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embarrassing disease he'd died of.
They had just eaten a not-very-good meal which had, however, included some ancient and worthwhile wines. They'd attended because they'd all known Edward's father, and the d'Eaths were a fine old family, if now in very reduced circumstances.
'So you see,' would be somewhat watered down by now, don't you think?'
'The royal b-lood cannot be wa-tered down!'
Ah, thought Lord Rust. So he's that kind. Young Edward thinks the touch of a king can cure scrofula, as if royalty was the equivalent of a sulphur ointment. Young Edward thinks that there is no lake of blood too big to wade through to put a rightful king on a throne, no deed too base in defence of a crown. A romantic, in fact.said Edward proudly, 'the evidence is overwhelming. We have a king!'His audience tried to avoid looking at one another's faces.'I thought you'd be pl-eased,' said Edward.Finally, Lord Rust voiced the unspoken consensus. There was no room in those true-blue eyes for pity, which was not a survival trait, but sometimes it was possible to risk a little kindness.'Edward,' he said, 'the last king of Ankh-Morpork died centuries ago.''Executed by t-raitors!''Even if a descendant could still be found, the royal blood