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Atramor held up the Mythril Shard to the light, turning it around in his hand. He nodded absentmindedly to Frumptious - the Bonapartes would hardly be pleased at all, he'd joined the Crescent Union not long ago. But a job was a job, and it was satisfying to finally get paid for this one. The drafter pulled a few seeds out of his pocket, letting Twitzle peck them up one by one as he made his way back to Eubric.

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