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For the first time since his arrival to Zinn’Sunn, the elf lord returned the woman’s bow. Aside power, there was nothing more the assassin respected than efficiency. The rigmarole of politics was generally too burdensome to deal with, and thus he normally circumvented it entirely by isolating himself from it. But the people of Zinn’Sunn, however, were different than those of the outside world. They were friendly and overly trusting. Fools?
The assassin had yet to decide.
Nodding appreciatively, his flowing robes graced the floor behind him as he trailed off to the northern courtyard where the one called Kimsan awaited. He occasionally glanced to the apprentices scurrying about, mildly amused by their choice of playthings –tonfas. A handful of House Mynendil’s assassins preferred these over sharp, pointed weapons, and thus the elfin lord did not condescend their blade-less edges. Any instrument in the correct hands could be dangerous.
Without a single word or pause, the Lord of the Syl’rosyan Combine disappeared into the Sunn Monastery.
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