Darin sat inside his carriage, pinching the bridge of his nose as he glanced at the Stranger, a man who had devoted himself wholeheartedly to being Darin's most deliriously loyal cultist.
Darin had made the mistake of asking if everyone was ready to move out.
The Stranger had taken this as an opportunity to monologue.
"Overlord, my brethren, true disciples of your grand design, will join us in three days' time. They march even now, prepared to heed your every command!"
the Stranger declared with the reverence of a man delivering the gospel. "We will swell your forces, carving a path of destiny as foretold in the—"
"Great, great, thanks," Darin cut him off, already exhausted. "Just don't cause any trouble on the way."
The Stranger gasped as if Darin had just issued a divine decree. "Never, my Lord! We walk only as the path of fate allows, and by your will—"
Darin opened the carriage window and called out, "Vincent! If this guy starts preaching, trip him!"
