Spent the whole day swingin' a pick at the Minoc mines, but the iron veins were thin as a beggar's porridge. Still, hauled a decent load back to the forge and managed to hammer out a few serviceable short swords—sold 'em to a guardsman headed to Yew, which is why I'm finally affordin' this ale. My back's complainin' somethin' fierce, but a full purse quiets the aches.
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