Judge and his master strutted out of the railway station like they'd just robbed a candy shop but didn't quite have the nerve to run. The capital stretched out before them, a chaotic mess of architectural ambition and public transportation chaos. The air smelled faintly of coal, horse manure, and that special brand of sweat reserved for people who just missed their trains. Truly, a welcoming aroma.
Seraphis, now disguised as Saphiel— the world's most intimidating mercenary who also happened to be cosplaying as a merc guild big shot— adjusted his coat with the air of someone who had better things to do but somehow still ended up here.
