
Lord Amn-gul Hi’Dok, Sectelate of the Southern Drifts, bearer of the crown of Crater Fold, adorned in the pearl cuttings of the Vorshalki, wearer of silk and walker in some really comfortable and fancy shoes, was the most magnificent person Gizzek had ever impersonated.
He turned his inner smile into a scowl and frowned at the surrounding luxury and opulence in the way that only nobility could.
“I was told there would be two.”
The Fleshman glanced at the Scarabman and they both looked at the two women, scantily clad in veils and jewels. Neither made eye contact with Lord Amn-gul, Gizzek pretender.
The Fleshman spoke. “If these two are not acceptable, I can arrange…”
“I am not speaking to you.” Snarled the Lord. The Scarabman’s eyes went wide. He clutched the glass-topped box he had with white knuckles. The single large insect inside the box did not appear to share his apprehension.
“It appears we misunderstood your desires, my lord. I shall bring another immediately.” He bowed and exited simultaneously, a talent he’d long since acquired. The Fleshman also bowed, extending his arms toward the two women.
“I shall remove one of these from your presence, my lord. Do you have a preference?”
“I don’t give a damn.” He turned and, walking past a pair of guards, entered the pleasure chambers.
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