"You know, back in Metaena, women are so rare they're practically considered treasures," Jorik began, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia.
"True. They're traded like goods, and those traders... they cut the women's tongues to keep them silent."
"Too bad, though, their chatter can be both annoying and endearing, right?" came another laugh from someone within the group, trying to lighten the mood and ease the tension that had quickly filled the room.
Murmurs of agreement echoed around the table, though not all seemed comfortable with the reminiscence.
"I realized It's a barbaric practice," muttered Halvor, a younger man whose time in the Central World had broadened his views. "Here, in Centra Gamaaloth Kingdom, women speak their minds, lead communities..."
"Like the Queen riding a dragon!" interjected Erik, pointing his mug towards Jorik. "Never would've thought to see such a day back home."
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