Amid the tumultuous din, their shouts cleaved through the air, "Ward! Where in blazes is Boss Ward?" The raucous cries instantly snared everyone's attention.
For a moment, there was no reply. But atop a wooden table in the hall, the four men finally set their sights on the one they'd been hunting for. They hastened their steps towards it.
There he reclined, a wiry figure with two scimitars dangling from his hips, swathed in a cloak. One foot was nonchalantly propped on a chair as he nibbled on the dried meat from the table, each bite slow and measured. It was naught but common rations, yet every motion of his made it seem as if he were relishing the most lavish of feasts.
"What's the fuss?" he drawled with an air of indifference, casting a cursory glance at the quartet now standing before him. Of course, he'd caught their shouts, but he couldn't be arsed to respond.
