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Petra Fortress.
Under the escort of two light pickup trucks, Count Losjin, who shared a motorcycle with a servant, drove out of the city with a grim face.
Resting his arm on the car window, the captain of the guard in the passenger seat of the pickup waved to signal the driver to speed up and get closer. He leaned out the window towards Count Losjin and said with a smile, "If you need help, remember to shout loudly. We're not petty people. We'll come to help."
"No need for your help! I'd be thankful if you'd just keep your distance!" Losjin glanced at the machine gun in the back of the pickup and winced, then turned his face to shout over the howling wind, "Can you put that thing away? We're not going to war... Are you trying to kill me? What if our distant friends get the wrong idea?"
The guard captain and the driver exchanged a puzzled look, not quite understanding his point, but they ultimately complied with his odd request.
He reached out the window, tapping on the roof. "Put away the machine gun."
"Yes!" At the captain's command, the gunner in the back of the pickup skillfully...
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