"YOUR IMPERIAL MAJESTY," called the Commander of the [Black Guard] Escort again, "shall we engage?" The hard tone he employed said he really wanted to. But as a bred soldier of the elite Queensguard, he awaited the go-command of the Empress. The other gallant officers behind his flowing green cape all had their longswords out. He had a deadly javelin. He stood at ease.
About three quiet seconds passed and all the emerald-robed soldiers took poses to attack, their silver armor glinting in the fading evening. The scratchy voice of the Commander echoed once again up the deserted streets; mist scattered at his call. "High Empyrean, night is soon upon us. Allow us to rid the streets of this humongous freak so as to continue your cruise."
