In a way, the Arabyan estate wasn't too unlike the larger aristocratic domains of the north. The walls surrounding the small palace were made of stone, likely sandstone, and the guardrooms at the base of the towers and framing the gates were small and square. Laughing and cursing could be heard within as the two passed onto the stone road that lightly curved upwards climbing a low, undoubtedly artificial hill. Along the parapets behind as well as the roofstop of the approaching manor, the patrols walked to and fro lazily, or were lost in thought on various musings of their lives. Obviously they had been in this job so long they weren't as alert as a new recruit would be, though Markus could make out all eyes inevitably fell on he and Emmaline, seeing as they brazenly walked under the failing light of the sky and her voluptuous charms were on display for all to take a gander at. At the corner of his eye, Markus could see a well tended garden with a spring pool that gently cascaded water from the mouths of two stone jungle cats. On the left was all of the pragmatic housing and equipment storages a baron would need for his servants and soldiers.

The two approached the great central stairway amid the marble pillars that held up a large foyer, leading into the solidly built palace halls. Two large, swarthy skinned guards approached. Their glaives were likely ceremonial in use, but Markus could tell they knew how to use them if it came to it. They stepped down two of the large steps in tandem, eyeing Markus and Emmaline. The woman looked a bit uneasy, and Markus whispered to her. "I doubt you'll have to touch him. In fact, I'll kill him if he does." 

"This was your idea!" She whispered harshly, then she turned and fluttered her lashes at the guards. 

"For the master of the household," Markus declared, his voice clear even though the cloth covered all but his dark eyes. He spanked Emmaline for good measure, which sent her in a small leap and a squeal. The guards chuckled at that, a bit of the tension dropping. They spoke to one another in their language, a dialect Markus had a hard time deciphering. Something about the master needing a new batch of women. They exchanged a coin, likely from a bet between the two of them. 

The one who had won the bet beckoned for Emmaline to come forward. She did so obediently, and Markus slowly began to follow her, pressing his luck. 

"You can go," the loser said grimly. Markus met his stare and did not flinch. The guards above were too high up to be able to see the exchange below, but Markus knew fighting now was still far too blunt of a solution.

"My own master in Copher paid many coins for her and for our travels. It would be a dishonor to not see her safely to the one who would acquire her." He explained, lifting his head with authority. 

"Too bad. You can go back to Copher and tell him she was received. Do so now or we'll send back your head." The other warned, waiting for Markus to back down, which he did after a moment of hesitation. The Captain gave a low, prideful bow and turned, striding down the steps and towards the road that led to the gate. Ever were his eyes on the two guards, and as soon as he saw them both turn to stand between Emmaline so as to escort her, he quickly ducked and made his way left, towards the cover of the gardens. If there was a way in, he would find it there.