I don't deserve this welcome. I really, really don't.
In front of the citadel's gate, two soldiers clad in plate stand, blocking the path with crossed spears. As you draw near, they snap to attention. One looks over his shoulder and cries, "Vist!" Clear.
They uncross their spears and step to the side.
A sound, strange and unnerving to your ears, rises from inside. It is thunderous cheering.
And chanting.
"Inae Dirriman! Inae Dirriman!"
You and Darin share a glance as you pass under the arch of the gateway.
He chuckles.
"Remember, Marshal, thou art mortal."
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