The bard held still for a long moment, and then retrieved the envelope. “Dean of Itinerant Minstrels,” he read. “Why, I don’t have to say put! The cobblestones under my heels, the wind in my hair, the fair gaze of a gentle maiden... wait a minute!” Stopping for a moment, he rummaged for a writing stick. “Got to write that one down,” he muttered.
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Moderation is good so long as it is not exaggerated!
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