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Now, as it is, has been brought by continuous sequential affairs of living stories and the history of England. On the rise of the 14th Century, the sovereign was aided by counts and countesses across the borders and cities.
There were agreements, there were controversies. There were orders, there were confusions. There were rulers, there were slaves. Slaughter of all the year has brought which hath a river been created out of their veins.
When the road straightened its direction towards the uncommon slender of a lad, all swords were put in the armory. All the scales lost their shine for years of tyranny. Unbeknownst to everyone in the streets, the real question did end with a dot. It was then that the tapestry of the royal was changed to another color and silk.
So, the boy walked with clanging glamour that brought him pride. He injected into him oaths that the generations of all ancestry and formalities have established, with which he chose the symbols of the oral. The authority, that has never been evaded because of a chance of power that alone was bestowed upon the beholder was now crushed by the cross shield. He's entitled to be.
The people were present at the sight they long wished but wished that it has been long to be present. As the time arrived, came the new. But it was vain to the earls for they taught him goals he forever stored in a vault that the keys he left to the unknown gate.
The bells rang as the council panteth for the water. They were chided and chastened with anger. For mercy, their groans were never heard nor were they seen of languish or stir of their bitter anguish, so troubled were their bones.
He ushered wools to the lowly but thorns to the earls. His words became a comfort, his words became daggers.
The salvation cane for those on the edges has its grasp but doom presents itself to those that are afraid of the dark.
