The Captain of the Guard was a rather handsome young man. His attire bore some resemblance to the soldiers of the Old Empire Era, with a bucket helmet sitting atop what looked like a worn-out mop of hair. He inspected every crate of supplies they passed—prying them open with a dagger. If it was tea, he'd let it pass. If it was sugar, he'd grab a handful, either popping it into his mouth or stuffing it into his pocket.
The poet once again presented the Count's order, shaking the paper so it crackled. The Captain of the Guard hesitated for a moment. "Alright, but everything you take out of here is subject to my inspection."
As they entered, Rorschach lowered his voice and said to the poet, "You pulled a fast one. That captain is greedy. He wouldn't have been so agreeable otherwise."
There had been a flare of Magic Power when the poet shook the paper. It seemed he had used the Count's special permit as a hypnotic tool.
