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    By midday Daenerys was feeling the weight of the crown upon her head, and the hardness of
    the bench beneath her. With so many still waiting on her pleasure, she did not stop to eat. Instead she
    dispatched Jhiqui to the kitchens for a platter of flatbread, olives, figs, and cheese. She nibbled whilst
    she listened, and sipped from a cup of watered wine. The figs were fine, the olives even finer, but the
    wine left a tart metallic aftertaste in her mouth. The small pale yellow grapes native to these regions
    produced a notably inferior vintage. We shall have no trade in wine. Besides, the Great Masters had
    burned the best arbors along with the olive trees.
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