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CONSCRIPT 1: (Still pulling at Spondule, attempting to get him away from the window, and kicking away Old Lady) GUARDS!

SPONDULE: The leader of these raiders--

CONSCRIPT 1: He is talking to a heathen!

SPONDULE: The leader of this band-- he’s got like many of those old books. Why not take ’em all, yeah?

NOC: That isn’t my contract.

SPONDULE: (mad, impatient) O you gotta chill out about your contract!