223. Welcome to Gorgoth

The five guards approaching were dressed in the typical neo-Roman style. A chest plate that was a combination of leather and metal. A shirt that was long enough to form a kind of skirt. Long boots that laced up to the knee. Every soldier in Flatland wore some variation of this getup, from the very first ones we’d encountered in Probet, to the ones in the various cities we’d visited.

Their swords weren’t drawn, so that was a good sign. But it was immediately obvious the druids weren’t happy to see them. Which meant there was going to be a problem of some kind in a minute, and we would be dragged into it. I eyed the exits. Even outdoors, there are routes that are open and ones that are blocked.

“Dereel, Deneel,” called out the lead guard. “What have I told you about interfering with traffic? We’re in the middle of the harvest delivery, and you’re clogging up the thoroughfare.”

He was a short stocky man, with heavy eyebrows and a prominent nose. All the guards had tig