Maron stepped through the gate and one guard stirred to smack a bug against his gaudy long coat. He swallowed forcefully and made the way east around the main hall, only to stand in front of Greenward's inner sanctum. The young administrator paused at the guards, while they bantered. The heat of the stone brazier, still smoldering from the morning's early snuff, prompted beads of sweat to fall as he tapped against the stone walk, skulking at the image of his own padded feet.
He sat for a time like this, voicing his lie beneath his breath, while he overheard the inner guardsmen speak.
"Did you hear what Lohta's working on now?"
"What is it this time? Something like that jewel fire contraption?"
A slight crunch could be heard beneath Maron's softboot and he lifted it to reveal a single silver knot. The young women of Quarter Harbor never wore their hair long. It was always so short, as was the culture of the Yra Peoples.
"No. It's called a moving gate."
"Oh, yeah! I'm surprised no one's come to shut this whole operation down. What a waste!"
The older women never wore silver, but gold, to tie their's back. Maron's thoughts bottle-necked in the back of his brain. He had become an idiot.
"What the State pays that moron, I'd give them two hundred men to move a --"
"Excuse me." Maron interjected, already in front of them from his seat. He flashed his probationary State crest, hoping they didn't notice the absence of a star on it. "This is an official State audit."