“The world beyond these walls is made of dukes and farmers. Duke…” he singled out Lord Oughtibridge from afar, and nimbly danced over the tabletop of plates and glasses to pour gold into the man’s hands. He then turned back at Gisbourne, halfway down the table. “… and farmer,” he finished, flicking one last coin through the air to his captain, who barely flinched to catch it. “The farmer farms, which is useful, and the duke … dukes. Which is not.” De Lacy’s hand flapped about, equating precisely what he thought of the daily activities of dukes. “However, the duke pays taxes, which is quite
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