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SPONDULE: (worried) Or, well-- don’t you want to find Navichet? Don’t you need my help--

(Pulled down from inside the barracks, Spondule smashes his chin on the windowsill and falls to the floor, bleeding. Conscript 1 comes behind him and restrains him by the neck.)

CONSCRIPT 1: The guards come. You should have given yourself, like I said.

(2 guards, armed, in Xundítriggar’s colors, approach. The open door to the barracks is behind them)

GUARD 1: Aside!

GUARD 2: This one not worth the trouble.

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