Some ants bite, hard

Woe to Ironbriar. He thought he was superior, knew that he was to the vast unwashed masses of humanity and others in the streets of Magnimar. They were fodder for his god, mere ants to be squashed when the whim took him. It was a service to the undertrodden of the community. The greedy were leaching them dry. Best they be done away with, and if it served the needs of his new mistress, Ironbriar thought that was even better.

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