The drunken music that poured out of a nearby pole-house and the raucous shouts and laughter that accompanied it successfully drowned out any sounds that might have carried. We wouldn't have the time or opportunity to tell them either. A ten-man escort had arrived aboard our ship that very evening. We'd barely had the time to wipe the paint from our faces before we were called to meet them. The leader of the guards was a tall brawny man with a cleft chin and a glass eye. Like the other guards, he wore a uniform of green stained leather and bronze trappings. “High Steward Winton Headly has received your case and wishes to grant you audience on behalf of His Excellency the true King of Lastland, Prince Varion. Ready yourself. Gather your effects. You have fifteen minutes and we will depart.” Heavily armed as they all were, four of them looked different. These others wore bronze and black armor and carried a single weapon: a metal spear.
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