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[A letter sent to Senior Magus Vrask]

Greetings, my good wizard. I have a fifteen year-old son, and I can not find him work. I would be delighted if you might apprentice him, though I cannot possibly afford 400 coin. I have enclosed another method of payment, which I graciously hope you will accept in lieu of the coin.

Sincerely, Nance.

Enclosed with the letter is a heaping pound of steaming rothe shit.

[Upon gathering the letter, smelling and noticing the bulging contents, he tosses it aside in an adjacent brazier, unopened]