The Children's Crusade · The Pied Piper · Bishop Hatto · bottom of page


To Unknown Lands

. . . his piping took a troubled sound

Of storms that rage outside our happy ground.

-- Matthew Arnold, Thyrsis

June 10, 2015: Hello, there! My name is Chester Monday. I thought I might document the creation of a fantasy world/milieu/series from the ground up, from the first fleeting childhood ideas to the mapping of lands and events to the writing of novels.

I'm documenting the development of such a series created by an old pal of mine, a famous science fiction and fantasy writer (except for the famous part) who would like to remain anonymous for now (maybe that's why we except the famous part?). I'm just the guy to do it, because I love folklore and legend and history and dusty old books, and I can follow his path through fact and fable as if it were my own.

We're fudging a little, because, as we explain elsewhere, the idea for the Project hit in 2006, and Dramas in Real Life kept pushing the Project onto the proverbial back burner. Our dates might confuse people -- for a time, at least -- because we're rebooting on June 10, 2015, and we intend to update and edit our old files every week or so. Our old Project has 2009 dates, themselves originally 2006. It will all even out in a few months. We like to keep that initial date of June 10, however, because that actually was the day (several years ago) when the idea struck us. So here we go again!

When he was a schoolboy many years ago, my pal (let's call him "M" like in James Bond) was not that interested in fairy tales and the like. He was more of a plastic dinosaur and G.I. Joe type. One year, however, via good old Scholastic Book Services, he bought an illustrated copy of Robert Browning's "The Pied Piper of Hamlin." Something about the mysterious Piper, and those rats that fought the dogs and killed the cats, and the happy children who danced off into an "opening" in a mountain, never to be seen again, struck home.

Over the years a blessed few details kept his interest in this magical figure alive. Nancy Garden's YA book Werewolves described a Piper-like character in French folklore, le Meneu' des Loups, who commanded wolves. A page in a Ripley's Believe it or Not paperback showed thousands of children marching along holding crosses, an event described as the Children's Crusade. Finally, the huge People's Almanac and its sequels carried in their many pages short articles on the Piper, the Crusade, and a third intriguing event -- the Black Death.

Leader of the Wolves

When "M" started college, he found more old books than he could handle: two million volumes in the university library, plus magazines, journals, newspapers on microfilm, you name it. "Put my 50 paperbacks at home to shame," as he says. Almost immediately, as if directed by some outside force, "M" found books on the above subjects and dove into them, "instead of studying worthwhile subjects like Accounting."

"There is an aspect of writing called 'I suffered for my work, and now it's your turn,'" says "M". "After a writer has dug through scores of references in order to write a story, there's a great urge to display all that learning, even if it isn't important to the plot. If you do stick it in, the action grinds to a halt.

"Then there are the elaborate histories and backgrounds to novels and book series. The more successful authors can add such things as appendices to their works: Think of the ancillary information provided for Middle-Earth or Dune.

"I finally decided to let the stories stand by themselves. The extras I'll display on this web-site. If people are interested enough to look into the background of the Project, here it is. If not, no one's sticking a gun to their heads.

"However, as long as I have these web-pages to play around with -- I might as well go all the way and show everyone where everything came from."

Chester again, and that's where we came in. Well, we'll let things ruminate for a week, then we'll look at those university-library inspirations. We'll start with a fairly short one concerning a fairly limited subject: George Zabriskie Gray's 1870 book The Children's Crusade, and see what that sparked:


The Children's Crusade as envisioned by Gustav Dore

Cloyes, France, a small village where dwelt a shepherd's son named Stephen (Etienne in the original French). After watching a mournful procession called "Litania Major" on April 25, 1212, the boy returned to his flock and encountered a mysterious stranger, who claimed to be a pilgrim returning from Palestine. The boy listened in awe to tales of the wonders of the east. "Having thus gained an influence over the boy," writes Gray, "he announced himself to be Jesus Christ, and proceeded to commission Stephen [Etienne] to preach a crusade to the children." The stranger gave the boy a letter addressed to the king of France, demanding aid for this strange new crusade, then he disappeared as mysteriously as he arrived. That Etienne met someone seems likely, because he carried the letter as proof, and in those days no one in Cloyes could have written it.

St. Denys, France, five miles north of Paris -- Etienne marched north, preaching along the way. He reached St. Denys sometime in May, 1212, and spoke so eloquently of his Crusade that adults as well as children joined him. "It is said that he healed the sick, and made other supernatural signs bear witness to his authority."

In that era pilgrims from all over Europe visited St. Denys to worship at the Tomb of St. Dionysus. When they left, they spread the news of Etienne across the land. Various "minor prophets" hiked about, calling for the rich and poor, the young and old, to join the Crusade. The King, Philip II Augustus, ordered the Crusade disbanded, but his commands were ignored. The words of the clergy had no effect, and even if parents locked up their children, the youths pined and faded until released to join the throng.

Champagne, France -- Belief in Etienne's Crusade was bolstered by numerous "miracles". The Chronicle of St. Medard states:

[F]ishes, frogs, butterflies, and birds proceeded likewise according to their kinds and seasons; and at that time so great a multitude of fishes was caught that all men greatly wondered. And certain old and decayed men affirm, as a certain thing, that, from different parts of France, an innumerable multitude of dogs were gathered together, at the town of Champagne which is called Manshymer.

A village near Cologne (Koln)/Cologne itself, June 1212: The story of Etienne's Crusade spread along the Rhine. A boy known only as Nicholas became convinced that he, too, was to head an army of children to the Holy Land. He traveled to Cologne, Germany, to preach. Numerous "minor prophets" spread Nicholas' message as they had Etienne's, and soon thousands of children (and not a few adults) flocked to his side.

South along the Rhine from Cologne to Geneva, Switzerland, June or July, 1212: This was the route taken by the boy Nicholas and 20,000 children. The innocent pilgrims were exposed to thieves, prostitutes, and other criminals, but a smattering of sympathetic adults accompanied them. Local dukes and brigands kidnapped scores of children to sell into slavery, but new youngsters joined the crusade from the villages and towns it passed.

Geneva to Mont Cenis in the Alps: To reach Italy Nicholas' army chose the pass near Mont Cenis. The children were plagued by hunger, disease, and local pagan inhabitants; they drowned in rivers and froze on mountain slopes; they fell from cliffs and fended off wild animals. Yet several thousand reached the monastery at the summit of Mont Cenis, where, for a time, they found succor.

Genoa, Italy, August 25, 1212: Perhaps 7,000 children under Nicholas reached this rich city-state and petitioned to stay one night within her walls. The city elders agreed reluctantly, because Otto IV was an enemy of the Pope, and harboring German children might have made them look bad in the Church's eyes.

The children expected the Mediterranean to part like the Red Sea for them in the morning. It did not, and a large percentage gave up in despair and remained in Genoa (oddly, many grew up to be prosperous in the alien community). The boy Nicholas was mentioned no more.

Pisa, September 1212: The remaining children headed east. Pisa, a rival of Genoa, welcomed them (mainly because Genoa rejected them). Two shiploads of these children sailed from Pisa for the Holy Land. "To our regret, we know not if they reached that destination."

Swabia, June or July, 1212: A second army of children and hangers-on, also numbering about 20,000, left Cologne under a boy whose name is now forgotten. The crusaders headed east, across Swabia, before entering Switzerland. The second German army crossed the Alps at St. Gotthard, near Lake Lucerne. They, too, suffered deprivation and fell victim to avalanches and torrents. They entered the Lombardy district of Italy and skirted the Adriatic on their way south. If anything they were treated worse than Nicholas' army, for eastern Italy suffered from a drought so terrible, it was said some people ate their own children.

Brindisi, Apulia, September 1212: At the southern tip of Italy, the surviving children were brutalized, enslaved, or outright murdered. Perhaps two or three thousand remained. The bishop of Brindisi befriended the visitors. Some he convinced to head home, and for the rest he provided passage. Several ships full of children embarked from Brindisi. "And they sailed away into oblivion and silence."

Vendome, July, 1212: Etienne of Cloyes indicated this city near his village as the place for his army to gather. Far more children from a far larger area converged here, so the French crusade did not start off until the end of July. Etienne, resplendent in a chariot and surrounded by knights' and nobles' sons, headed south with nearly 30,000 crusaders -- mostly boys of twelve or less, but with hundreds of girls and adults as well.

Marseilles, mid-August, 1212: The lands through which the French children passed were friendlier in climate, and the people friendlier in nature, at least to crusaders of their own country. There were fewer casualties and desertions on the road south, and indeed more children joined Etienne on the way. In their multitudes they reached the port city of Marseilles.

Like the German armies, the children expected the sea to part before them at dawn. Keeps, hostels, and houses were opened to them. The next day, however, the waves of the Mediterranean rolled up as usual -- as they did the day after, and the day after that. Thousands of disappointed children left the campaign.

A pair of merchants, remembered by their Latinized names of Hugo Ferreus and William Porcus, provided ships for the young crusaders. Etienne and the remainder of his army took the offer as a miracle. Around September 1, 1212, seven merchant ships containing collectively about 5,000 children sailed from Marseilles.

Marseilles, 1230: No trader or pilgrim returned from the East with any news of the young Crusaders. In the year 1230, however, a mysterious stranger appeared in Marseilles, claiming to be a priest who had embarked with the French children. According to him, the French vessels ran into a terrible storm as they passed Sardinia, and two ships were smashed to pieces. The remaining five vessels, carrying 3,500 or so crusaders, were captured by Moslems and the children carried into slavery. All the children and all the priests who accompanied them died in bondage -- except for the Marseilles priest, who was released for reasons unknown.

San Pietro, off the coast of Sardinia, September 1212: The "priest" who appeared in Marseilles said that the seven crusade ships were caught in a storm two days after setting sail. Two of the vessels were smashed against the rocks of San Pietro, and all aboard perished. This part of his story may be true, as an investigative group sent by Pope Gregory IX visited the island and found many graves here containing the remains of children. The remaining five vessels, containing 3,500 or so young crusaders, sailed through the storm and off the map.

Erfurt to Armstadt Germany, July 15, 1237: Marten Crusius, in his Annales Suevici, writes of a Crusade-like "migration" of children in Erfurt, Germany, as quoted in J. F. Hecker's "Child-Pilgrimages": "On the fifteenth of July, 1237, there assembled, unknown to their parents, more than a thousand children, who left by the Lober gate, and wandered, dancing and leaping, by the Steigerwald, to Armstadt. A congress, such as this, as if by agreement, resembles an instinctive impulse, as in animals, when, for instance, storks and swallows assemble for their migration."

The next day the parents of the children tracked them down and hauled them home in carts. Hecker continues: "No one could say who had enticed them away [implying someone did?]. Many of them are said to have continued ill some time after, and, in particular, to have suffered from trembling of the limbs; perhaps also from convulsions."

June 17, 2015: My first interview with "M":

M: Well, Chester, what do you think of the Children's Crusade?

Chester: Tragic, yet heartening in a medieval sort of way. It's weird that so many children could have made it as far as they did, then just vanish. I guess it would remind you of the Pied Piper, on an even grander scale, the way they all followed the commands of a few peasant boys.

M: I thought Etienne would make an interesting character to follow when we see where they vanished to. I'd suggest he was a bit like the legendary Piper, having almost superhuman charisma. And what would he do when it dawned on him that he was not the chosen of God, but a dupe? He started out a dirt-poor shepherd's boy. Once he became leader of a peace movement, though, Etienne let fame go to his head: "He therefore rode in a chariot, as splendid as could be procured," as Gray wrote.

C: That would be good, but . . . if you're wanting a Pied Piper . . .

M: You're thinking of the Mysterious Stranger who inspired Etienne to start the Crusade, aren't you? And the other Mysterious Stranger who appeared eighteen years later to explain away the fate of the children.

C: Yeah! The first guy sounded mighty Piper-like. He led Etienne, and Etienne led the others.

M: I decided both strangers were the same person, initiating and then covering up a very unusual event. Even today most Western histories take the word of the 1230 priest. Wolff and Hazard's History of the Crusades points out that his story is full of "absurdities", and that even among the credulous old chroniclers only one, Aubrey of Trois-Fontaines, mentions the priest. There's no word at all about the fate of the German children. There are even revisionist histories claiming that there were no children on the Chilren's Crusade -- there were peasants, who were looked on as "innocents" like children, but fully adult.

C: There was one other Piper-like thing in the Crusade story -- the miracles that "proved" Etienne was the chosen of God.

M: Ah, you noticed that? Fish caught in amazing numbers, dogs arriving from all over France -- even Browning's poem mentions the Piper controlling creatures besides rats. So these were just the sort of miracles he could have provided.

C: Well, was The Children's Crusade the first big influence on the Fantasy World Project?

M: I don't remember if it was the first. But we can go on to a second major influence, another 19th century volume written by another clergyman, Sabine Baring-Gould's Curious Myths of the Middle Ages. Rather than reading it straight through, though, we'll jump right to the chapter called "The Piper of Hameln."


The Pied Piper as envisioned by Paul Thumann

Hameln (Hamlin) Germany, June 24, 1284: In this year Hameln was plagued by rats, as all who have read Browning's poem know. A mysterious stranger in a "parti-coloured" jacket agreed to rid the town of vermin for a sum of money, whereupon the stranger drew forth a pipe and played. The rats followed him to the River Weser and drowned.

The townspeople refused to pay "on the plea that the rat-destroyer was a sorcerer." The piper swore vengeance. On June 26 he reappeared, and the children of the town spilled out of houses and streets to dance and caper in his wake. The Piper led them to a mountain called the Koppenberg, where:

"A wondrous portal open'd wide,
As if a cavern were suddenly hollow'd;
And the piper advanced, and the children followed;
And when all were in, to the very last,
The door in the mountain side shut fast."

Only one lame boy, unable to keep up with the crowd, remained, and he spoke of the promises he heard from the Piper, of "a joyous land,/ Joining the town, and just at hand."

Donald Ward, translator of The German Legends of the Brothers Grimm, points out that "the legend evidently has a kernel of truth. The documented evidence points to an event that happened on June 26 in 1284 -- the date almost never varies in any of the chronicles and manuscripts."

Brandenburg, Germany: A stranger, with a fiddle this time, passed through the town playing a magical tune. As before, all the children of the town followed him. He led them to the Marienberg, which opened to allow them all in.

Lorch (Wurms) Germany: This town was plagued by pipers. Once the fields were devastated by ants. A "hermit" promised to get rid of them if the farmers would pay him 100 gulden. The farmers agreed, and the hermit pulled forth a pipe. He led the ants into the Lake of Lorch. The farmers refused to pay, so the piper played again and vanished into the lake with all their pigs. Next year, crickets devoured the greenery. A "charcoal burner" promised to eradicate them for 500 gulden . . . so out came the pipes, and the charcoal man drew the insects into the lake. The citizens of Lorch refused to pay, so the piper marched away with all the local sheep. Third year: Rats. An "old man of the mountain" offered to get rid of them for 1,000 gulden. After the rats go -- well, the Lorchians never learned. All the town's children were lured to the Tannenberg, never to be seen again.

Hartz Mountains: This time the piper played a bagpipe. Each time he played a tune, a maiden died and he made off with her soul. He vanished after "Taking" fifty girls.

Newtown, or Franchville (Isle of Wight): The setting for a more-or-less replay of the Hameln sequence. See More English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs.

Abyssinia (North Africa): "It is singular that a similar story should exist in Abyssinia. It is related by Harrison, in his 'Highlands of Aethiopia,' that the Hadjiuji Madjuji are daemon pipers, who, riding on a goat, traverse a hamlet, and, by their music, irresistibly draw the children after them to destruction." [Baring-Gould]

June 24, 2015 Interview:

Chester: Well, first I'll have to say the Pied Piper stories sound a little more folk-lore-ish, if you know what I mean. Some of them are too much like the Hamlin tale.

M: Yes, but the original appears to be based on a real event. There are other items I could have listed but didn't. For instance, Baring-Gould adds a creepy note that people he knew (in the 1860s) heard piper-ish music when someone was about to die: "A Wesleyan told me one day that he was sure his little servant-girl was going to die; for the night before, as he had lain awake, he had heard an angel piping to her in the adjoining room; the music was inexpressibly sweet, like the warbling of a flute."

C: That is a little creepy -- as if something out of ancient myth were happening still, in odd little out-of-the-way places, without anybody knowing it!

M: We're also trying to stay to one book at a time, so I didn't mention, say, the "Demon Piper" of Ireland, who summoned children away and who, like the "Hadjiuji Madjuji", rode a black goat.

C: Yeah, you had something from the Brothers Grimm and a few other sources.

M: Deutsche Sagen, another major influence. I'm trying to lead the reader -- and you -- along the paths that led to my body of work in the same way I "discovered" it. There are overlaps, though, as with the Grimm book, which expands greatly on the Piper and other legends. Some information will "leak" in from the future if it seems important.

C: I guess I shouldn't complain about a story sounding like folklore. Most of the upcoming books are folklore and mythology, and they're all grist for the fantasy mill, anyway.

M: I like dovetailing the real and the unreal together. Once it became common knowledge that Vlad the Impaler was the "real" Dracula, for instance, quite a few authors included Vlad in flashbacks and origin stories for Drac. The Children's Crusade, a historical fact, slides nicely toward the magical lore of the Piper.

C: Curious Myths, I have to say, is great! There's stuff on every page that could be in a fantasy epic. And we've only explored one chapter! Next week's bit concentrates on another chapter, doesn't it?

M: Yes, the chapter following on the heels of the Piper: "Bishop Hatto", a person (and legend) I never heard of before I entered college and found Baring-Gould's book. Still, it is a pertinent subject, as you will see.


Bishop Hatto in the Mouse Tower

Lake Goplo and Kruszwica Castle, Poland, 9th Century: King Popiel II was the cruelest of Polish kings. He and his queen staged numerous orgies at their castle, and to pay for them they "ordered that all the skins from the forests, all the fish from the rivers, all the beasts from the farms, and all the honey from the hives be brought to them."

The people, understandably, revolted. The rebel forces were led by Popiel's own uncles. After a long siege, Popiel sued for peace, agreed to all terms, and indeed invited his uncles and their knights into the castle for a feast. Whereupon he and his queen poisoned them all. "I promised you eternal peace; now you have eternal peace!" shouted the king.

Suddenly thousands of mice crawled out of Lake Goplo (some accounts say they burrowed their way out of the poisoned corpses). They chased the royal couple into the highest tower, gnawing their way through the thickest doors. They devoured the king and queen alive and then scampered back to the lake. (Old Polish Legends by F. C. Anstruther [ca. 1944]).

Bingen, Germany, 913: Hatto the Second, Archbishop of Mainz, was at the beginning of the tenth century a very powerful churchman. In the words of Professor Charles Morris:

He placed Louis, surnamed the Child, -- for he was but seven years of age, -- on the imperial throne, and governed Germany in his name. Louis died in 911, while still a boy, and with him ended the race of Charlemagne in Germany. Conrad, Duke of Franconia, was chosen king to succeed him, but the astute churchman still remained the power behind the throne. [Historical Tales: The Romance of Reality, V. 5 (1893)]

In 913 Germany suffered from famine because of an extremely wet summer and fall. The granaries of Bishop Hatto, however, were full from previous years. The hungry peasants flocked to him for help. The bishop said,

"Let all the poor and needy gather in a barn outside the city [of Kaub]. I shall feed them." After they had entered the barn, he locked the doors, set fire to it, and burned the barn along with the poor people, young and old, men and women. [Deutsche Sagen]

Hatto ate a satisfying supper and slept like a baby. The next morning, however, a farm worker arrived to tell him that rats had eaten all the grain in his granaries. Then a terrified servant appeared to tell him that a "legion of rats" was approaching. "The Bishop looked from the window, and saw the road and fields dark with the moving multitude; neither hedge nor wall impeded their progress, as they made straight for his mansion." [Baring-Gould]

Hatto fled to a tower on an isle in the Rhine, built to collect tolls from passing ships. The rats and mice, however, swam out to the tower, and, in the words of Richard Southey:

And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls by thousands they pour,
And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below,
And all at once to the Bishop they go.

They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
And now they pick the Bishop's bones;
They gnaw'd the flesh from every limb,
For they were sent to do judgment on him.

The Mausenthurm, just outside Bingen, eventually became one of Germany's famous landmarks.

Strasburg, France, July 17, 997: The historian Wolfius, who collected several accounts of Bishop Hatto in his Memorab. Centenarii (1600), and also Konigshofen (1360-1420), a priest of Strasburg, tell of the terrible fate of Widerolf, Bishop of Strasburg, "who, in the seventeenth year of his episcopate, on July 17th, in punishment for having suppressed the convent of Seltzen on the Rhine, was attacked and devoured by mice or rats."

Rome, circa 10th Century: Thietmar of Merseburg (976-1018) writes of a knight who stole the relics of St. Clement from their resting place in Rome. Soon thereafter he was attacked by hundreds of mice as he lay in bed. "At first he defended himself with a club, then with his sword, and, as he found himself unable to cope with the multitude, he ordered his servants to put him in a box, and suspend this by a rope from the ceiling." The animals reached him anyway, and nothing but bones were found in his protective box.

Northern Germany, 1083 -- William of Malmesbury writes: "I have heard a person of the utmost veracity relate, that one of the adversaries of Henry IV. (of Germany), a weak and factious man, while reclining at a banquet, was on a sudden so completely surrounded by mice as to be unable to escape . . . It was in vain that they were attacked with clubs and fragments of the benches which were at hand; and though they were for a long time assailed by all, yet they wreaked their deputed curse on no one else." The unfortunate man fled to a ship, but the mice simply swam out to the vessel and gnawed on the planks until water entered. The crewmen were forced to bring the ship to shore. "Thus the wretch, set on shore, and soon after entirely gnawed in pieces, satiated the dreadful hunger of the mice."

Another chronicler, Albertus Trium-Fontium, dates the above occurrence as 1083.

Odense, Denmark, 1087 -- "King Knut the Saint was murdered by the Earl Asbjorn, in the church of S. Alban, in Odense, during an insurrection of the Jutes, in 1086. Next year the country suffered severely from famine, and this was attributed to Divine vengeance for the murder of the king. Asbjorn was fallen upon by rats, and eaten up." [Baring-Gould]

Cologne, Germany, 1112 -- Bishop Adolf of Cologne, like Widerolf before him, was attacked and eaten alive by rats in the streets of his city, according to San-Marte's Germania.

Thurgau, Switzerland, date unknown: Freiherr von Guttingen, who possessed three castles in Thurgau, summoned the poor people of his lands into a huge barn, which he then set on fire like Hatto before him. Soon enough an army of mice chased him from his castle in Guttingen to Lake Constance, where they caught and devoured him.

Holzolster, Austria, date unknown: A similar story is told of a nobleman of Holzolster, who starved people to death in his dungeons.

Worthsee, Bavaria, date unknown: The Worthsee is also known as the Mouse-Lake. A Count of Seefeld "was devoured by these animals in his tower in the lake, to which he fled from them, although he suspended his bed by iron chains from the roof."

July 1, 2015 interview:

M: Well, Chester, what did you think of Bishop Hatto and the rest?

Chester: They all shared a similar theme: a nasty villain does something extremely naughty, and an army of rodents pursues and eats him in a grotesque bout of divine intervention. Some of the stories, I'm sure, are just copies of earlier ones.

M: I was surprised at how many of the accounts had specific dates. Urban legends -- especially medieval ones -- are usually timeless. Speaking of time, did you notice anything about the dates?

C: The stories given dates all occurred before either the Children's Crusade or the Piper-like stories.

M: Yes, that got me thinking: It's like an evolution of purpose when you view these legends in chronological order. Our hypothetical Piper, able to summon and deploy rats, starts off with a bizarre sense of justice, avenging these murdered peasants, knights, and whomever, from about the 9th to the 12th centuries. Then he seems to tire of fighting evil in his own way. In my fantasy take, he decides to remove innocents from this corrupt world to another.

C: Starting in the 13th century with the Children's Crusade?

M: Yes. That crusade struck me as more the product of trickery, with help from Etienne of Cloyes' supernormal charisma. After that, though, came the 1237 event in Erfurt, where hundreds of children danced off, this time not knowing why, or where they were going. That looked almost like practice -- an early attempt at controlling children.

C: And after that came the Pied Piper tales!

M: As if he had finally perfected his control, and now charmed children away to a "better place." Our Piper saw a world of violence and hate and poverty and greed, the innocent children its only saving grace. And once he removed as many of those as he could -- well. Perhaps it was time to clear the board.

C: Erm, what do you mean, "clear the board?"

M: What, indeed, Chester?

On to Part Two, The Black Death

Part Three, Geography

Part Four, The Aristeas Factor

Part Five, Aristeas and Herodotus

Part Six, The Otherworld

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