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Cinnabar, the beginning

By now, the fire was crackling, and a meagre grill was losing its grease as it smoked. A makeshift camp had been set up. The mounts were happily grazing, judging by their barks and grunts.

Cinabre had sat aside and was chatting with a Matisse dressed in mauve and black. Her blond hair was neatly combed and cut short. A dark amber symbol, depicting a tortured tree, was pinned to her doublet.

Finally, Cinabre nodded, and the hominin's features showed their satisfaction.


"Fila, ser Andertini she said in a relieved voice. "You're really robbing me of a decatninde di valande".

The young Matis nodded. The homine pretended to get up and walk away, but half-turning, she added:

"I certainly don't need to recommend absolute discretion... Meria naia, ser Andertini"

Joining her people, the Matisse smiled. It wasn't every day one negotiated a deal with a future ambassador of the Kingdom...

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Cinabre Andertini,
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