The speaker is a young woman in a black tank top, a long knife held in her left hand. Moonlight glints off of a thick silver pin holding her layered jet-black hair away from her face and twin Rottweilers sit obediently to her left and right. The dogs' bodies ripple with muscle beneath their short hair, and you have little doubt that they could tear a mortal to pieces in seconds.
Hauberk hands her the modified hand-cannon that he'd herded you here with. It looks like it weighs a ton.
"Agad the Imperishable's clan doesn't matter, Sevinc," Ward says. "You know that. If I judged you the same way, you wouldn't be standing here beside me." He turns back to you. "I hope you'll pardon Hauberk's methodology. I would have retrieved you myself, but I don't dare show my face that close to the Hill. I should have made sure he treated you with a little more respect."