Enchanted bullets
The firearms merchant from the Eastern Province of Wazanjho had rented a small store on the southwestern side of town, in a secluded part of the mercantile area.

As Ezra and his companion approached the store, a gruff-looking guard stopped them. “The store’s not open yet. Come back next week.”

“We were sent by Mr. Yarpin Dale,” the assistant replied. “I believe Mr. Lee would not mind entertaining a guest for a while.”

The firearms merchant, a scrawny-looking man sporting a long gray beard and pencil mustache peeped out of the store’s window and asked, “What does your guest want with me?”

“He wishes to browse your wares, of course,” the attendant replied. Stepping aside, he introduced, “This is Lord Ezra, the youngest son of Lord Sebastian Romanov. I am sure he will be able to compensate you adequately for your troubles, Mr. Lee.”

The merchant stared at Ezra, scanning him from head to toe before turning to his companion. “And what do you want?”

“Nothing. I was just sent here to in
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