Chapter 4: The Birth of an Empire
As Marcus approached the gathered ranks of soldiers, a few finally reacted to his presence. A group broke off to meet him, one calling out in a loud voice. "Halt! State your purpose."
Marcus sagged in relief. He'd been fairly sure that they spoke the same language based on the few shouted commands he'd heard, but this confirmed it. The fact that they hadn't attacked him on sight was a huge plus, as well. That would make things so much easier. Maybe his [Silver Tongue] could actually be of use.
Marcus swept into a courtly bow, his cloak flourishing around him. "Greetings. My name is Marcus Silvanus D'Angelo, and I have come to speak with your leader."
"For what purpose?" The man didn't budge. He spoke in a harsh and unfamiliar accent, but it wasn't without a certain politeness. It reminded him of how people up north talked, but a little less guttural and more clipped. Marcus felt that the man was honestly asking for his intent, and he would maybe pass it along if it was interesting enough.
Leaping at the opportunity, he launched into the spiel he'd prepared on the way over. "I come to offer my knowledge and wisdom. As a traveler of many lands, I am well acquainted with this area and the world as a whole. As such, I wish to extend an offer of aid to you, who I expect may have found yourselves in quite the unfamiliar place. And…" he paused for a moment, considering whether to add the final bit. "...I must admit some curiosity as to your intentions for this fine town."
The soldier fixed him with a hard stare, then grumbled. He glanced toward one of his compatriots and the man went running. Hopefully, it was to find someone higher up the chain. The man returned his gaze to Marcus. "You will wait here."
"Of course, of course," Marcus agreed easily. Finally, a chance to take a break. He straightened, maintaining a fittingly regal stance while still appearing open and approachable. It seemed that they would be waiting a little while, so perhaps he could work on making some inroads in the meantime. "Might I ask for your name, good sir?"
His question was met with a stony silence. The soldier didn't even acknowledge he had spoken. Inwardly, he grimaced. It seemed that making conversation would be a little more difficult than he'd expected.
After a few more tries at striking up conversation, he decided to abandon the idea. The utter lack of the man's responses further cemented that he had no command over these summoned beings. Clearly, them not listening to him was a choice. No, he simply had to hope that talking to their leader would shed some more light on the situation. If he couldn't command him… then perhaps he'd need to change tactics and make himself an asset instead.