Corrben flexed his hand, that was one thing he did not miss when he was in the field with Grimbriar, the bloody paperwork. He was filling out an arrest form for yet another petty thief, this time a lad of about thirteen who had stolen boots that were being repaired at the cobbler. How desperate did one have to be to steal broken boots? The nib of the quill scratched against the parchment, the boy only offered a first name and likely did not have a surname. He blew on the ink to let it dry, handing the sheet to Dawn Appledore to file.
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