The small boat docked at the pier, where a man who had been waiting there recognized Lancelot standing at the bow of the ship. He gave a nod to his companion, and the men who appeared to be dock workers promptly started moving.
"Good day, Sir."
Once the group had landed, the man who seemed to be the leader gave Lancelot a nod and greeted her quietly. Lancelot responded with a nod of acknowledgement.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Konis Waldo."
Wolsingham's right-hand man, Waldo, was a man of average appearance with brown hair, his face so common that he would be swallowed up by the crowd if he were to walk down the street. It suited his profession, which required him to keep a low profile. A pair of gray-blue eyes were sizing up the visitors behind Lancelot, eventually resting on Roland.
(He's very similar to those guys from the Stasi.)
Underneath the unabashedly rude gaze, Roland could only smirk wryly in his heart.
