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- To Folk Far and Wide,
- I've told you all plenty of times but never put it in writing, as I'm doing now, so that none may hide behind a defense of ignorance. My boy Pomir's sword to the great mother Melitele that he'll never touch beer nor spirit again for as long as he lives. And it's a good thing he has, for when he lost our goat, hens, butter churn and the very breeches he was wearing in a game of cards two weeks back, I was mighty tempted to toss him out on his bare arse, or at least give it a thorough hiding. So if anyone spies Pomir walking towards a tavern, come see me at once, and you'll get a Novigrad crown for your trouble. Likewise, if I see any man encouraging him to drink, offering him a pint or a snifter of anything, then that scoundrel will learn that a hoe [is] fit for more than just ploughing.