Vaahnzerekh had no trouble picking the diplomat out of the three men awaiting his arrival at the gatehouse. Two of the men were typical Fallien bodyguards, swarthy skinned brutes wearing the robes and scarves of the desert. The third man however, was fair skinned, with long shining hair like spun gold and wore light robes that looked as if it did nothing to keep the ever present grains of sand off of his tender skin.

“This is the mystic Doug Mac Faot,” the guard on duty introduced the fair skinned young man to Captain Shallier, “a representative from the City of Light to the mystic enclave in Fallien.” Then, turning to Doug, he reciprocated. “Doug, this is Shallier, Captain of the Western Wall of Irrakam.”

Shallier cocked his head slightly to one side, examining the young diplomat. The introduction seemed straightforward but there was something about it that he didn’t quite understand. It was as if the word mystic had a different meaning than the meaning he knew for it. Shrugging it off, he had Shallier’s face smile and offered his hand to the young man.

“That’s quite alright,” Doug said, shying away from the Captain’s hand with a look of disgust. “No greetings necessary.”

All the Fallien natives except for Shallier looked at each other with amusement. For his part Shallier simply dropped his smile and said, “papers?”

Twin dots of crimson appeared on the youth’s cheeks, though they were hard to distinguish from the flush the sun had painted onto his face, “y-yes of course.” After a few minutes of fumbling the required papers were produced and placed gently in Shallier’s weathered hands. Shallier nodded and motioned for the group to remain where they were while he checked the paperwork. The gate guards instantly fell into an easy conversation with the diplomat’s bodyguards, discussing how the trip through the desert had been for them.

Vaahnzerekh scanned the diplomat’s passport, a brand new piece of paper that had only the stamp of the young man’s departure from Outlander’s Post to mar its smooth surface. As the guard had explained to him, the passport granted the diplomat free movement between Outlander’s Post, Irrakam, and the Mystic Enclave. Apparently, Vaahnzerekh noted, mystics were a race of creature similar in appearance to humans. Idly he wondered what difference, if any, there were between the species. It would be something to note in his report to Khotemi. Perhaps another infiltration team would have found some information that would answer the question. But then again …

A thought struck Vaahnzerekh, something that was simple in its execution but played Vaahnzerekh into an excellent position.

Shallier stamped that the document was in order and then returned to the waiting men. It was apparent that the diplomat thought he was better than the Fallien men, more important, which was something Vaahnzerekh could exploit. “You two,” Shallier gestured at the bodyguards, “are no longer necessary. You may go on your way.”

The two men looked at each other in surprise then shrugged, waved their thanks to the gate guards, and walked away. “But,” the diplomat began, his voice whiny and petulant.

Shallier silenced him with a look. “Someone of your status,” he explained, “should be escorted into our great city by a man of greater position. It is only right.”

“You?” the diplomat asked, warily. Shallier nodded. “Of course you are correct,” the diplomat quickly recovered his aura of self importance, “I welcome your offer, Captain …”

“Shallier.”

“Right. I welcome your offer Captain Shallier. Now, take me to the palace at once.”

Shallier smiled a little too wide and gestured for the diplomat to follow him.