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[3/3]
The six slave spearmen that have stepped forward mill about with uncertainty at the base of the palanquin, there are several nervous glances back to the raised hand of their master as they await the signal to confirm the attack. None of them look particularly keen to test the fully armoured knight even with the advantage in numbers, and the translated ominous promise of this supposedly crazed barbarian has done nothing to whet their meagre appetite for combat.
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> “I accept your challenge, unjust as it is, but these are my terms. Stand your minions down, and send forth your finest warrior. I expect the best, -your- best, and my blade will settle for nothing less.” You’ve no appetite for cutting down barely-armed slaves for their amusement, be it one or one hundred. With the Angel on your side no challenger is beyond you, even that mercenary with the bicolour eyes. [Divine]
> “You have seen my credentials, heard of my deeds. I would know more of the Masters of Silk and Spice, who seem to find my own achievements so paltry in comparison.” You suspect that the Merchanta are overstepping. Now you just need to keep the Merchanta interested in talking until the correct officials, likely the Medusae, finally arrive and put a stop to this nonsense. [Hearty]
> “I do not recognise the authority of those present to challenge my entry into the Dragon’s honour guard. I will not play your games, nor allow you to condemn innocent men to certain death by my blade in doing so. Good day, sirs.” You withdraw from the Crescent Palace. You may make your arrangements for an introduction to the appropriate officials through the Sword Sisters or Norsikaans, although this may cause some delay. [Idealist]
