"Mr. Seber, look at that." A mercenary leader nearby took off his brass telescope and looked at the spire, then quickly handed it to the noble lord beside him.
Lord Jin Guo sat steadily on his horse—an Eruein Anlek horse of excellent lineage, used by Eruein's cavalry in battles once, though later replaced by Flying Dragons, nobles still rode horses to display their status—he took the telescope and glanced through it, then calmly handed it to his companion: the chubby industrialist, Burnley.
Lord Jin Guo wasn't particularly nervous. Even if Count Dune died in their territory, it would merely tarnish their reputation; local nobles like them paid less attention to such matters and more to tangible benefits. Should Your Majesty assign blame, Luc Besson, the old scoundrel, would bear it, not the local gentry.
