In the biting cold of a February morning, you're stirred awake on your weathered ship, greeted by a haze of mist rising from the ocean. As you survey the vessel, a young, determined deck-hand approaches, bearing a letter clutched tightly in their trembling hands. Your instincts kick in, sensing something amiss. You accept the letter, already anticipating what is within;
To ensure the lasting success of your bootlegging adventures, critical decisions demand swift action. Your seadog instincts resonate with unwavering certainty that this letter shall not be the final one to reach your shores...
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