The allied fleet's sails blotted out Minas Tirith Harbor.
Baron Kru thrust out his belly as he became the first to descend the Sea Lion's gangway.
Six fully armed and armored Fourth-Level Knights followed him. They represented his family's strength and gave him confidence for the campaign ahead.
By custom, what followed should have been flattery from the harbor officials, then some bargaining over quarters and accommodations.
Yet there was no welcoming crowd on the docks. Only a young man dressed in the robes of a high-ranking official approached.
Tristan held a folder in his hand. Without so much as glancing at Baron Kru, he looked straight at the ship.
"Sea Lion, captain Buckley, passengers Baron Kru and one hundred and twenty-six armed personnel." The young man checked his records.
"Berth Three. Assemble for roll call in Zone B. Quartermaster Barton will receive you. Baron, your quarters are room seven on the third floor of the Lord's Manor's east wing."
All the speeches Baron Kru had prepared caught in his throat.
The other man knew not only his ship's name, but exactly how many men he had brought-which was certainly commendable.
What irritated him, however, was that strictly businesslike attitude, devoid of any respect.
He cleared his throat and assumed the imposing air of a liege addressing a vassal. "My knightly guard must stay with me. They are responsible for my safety."
Tristan finally raised his head. "Baron, those are military orders. All organized units must remain intact. Your six knights constitute a cavalry unit and have been assigned to the Northern Joint Camp, near the stables and training ground. Three hundred guards patrol the harbor, and the Lord's Manor has a standing guard. You need not worry about your safety."
Baron Kru could tell that the young man was