[A couple of inkspots appear on the page, as if the owner of the journal is pondering what to write. Then a short pause, and it switches over to voice. Or perhaps "voice." After a minute of nothing but the wind and the faint sound of the river, the entry is cut off by the sound of the journal closing
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It is merely a flute.
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... Have you been well, otherwise? It seems that it's been quite a while.
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No, but... I was curious as to how your training had been going. It's a little disappointing that so few seem to be invested in wanting to learn to defend themselves. Especially with a draft coming up.
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