Ostus brushed off Kiara's comment with a knowing smirk. "You bet your ass I don't know my place," he said, eyeing the guards. "Now, as she said..."
The two guards sent Ostus scathing glances before exchanging looks and a nod. One of the guards stepped forward. "We will see about this," he said, his voice heavily accented. He eyed Kiara. "Your coloring suggests you're from Astora, but you do not look like any princess." He turned his gaze to Ostus. "Your weapons, give them up."
Ostus didn't like entering unfamiliar territory, especially enemy territory, unarmed. What if all of this was just a ruse to kill the princess or take her hostage? He eyed the man in challenge, unmoving. Both guards placed their hands on the hilts of their swords. One of them glanced up. Ostus flickered his gaze upward along the massive stone wall to see several archers at the top, arrows at the ready. Damn. It seemed he would not have a choice in the matter.
Keeping his smirk, he removed his broadsword from his back, passing it over to the guard, who in turn handed it to his partner.
"Move a muscle and you will die along with your supposed princess," the guard said. "If you are as you say you are, then your weapons will be returned to you." With that, the guard began to disarm Ostus further. Somehow this guard knew all the places where Ostus kept daggers hidden; these men were well-trained. Ostus gritted his teeth throughout it all. Even if he somehow managed to attack this guard and position him as a shield against falling arrows, there would be no way he'd be able to also save Kiara from the archers' line of sight. He swallowed his pride and endured, inwardly reminding himself that there was no reason to attack, that these men would not harm them, that they were supposed to be here. It was difficult; he had been fighting Berinike men for most of his life.
Once finished, the guard stepped in front of Kiara, coal-black eyes studying her with disdain. "You as well. Pass over all of your weapons."
The two guards sent Ostus scathing glances before exchanging looks and a nod. One of the guards stepped forward. "We will see about this," he said, his voice heavily accented. He eyed Kiara. "Your coloring suggests you're from Astora, but you do not look like any princess." He turned his gaze to Ostus. "Your weapons, give them up."
Ostus didn't like entering unfamiliar territory, especially enemy territory, unarmed. What if all of this was just a ruse to kill the princess or take her hostage? He eyed the man in challenge, unmoving. Both guards placed their hands on the hilts of their swords. One of them glanced up. Ostus flickered his gaze upward along the massive stone wall to see several archers at the top, arrows at the ready. Damn. It seemed he would not have a choice in the matter.
Keeping his smirk, he removed his broadsword from his back, passing it over to the guard, who in turn handed it to his partner.
"Move a muscle and you will die along with your supposed princess," the guard said. "If you are as you say you are, then your weapons will be returned to you." With that, the guard began to disarm Ostus further. Somehow this guard knew all the places where Ostus kept daggers hidden; these men were well-trained. Ostus gritted his teeth throughout it all. Even if he somehow managed to attack this guard and position him as a shield against falling arrows, there would be no way he'd be able to also save Kiara from the archers' line of sight. He swallowed his pride and endured, inwardly reminding himself that there was no reason to attack, that these men would not harm them, that they were supposed to be here. It was difficult; he had been fighting Berinike men for most of his life.
Once finished, the guard stepped in front of Kiara, coal-black eyes studying her with disdain. "You as well. Pass over all of your weapons."