The burly man in the lead grinned, revealing teeth stained yellow from tobacco. He strode toward Garris.
The woolen vest he wore reeked of livestock, a smell that seemed to awaken a deep-seated fear in Garris.
"Little Garris, why so quiet after seeing your uncle? Did a leech from the swamp eat your tongue?"
The burly man's booming voice was full of mockery.
Little Garris.
When they heard that name, the jaws of the Seven Ports Alliance representatives nearly hit the floor. They exchanged looks of utter shock.
The smile on Garris's face completely shattered, but he still tried to maintain a final shred of dignity.
He forced a smile that looked uglier than a grimace. "W-Why are you here? You didn't even send word you were coming to visit." He turned to the side, trying to lead the burly man away from Velin, to emphasize that this was a family matter.
But Golden Whistle paid him no mind, instead slapping him hard on the shoulder, sending up a human-shaped cloud of dust.
