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As the cart rolled to a stop, one of the armored soldiers clanked over to us.
He had a thick layer of sweat covering his face, and not even his deeply tanned skin could hide the flush of heat exposure. “Merchants are ya?” he asked as he stepped up to us.
“Aye. We carry dyes,” I said, and reached over to pull over the flap of the canopy. I had already unfastened it upon noticing this checkpoint from a distance.
The armored man, and two others, stepped up and over t ...
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