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Summary
“You’re back”, her voice curls with a faint Elseweyr accent long abandoned. Veil isn’t one for long monologues but has been part of Skyrim’s politics long enough that she’s learned the benefits of small talk.
“Met a couple bandits on the road who insisted I had more gold on me than I did,” Teldryn shrugs and sits down on a stool, stretching his shoulders and wincing. “Would’ve been fine if I hadn’t forgotten a potion.”