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Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Three: 'O, ingenuous children...'
This wasn't right. Not at all.
Parson Miles, at this point in his long life, liked to think he had acquired some semblance of control, of order. Laying plans. Nudging the world toward peace through controlled and necessary conflict. Trying to avoid needless bloodshed. And reacting appropriately when things went awry, which they often did.
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