Noble leaned forward in his chair, trying to get a count on those glittering golden coins. His heart rate had sped up at the sight of them, and he hated himself for it — because they weren't thieves.

They hadn't been thieves before, at least. Noble had not been a murderer before either. Now he was one. Did thieving make a difference, at this point?

"How many? From where?" Noble said, hating himself again because he sounded — excited.

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