Tobias's “keepers” weren't any fewer, or any less intimidating, when he re-entered the room after his talk with the monarchs. The room was full of people, and they all looked up curiously when he came in beside their Queen and Consort. He could tell most of the guards because they were uniformed, and those he could see were all fully adult unseelie sidhe. They were also arranged in a rough line against the walls of the room, giving them a certain coherence that the rest of the group lacked. Mostly, there were a lot of them, and they were huge.

And his lips were coming up off his teeth in response, Tobias realized. Stop it, he told himself. They're guards. It's good that they're big. With Moriyana in his arms, though, it was hard to ignore them. He was outclassed in a way that he hadn't been since spending time with Bighana in the kitchen, and he hadn't had Moriyana to worry about then. With effort, Tobias turned his attention to the rest of the room.

The rest of the group was much less organized than the guards, and much more diverse. Besides the satyr, brownies, and werewolf he'd seen before, there was at least one goblin or dwarf, and some other type of big winged fae - smaller than the unseelie, with smaller horns and colorfully webbed wings instead of black. It made them look more like the butterfly-winged little folk than Tobias did – like a missing link, almost, between the two.

The features reminded him a bit of Blaise Zabini, Tobias realized. Perhaps he was seelie sidhe? Though if Blaise had wings, he'd been wearing charms on them all the time Tobias had known him. Surely the 'seelie' and the 'unseelie' fae would both have wings, though?

Ugh. He understood so little about the fae, still. For all he knew, the seelie and unseelie were as unrelated as brownies and goblins.

He suspected there were more people he couldn't even see in the crowd, but the People came in such varying sizes he couldn't be sure. Consort Mohira was enormous, he realized again. He'd noticed how much bigger Mohira was than Tobias when they'd first met, but now he realized that the man was also bigger than most of the guards. Whom Tobias was not noticing or worrying about or especially growling at.

Someone was pulling his hair, he realized. He looked down at his little daughter, and couldn't help but smile. She had a thin blue-black lock of his hair wrapped around her perpetually-slimy fist and was happily slobbering all over it. When Mohira had just told him how important it was that his hair be presentable. Great. At least she wasn't fussing, though. “Hi Monster,” he said softly.

Note to self: always braid my hair. He'd put it up as neatly as he could that morning when he'd known the monarchs were on their way, but it was just tied in a low tail. Evidently, that was a mistake. Mo had had a teething ring that morning. Now she had his hair. Where the ring had ended up was anyone's guess. Lovely. Just the thing to impress his new entourage. He couldn't bring himself to take it away from her, though – and it hardly mattered, now. If he took it away, she'd just find another piece, and this one was already slimy.

Looking around the room again, Tobias finally noticed a comparatively diminutive sidhe off to one side of the room. The sidhe quickly noticed Tobias' attention, and met his eyes in return before bowing deeply to him in a way that was very familiar from Tobias' heir book. It was either Archivist Kylpin, or a different sidhe whom Archivist Kylpin had chosen to demonstrate the bows in his book. He suspected Kylpin, though – from the archivist's description of his job, Tobias guessed that few others had access to the books or any part in their creation.

It was a surprisingly sharp pleasure to recognize the older fae in the sea of faces, and Tobias found himself hoping that Archivist Kylpin would be one of his teachers. He'd come to enjoy the letters they'd sent back and forth over the last weeks while the Monarchs had been hunting him. Smiling slightly at the irony, and guessing that Archivist Kylpin was his teacher and as such one of the “technical inferiors” he'd described in the heir book, Harry returned his bow as respectfully as he knew how, earning himself a small smile and a nod.

Though evidently quite short, among male fae, Archivist Kylpin was a striking figure. Tobias had noticed the fae's straight white hair in the images in his book, but the archivist's most prominent feature by far were the markings on his arms. Kylpin must've been wearing long sleeves, in the book, or Tobias was sure he'd've noticed the marks before. In contrast to Tobias', Kylpin's marks were pale, so much so that they seemed to glow silver against the fae's mahogany skin.

They should've looked garish, Tobias realized. If the marks had been wide flowing vines like Tobias', they'd have made him look zebra-striped. Fortunately, Kylpin's bright white markings were an loose, intricate weave of thinner lines and small dots, and while the white-on-black pattern was certainly dramatic, it did not detract from the fae's dignity. If Tobias hadn't known better, he'd've thought the fae nobleman was wearing some sort of brocade, or elaborate jewelry – ornate silver bands that swirled around his joints and stretched all the way down to his wrists.

The human book he'd read about “dark fairies” in Diagon Alley had said that their markings lightened with age, Tobias realized suddenly. If the book was accurate, Archivist Kylpin was the oldest fae in the room. Once he realized that, he also noticed the fae's slightly stooped posture and crow's feet – both features that none of the other sidhe in the room shared. So maybe the book had been accurate, on that point.

But then...Mohira was clearly older than Tobias by quite a bit, and his markings hadn't lightened any that Tobias could see. Sheyanan's were a bit lighter, but that could also be hue – hers were a cranberry so dark it was more like ruby, where Mohira's were black like Tobias'. Maybe Mohira's and his would end up more colorful with age? Tobias' hair looked black, but seen in strong enough sunlight it turned out to actually be blue. For all he knew, his marks were the same. Archivist Kylpin's were very pale, but Tobias could still tell that they had been bluish, or even purple – they were now like silver or brightly-polished pewter, not at all gold.

He had more examples, he realized suddenly, looking at the other sidhe in the room. He hadn't noticed their markings before, but now he did, and those that he could see were all quite dark, and mostly brown or blackish, though one or two showed some color. Most of the skin underneath was darker than Tobias' or Sheyanan's – more like Mohira's. It made their markings much more subtle. Mohira's was so dark that his markings almost disappeared against the background black.

Lliannan-she had been lighter, Tobias remembered – more like Sheyanan's pale skin than Mohira's dark. Mo was cappuccino – closer to Sheyanan's coloring than to Mohira's. It made her look much more like Tobias' biological daughter than she otherwise would've.

Goodness am I white, Tobias realized suddenly. His marks were dramatic, the black almost as stark as zebra-stripes across the white skin of his arms and face. His aunt may not have objected so strongly, if Tobias' skin had been darker underneath the black markings. Oh sure, Tobias realized a moment later. She'd've had no problem with the wings and horns, if the tattoos hadn't contrasted so badly. There's the one.

But now was not a good time to be brooding. Turning his attention outwards again, Tobias returned to surveying the room.

He recognized one of the guards, Tobias realized suddenly. He had met him in this same room that morning – he'd been there when Tobias had first met with the Monarchs. Mohira had called him by a name – like some sort of tree. Pine? Spruce? No – Fir. Fir-nesh, or something. Firrneth?

Anyway, Tobias had been surrounded by guards – as he was now – and Mohira had noticed his discomfort and ordered this guard to leave and take the other guards with him. The guard had protested, and Mohira had insisted, but had not seemed surprised at the protest. Tobias didn't imagine that many of Mohira's men had the same level of privilege.

The same guard had also been the one to spell the Longbottom conference room for security when they were meeting with Dumbledore, Tobias remembered. Tobias had been surprised to see the fae use magic.

But he'd been looking too long. The guard evidently noticed his attention, and gave a deep bow that was somehow not as friendly as the archivist's had been. Not – unfriendly, exactly, but Kylpin had smiled, like he'd been glad to see Tobias, or at least approving of the bow Tobias had chosen to greet him with. The guard was neutral – neutral enough to be unnerving. He reminded Tobias of Kingsley Shacklebolt, the taciturn black man he'd seen occasionally at the Order Headquarters, whose only reaction to finding out that Tobias was Harry Potter had been the one word - “interesting”. Surely the guard must have some opinion of Tobias, by now, but it didn't show on his face.

For a moment, Tobias wasn't really sure how or if to bow back – the bow Firr-whoever-it-was had given him was that of a commoner – but then it seemed likely that this was the captain of Mohira's bodyguards, and therefore someone worthy of respect. The Heir book had said he wasn't supposed to bow to a commoner, usually, but then this 'commoner' had felt comfortable questioning the King. Did the guard count as a 'commoner held in high esteem', a 'technical inferior' like a teacher, or just another commoner and not someone Tobias should bow to at all?

But the man had bowed to him, and Tobias found himself terribly uncomfortable just ignoring it. It was probably better to err on the side of too much respect, than too little, right? Unsure, Tobias gave the guard the bow to a commoner, then looked to Archivist Kylpin. The archivist gave him a slight smile, and a nod. Apparently, he hadn't done too badly.

“Everyone,” Mohira spoke up then, “allow Her Majesty and me to personally present our heir, His Highness Tobias Sheyananre Ardmohira-she James Bâtard. Please take the time to memorize his face, as you are all here because you are responsible for his safety and welfare as well as that of Her Highness Moriyana-she.”

They had all already been staring at him, but now they all bowed, some more deeply than others. Firrnesh/th and Archivist Kylpin both bowed again, and deeper this time. Because it's more formal? Tobias wondered. He could've really done without the whole bowing thing. It made him terribly uncomfortable. What bow did one choose for a group of people? The most respectful? One somewhere in the middle? What if there was a nobleman in the crowd?

Fortunately, Archivist Kylpin managed to catch his eye, and did the beginnings of a bow Tobias

recognized as the one for fae nobility. Unfortunately, he'd never yet tried that one, and now he needed to attempt it with Moriyana in his arms. He mentally crossed his fingers and did his best...and Archivist Kylpin winced.

“Don't worry, Tobias-she,” Sheyanan murmured behind him as he stood up. “Archivist Kylpin was quite right. No-one expects you to know everything yet, and your staff have all been briefed.”

Briefed, yes, but who knew what they thought of it, Tobias realized, feeling a blush creep over his face. Archivist Kylpin was wonderfully expressive and helpful, but Firrne...the tree-name guard's expression was still absolutely unreadable to him, as were most of the others'. And Archivist's Kylpin's wonderfully expressive helpfulness was just now wonderfully helpfully expressing that his bow had been a total disgrace.

“Just say hello,” Sheyanan instructed him softly. “Mohira was formal, because he needs to make it clear that you are fully a member of the royalty, but your staff are here for you, and you may choose how you wish to treat them. Within reason, of course.”

Thank goodness. The whole formal letter-writing thing had been getting really old. Though – it'd've been nice if he knew what 'within reason' looked like, in this context. And he didn't want to sound like a second-year, either.

“Hello, everyone,” Tobias said finally. “I'm...” But he didn't want to actually lie. He was not truthfully at all pleased to meet them, and now he was stuck. Archivist Kylpin, he remembered. “I look forward to meeting you properly,” he managed. And couldn't think of anything more to say, no matter what his increasingly panicked mind tried.

They were staring at him, like they expected some kind of speech, or something. Wonderful. He couldn't even manage to say 'hello' properly.

He wanted to hide behind his wings, like he had in Outcast's Alley that first day, but even the memory of it made him want to cringe. That would probably be the worst reaction he could have. It was embarrassing that he even wanted to. But the best he could do was to school his expression. He couldn't for the life of him come up with anything else to say, and the silence was starting to drag.

Mohira huffed slightly behind him, sounding annoyingly amused, but then finally spoke up. “As you know, Tobias-she is unused to the normal culture and customs among the People and especially at Court. Please help him to adjust as you can and according to your separate roles, and please speak to me or to Firrneth about any problems that may arise.”

Firrneth. With a 'th', Tobias realized. And – speak to Firrneth? Apparently the fae was more than just a guard. Another one of Tobias' keepers, rather, or one of the King's lieutenants. Or both. Any problems that may arise. What would the King do, if his new Heir turned out to be cruel to his servants? Or a drunken sot? What could the man do?

By our laws, you are our heir, and our Second's only parent. Nothing we do or say can change that. However we would prefer no heir at all, to one that cares nothing for his duty to our people. You are correct, that we cannot force you to accept the job that is yours. You could take the rank, and the honor, and the money, without helping us at all, and without allowing us to teach you those things relevant to your duties. You could drive our country into the ground. We can only hope that your own sense of honor will prevent you.

When Mohira had said that, Tobias had been distracted by his own racing thoughts and the game he was playing, trying to keep his negotiating position as strong as he could. He hadn't really thought about the desperation of the Monarchs' position. He had their granddaughter, and he would inherit their kingdom, and they hadn't chosen him any more than he'd chosen them. He could abuse his servants and drain the treasury dry and at least from what Mohira had told him, they could do literally nothing about it.

Come to think of it, why had Mohira told him that? Didn't they want to keep their negotiating power, as well?

Except – they had very little left to offer him, Tobias realized. He'd already inherited anything they could give him. They couldn't even threaten him, because his running away again or, if he didn't escape, being put in jail would be as much a political disaster as anything else he could do. They needed his willing cooperation or they were sunk. As scary as Mohira seemed, Tobias really was in the stronger position, at the moment.

Not that that was actually comforting. It just allowed him to make his own decisions about how much he wanted to cooperate. Which was not a level of decision-making he was at all comfortable with. Anything he did, affected Mo, too, and the less he cooperated with the Monarchs, the less they could help him with her or anything else. If they even wanted to help him, really. Ugh.

Focus, Tobias reminded himself sharply. Panicking would not help. But he felt so young, here. The room was packed with people, many of whom were supposed to be his staff. Who the hell had thought it a good idea to give a fifteen-year-old responsibility for one person, let alone a roomful? But - Please help him to adjust as you can and according to your separate roles, and please speak to me or to Firrneth about any problems that may arise. So, he kind of wasn't responsible for them. Firrneth and the Consort were responsible for them. That was better.

But he'd already used up his time-out, Tobias realized. He couldn't flee a second time without it being blatantly obvious that that was what he was doing. “Steady,” a voice said softly behind him. To Tobias' surprise, it was a man's voice – not Sheyanan, but Mohira. “They were very carefully selected, and we brought them here to help you. You cannot cause a disaster with them.”

“Yeah,” Tobias answered just as quietly. “Just with your ambassador. Because I accidentally snubbed a schoolmate.”

“That was before we got here,” Mohira told him. “And it's easily reparable. As long as you cooperate with us, you cannot fail. We will not allow it.”

The Consort's words were condescending...and very reassuring. That was annoying. He had no desire to like Mohira.

“As Tobias-she has said,” Sheyanan spoke up then, “you will each meet his Highness personally within the next couple of days. For now, I believe you have all been shown your quarters and your duties. If you've been given no other instructions, please return to those.”

Just like that, the room full of people bowed, and melted away, and Tobias was left with his increasingly squirmy daughter, the two monarchs, and a small fraction of the guards. To Tobias' surprise, Firrneth was one of the ones to stay, and he came to the front of the room as the rest left, bowing deeply to Tobias and the two monarchs when he stopped before them.

“You wished to speak to me, your Majesty?” he asked Mohira.

“I wish for you to meet Tobias first,” Mohira answered him, “as you will be the most directly responsible for him.” Firrneth merely nodded, and Mohira turned to Tobias. “Firrneth will be responsible for your schooling and your staff,” he explained, “as well as for your overall welfare. Where you go, he goes, and your staff will answer to him so that you are freed up to concentrate on Moriyana and on your schooling.”

But Tobias pretty much only heard the one phrase. Wherever you go, he goes. Did that mean what he thought it meant?

“Wherever I go?” he asked.

“Everywhere,” Mohira told him. “He has orders to give you as much privacy as possible without ever leaving your side. If you do not allow him time and opportunity to eat and sleep, he will do neither.”

That was worse than he thought. Tobias felt his eyes widen, and he stared between Firrneth and Mohira for a moment. “You're kidding,” he said flatly. “Surely, you're joking.”

Mohira's cool, silent gaze was answer enough, and finally Tobias turned to Firrneth instead. “You agreed to this?” he asked.

“I am honored to serve his Majesty,” Firrneth answered stiffly.

Was that a yes or a no?

Whatever it was, it didn't sound friendly, and it certainly didn't invite any more questions. Tobias finally turned back to Mohira.

“Firrneth does as he is ordered,” Mohira told him before he asked.

Unbelievable. “I did not agree to this,” Tobias told him through gritted teeth.

“You have no training in deportment or diplomacy, you are under threat, and you want to stay at Hogwarts while Sheyanan and I must spend most of our time at Court,” Mohira told him. “This is the solution that allows you the most freedom possible without getting you killed or allowing you to make any mistakes with serious consequences. Firrneth will act as both guard and guide, and hopefully you will manage to eat and sleep. I am told that you have been struggling since you got here.”

That much was true, but – please take care that you allow him time and opportunity to eat and sleep. Mohira called the man 'guard and guide', but that sounded a lot more like slave to Tobias. Except Firrneth had evidently felt comfortable questioning Mohira, before...what the heck?

“Mohira is making everything sound as bad as he possibly can,” Sheyanan said, frowning at her husband. “Firrneth has served us with great loyalty for his entire adult life. He is the most elite of our guard and the most trusted of our servants. If it were not vital, we would not wish to part with him, but he is the only one that we could at once trust with your safety and with overseeing the rest of your staff.”

That was very high praise, but Firrneth did not appear to even hear it. He was completely stiff and silent – to the point that Tobias started wondering if something had pissed him off. Sheyanan never paused. “Without him, you would have to do such coordination yourself, which you do not know how to do, or with the help of a separate chief of security and staff organizer. The latter would be cumbersome, as the chief of security and staff organizer would still have to coordinate their activities.”

Tobias took a breath. Two different people, just to coordinate his other staff? But then, of course – he'd seen how many servants and guards he'd been assigned, and there was no way he could keep track of all of them on their own. And he'd completely failed to convince the Monarchs to simplify matters beyond arranging for simple enough clothing that one servant could handle both his room and his clothing, instead of two.

“Besides that,” Sheyanan continued, “it is far easier for you to interface with one guard than with three or four at a time. Firrneth will be in close enough contact with you to allow your other guards and servants to back off a little and come in close only when needed. Since he will be with you at all times, he will know your needs without you having to state them. His own body will tell him when you are hungry or tired, and he will be on hand to answer any questions you have and provide any guidance you need at the moment that you need it. He has performed the function for other royalty in the past.”

Tobias frowned, unable to come up with an argument against her. Firrneth was still completely blank-faced. I am honored to serve his Majesty. What was the man, a robot? But again, he'd questioned Mohira before – politely, but he had. Why the robotics now?

That wasn't really the issue, though. “So I need Firrneth because I need someone to manage my servants and guards,” Tobias repeated. “Because I will have so many of them that I will not be able to organize them all on my own. Or, alternatively, I could just be an ordinary student at a normal, perfectly safe school as I've been doing quite happily since I left Harlot's Inn. No servants, no guards, just me and Moriyana and the normal protections provided for any Hogwarts student.”

But Sheyanan just turned to meet his eyes, her gaze very serious. “You will have guards, Tobias-she,” she told him. “I sincerely hope that you're right, and you never need them, but you will have them.”

Her tone held no anger, only the absolute confidence that her will would prevail. For a moment, Tobias was surprised, but then he mentally shook his head. This was the queen. Somehow he'd forgotten, for a moment.

But he really didn't appreciate her dictates, queen or not, and it had already been a very long day. Whatever consequences might result just suddenly didn't seem to matter. Tobias met the queen's eyes and displayed teeth back, finally releasing the snarl that he'd been fighting since he first saw the room full of massive bodyguards.

Sheyanan merely looked surprised – and not at all intimidated – but a much deeper growl seemed to take over the whole room, and Tobias felt himself instinctually freeze, not even looking to see where the sound had come from. Tobias' growl was deep and loud enough that it occasionally surprised him to hear it come out of his own chest – and it had certainly impressed Umbridge - but Mohira's was so low it vibrated Tobias' ribcage. His own growls suddenly sounded like a cub snarling at the head of his pride – not smart.

The sound demanded instant, cowed compliance, but Tobias didn't care. Forcing himself to move, he transferred his snarl from Sheyanan to Mohira, and let it grow, daring the Consort to do whatever he was going to.

There was a soft snort from the direction of his new guard, but Tobias didn't turn his head to see, far too focussed on Mohira. But Mohira had evidently heard the soft sound as well, because his snarl stopped abruptly, and was replaced by an incredulous smile. “Do you actually intend to fight me, Tobias-she?” he asked. For once, he actually didn't sound mocking – just genuinely amused. Like Tobias was a kitten with his hair all spiked – cute as hell, and not at all intimidating.

“Your Heir, your Majesty,” Firrneth commented. It sounded like he was introducing them.

“Do be quiet, Firrneth,” Mohira instructed him coolly.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Firrneth answered. But his subdued tone did nothing to hide his good humor. What, exactly, was so funny? Tobias' snarls had died off in confusion, by this point. The reaction was so far from what he'd expected that the snarls felt as ridiculous as Mohira evidently took them to be. But the monarchs didn't rub it in – and at Tobias' best guess, it was Mohira who was the butt of the joke.

“He's right, though,” Sheyanan told Mohira. “Do you remember-?”

“Yes, yes,” Mohira cut her off. “Thank you, yes.”

By now, Tobias had lost all track of the conversation, but Sheyanan spoke up next, her tone rich with amusement.

“Oh, but Mohira-she,” she said, “it is terribly rude to refer to such a story without explaining it to Tobias.”

“Yes,” Mohira told her shortly, his own tone nonetheless betraying a certain humor. “Clearly you should not have brought it up. Allow me to apologize for my wife, Tobias-she. We will change the subject immediately.”

Huh? Tobias just looked at him, still dazed by the abrupt change in tone. What...wasn't the Consort angry? He'd been working himself up for a fight – one he'd almost certainly have lost – and then...huh?

“No, no we won't,” Sheyanan returned, her smile broadening, “We'll just have to explain. We are amused, Tobias-she, because you remind us all of a much younger Mohira. Firrneth was his guard and companion in those days, while Mohira was at the palace courting me. One night my Father caught Mohira and I out in the garden in the middle of the night, Mohira having somehow managed to give his guards the slip and come see me without a chaperone. Father was furious, and Mohira was roughly your age and had a temper much like yours. Mohira decided that he was going to defend me, and my Father was having none of it. Poor Firrneth by now had caught up, but he was much less experienced, then, and hadn't a clue what to do. My Father had been the one to assign him, but he'd assigned him to protect Mohira and Mohira was about to get his arse kicked. Worse, he was already in hot water because Mohira shouldn't have been able to lose him.”

Here she paused, but Tobias was caught up in the story despite himself. “What happened?” he pressed.

“Like Sheyanan said,” Mohira answered frankly. “I got my arse kicked. And Firrneth had one hell of a tongue-lashing that I got to listen in on because I'd deliberately made his job harder. Sheyanan had a job convincing Talmur – that's her father, you'll meet him later – not to dismiss him outright and send me home. I didn't get to see Sheyanan again for months. And I didn't cross King Talmur again until I was much older.”

And there was the moral of the story, Tobias figured. Nice of them to be subtle about it. Not.

But apparently Mohira wasn't trying to be subtle. “You are fifteen years old, Tobias-she,” he told Tobias bluntly. “That is very young for the fae. Argue with us if you are going to, but do not threaten my wife or challenge me to a fight that you know very well you cannot win.”

“What would you do?” Tobias asked him, curious.

“That would depend,” Mohira told him. “This time, you backed down on your own. If you didn't?”

Tobias nodded hesitantly, and Mohira smiled, bearing teeth. “Well, then you'd get your arse kicked,” he said.

Tobias bared teeth in response, but it was a similar expression to Mohira's – more good humor in it than any actual aggression. He was among friends, here, somehow. It reminded him of living on Outcast's Alley, in Harlot's Inn. He'd snarled at Bighana, she'd snarled back, and there'd been no question of who would've won. That time had been a joke, whereas this time he'd meant it, but – he'd snarled at Mohira, and Mohira had very kindly not beaten the snot out of him. He should've been angry, but – this was the People world. It was nice to feel at home, again.

“Do you have any further questions, Tobias-she?” Mohira asked him. Despite his earlier good humor, there was something intimidating about his gaze – something that demanded acknowledgment.

Unfortunately, Tobias really didn't have a choice but to push him further and hope he survived it – from squirming and talkative, Moriyana was now getting increasingly fussy, and while Tobias hoped the Monarchs couldn't tell, she needed a diaper change ASAP.

“Yes,” Tobias answered the king. “May I go? I need to take care of Moriyana.” And if they suggested he hand her off to someone else...

But - “Have you eaten, Tobias-she?” Sheyanan asked him softly.

Oh, for - “No,” Tobias answered her shortly. Of course he hadn't. When, exactly, did she think he would have? And how, exactly, did she think he was going to get a chance now? If he kept Moriyana up any further, she was going to be screaming instead of fussing.

“I'll see to it, your Majesty,” Firrneth said quietly.

Which at that moment, somehow, was even more annoying.

“Thank you, Firrneth,” Mohira answered. “Go ahead, Tobias-she. We'll try to leave you alone for a couple of hours.”

“Thank you,” Tobias said stiffly. Giving a shallow rendition of his bow to superiors – only the second time he'd tried it – Tobias turned to leave. One of the guards opened the door ahead of him and two of them proceeded him through it. Sighing, Tobias followed them, hearing Firnneth and two other guards follow.