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[The letter begins in an elegant cursive but ends in a harsh sloping scrawl.]
Ethel,
Forces are at work in Baldur's Gate. The mewling wretches are trying to edge me out of my own territory. I've killed at least four of their agents. None have talked. Not yet, at least.
I doubt you hear anything beyond the bleating of your ridiculous sheep, but if you catch even a whisper, send word. Immediately.
M