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Chapter 18. Who to Blame (5)
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... guards had entered earlier. The bald man surveyed the four guards following behind him, one of whom pulled a cart.
A cart?
An odd sense of unease crept over me. I slowly raised the crossbow, aiming at the bald man's face.
The previous guards had worn relaxed expressions, their faces reflecting desire for each day to pass quietly. These new men wore the same uniforms, but their expressions were different. They had eyes like those of hyenas gnawing at a corpse's flesh.
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