The Bottle Market of Maillon
“You drink it.” “I… I’m… not really… no! YOU drink it!” stammered Benoit, holding the glass vial bubbling with green muck at arm’s length over the damp cobblestone, a look of disgust on his weathered face. “Listen—you’re wounded, and we’re low on coin. This is all we can afford.” That was Reynaldo again, snorting as […]
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