"The nobles?" Hubert's finger fiddled with the paper in hand.
"You heard me. Those scoundrels, not faker than when you pay for a brothel worker, nor faker than an agent of the dark moon, the assassin organization, undercover. They're just a bunch of hungry dogs, aiming for one another," the man said, taking another breath as he spoke.
"But the east has been peaceful, the lord of Storsea, I saw, and too was the patrolling of knights from the port. Not a single bandit have I met in my journey, unless one that was sent specifically," Hubert told.
The man clicked his tongues repeatedly, like the sound of the cricket as he shook his head.
"No, no, you're expecting a fight with swords and spears, the wrong kind. Look at it from another canvass, as I call it, the canvass of money. Gold and silver, all the merchant groups here had to take a side, otherwise, they wouldn't survive for a single day in this kennel," he said, taking another gulp from his wine.
