Ment
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A middle-aged man with short-cropped hair, a lean, angular face, and large, round eyes that strangely contrasted with his low forehead, sat behind a large table opposite the entrance. An entire squad could fit behind such a table, and the man seemed to enjoy the fact that all this space, disturbed only by an inkwell, a small stack of papers, and a box, belonged solely to him, as he sat at the table with the bearing not of an official, but of a lord.
-- Good morning. How may I help you?