Macbeth's Reputation

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The wind was as sharp as glass cutting through my fur cloak and breaches. My muscles would stiffen with ever fresh gust that sliced down my neck. I had lived my whole life in Scotland yet this Autumn eve was the most numbing I could remember for a long time. I had never been to Macbeth's castle before yet it’s reputation preceded it. “A castle fit for a King!” Was what a young squire who grew up under the shelter of its walls had told me. I myself had never been a great believer in sprawling intimidating castles. After all Scotland was at peace under my rule. Apart from tat one little spat with the Thane of Cawdor i prode myself on the fact that my subjects feel safe under ym rule. On this night I'm sure it will do I thought to myself anything
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