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Galbatorix was in the tavern, a hood drawn over his face this time. It wasn't that he didn't want to hide his identity, he just wanted to be able to talk to people without them quaking with fear and hiding things. He had been asking people if they had seen anyone who matched Kerriel's description, acting like a father who's daughter had been taken from him. The play was a success, for the people were sympathetic and one or two even heard about her.
He was just heading to the bar to ask another person when he saw a familiar face. It was the elf, the arrogant one that had refused to swear fealty to him. With a cruel smile, Galbatorix made sure his face was hidden in shadow and walked over to him.
"Excuse me," he said, using the modern tongue so as to not come off as suspicious. "I am looking for my daughter, she has been taken from me..."
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