Principality Governor Chastaine looked over the Consul’s recommendations, eyes glittering at his fortune. “Seems a Serf shall be our savior.”

“Governor, you can’t possibly be considering this.”

“Lieutenant Joplin, I know your crop is twitching in your hand, but please, control yourself.”

Lieutenant Joplin’s ice-blue eyes narrowed, his ever-present crop indeed tapping against his thigh, small sparks dancing along the black body armor which fitted over his dress greys. As one of the most decorated Enforcers in the Principality, he had a reputation not only for his brutality, but for the sheer ice in his veins when it came to enforcing the Edicts and Laws, earning him the moniker Gelid among his peers.

“Her request is like providence falling right into our hands. She does the legwork, and we get the glory.”

“But for a Serf to be without escort in the Outlands is outrageous! What if she falls prey…

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