Sabatine hopped off the ATV feeling slightly off kilter as a result of the insufficient suspension. She snugged her gladius up on its sling, making no attempt to conceal the short powerful weapon. Several guards stirred from positions of deliberate langor, hefting their own weapons. For the most part these were slug throwers, cheaper and cruder than what the legions generally used but no less effective for all that.

Sabatine and Tiber walked up the stairs, ignoring the thugs with the stuided indifference of professional soldiers. The thugs looked nervous. There was a romance about legionaires and it was hard to kick the feeling of inferiority. It made some men trigger happy, but fortunately it was making these men nervous. The pair reached the doors and pushed them open. The interior of the building was an audience chamber supported by classic Imperial columns. A raised diaz at the end held a throne like chair on which a fit looking man with blonde hair and a neatly trimmed goatee. He wore the embroided robes of an Imperial magistrate, robes that he had no legal right to, but it wasn't as though a Pratorian Prelate and a bunch of enforcers were likely to show up and dispute the point.

Ketcharch Gorm was not alone. The hall was filled with hangers on, thugs, and supplicants. There was a haze of smoke, a smell of sweat and the background smell of proccessed alcohol. Clearly the party yesterday had been intense. Two supplicants were arguing before the Ketcharch. One was an older man, sinewy and hard, the other younger but already begining to go bald.

"Chieftan Kanos stole my fish and never rendered payment, we all know this to be true!" young one was shouting, words trembling with rage.

"Lies! I have presented the documents which clearly show the debits from my treasury!" the older one replied. The Ketcharch held up a hand silencing them both.

"Silence please, it appears the heroic defenders of our great Empire have honored us with their presence. Let us all show our respect," Gorm called in a powerful voice.

"A shame that you didn't come a few days ago Legionaires, we had quite a party to celebrate my birthday," Gorm continued, a slight edge coming to his voice. Sabatine and Tiber walked to the center of the hall, the two fueding chieftans scurrying to the sides.

"So we heard," Sabatine said drly. "Infact a couple of men came to my farm to tell me about it." Gorm sat up looking suddenly more alert. A wave of tension went through the crowd.

"Indeed... three of my friends have been missing for several days," Gorm said coldly.

"Tragically, they perished in a series of farming mishaps," Sabatine informed him, "a likely outcome for anyone who comes onto an Opal fruit orchard without the guidance of the owner."