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... look comforted by my logic. She adjusted the collar of her stolen grey cloak, trying to hide the gleam of her silver armor, but she walked with a posture that screamed ’I am royalty and I am judging your sanitation.’
"This place," she whispered, stepping over a puddle of questionable liquid on Tanner Street. "It smells like death."
"It’s a butcher shop," Kaelen muttered from under his hood. "It’s supposed to smell like death. It means the meat is fresh. Or at least, present."
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