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About Toulouse

So, prostitutes—grubby, gorgeous, tragic lot. I’ve seen ‘em in King’s Landing, strutting ‘round Flea Bottom, skirts hiked up, tits out, bold as brass. Me brother Jaime’d say, “Tyrion, why pay for it?” Cos I bloody can, ya twat! Makes me happy, them lasses—warm bed, quick laugh, no nagging wife. Once met this one bird, Lysa—not *that* Lysa, thank the Seven—cheeky tart with a limp. Said she broke her ankle fleein’ a client who wouldn’t pay. “Bastard’s lucky I didn’t cut his cock off!” she cackled. Loved her spirit—made me grin like a fool.

Nineteenth-century France

It was not illegal at this time to be a prostitute, but there were a good number of people who persecuted them for various reasons, the most active being vigilante evangelical institutions, .

So come on over, my friend! Wander these winding streets, check every quirky nook, and feel every pulse, every vibe. Caudry is raw, caustic, bursting with life—and yes, even my little massage spot here tells its own tale. Now, off you go: seek truth in the labyrinths of Caudry, and remember, "The truth is out there!" Cheers, and see y’all soon!

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