You encounter a ragged individual carrying a writing case and a satchel overflowing with parchnt and slate. You have no idea who this mysterious hooded figure is. Their voice, distorted by distress, pleads for your help:
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“Please, buy my novel parchnts. Support the cause of scribes and writers mired in poverty, so that we can produce many new stories for your entertainnt. Even 10 coins will help us...”
Okay... Um... Go back to the morized number?
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