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... en a while, old Claymen."
Rebecca's voice echoed casually through the chamber as she strode across the gleaming stone floor and slid into one of the empty seats at the round obsidian table. Her thick red braids bounced slightly with each step, and the massive sword strapped to her back clinked lightly against the chair.
Claymen Maroone, seated with a calm, unmoving posture, responded only with a soft smile. His gaze was warm, his demeanor patient—as if her casual greeting was exp ...
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