. You’re my son. We are of an ancient and proud line of Knuts, renowned slavers. Every tenth slave in the country is sold by us. King Philip III personally thanked me for my service. Although I’ve been selling his elven clansmen all my life. Strange people. Stay away from them. Accept my blessing, my son, and you may go. The coachman is waiting for you at the entrance. It’s going to be a long trip. Two days after all. He turned to the butler. «Pavel, get some food off the table for his journey. I don’t want to spend money on roadside taverns. Moreover, it is dirty there. And tell that coachman gnome Gennady. Let him drink less dark kvass on the way. If I find out he’s drunk, I’ll whip him like last time.
– It will be executed. Pavel said, bowing slightly. And he began to collect food from the table in a paper bag. I tried to collect pieces that weren’t bitten off. And thank you for that. After collecting a lot of food, he left.