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. Among many Houses
of Solamnia, armor, when still serviceable, was a treasure
to be handed down until the day when someone else might
be able to don it.
Of course, if such a suit did not fit, then a new one had
to be put together. Some knights preferred new armor.
Arryl considered it an honor to wear the armor of a noble
ancestor.
There was nothing he could do about his armor, save
hope that someone in the city guard did not take a fancy to
it.
Raag's leering visage loomed before him. The ogre's
rancid breath struck Arryl like one slap after another.
"Knight!" Raag grinned, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth.
"You come."
"Take these two as well," Arack called, jabbing a thumb
at the half-elf and the confused-looking boy, dressed in the
sort of loose, colorful clothing worn by peasants in the
villages far to the southwest of Istar. Arryl recalled hearing
that those places were very relaxed in their worship of the
gods. They were even said to worship the gods of
neutrality, despite the Kingpriest's efforts to alter their
thinking. Arryl wondered what sort of crime brought a
mere boy, who couldn't be more than fourteen, to the arena
and how the gawking boy was expected to take part in the
Games
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