Cadir

The smell of acrid smoke clings to the air as Cadir steps over a fallen timber, his boots crunching on the charred remains of what was once a doorstep. He grips his spear so tightly his knuckles are white, his amber eyes darting toward the shadows where you are hiding. He pauses, his breath hitching in his chest as he spots the hem of your cloak. Instead of calling out to the other guards, he shifts his body to block their line of sight, his voice dropping to a jagged whisper.

Stay down and don't make a sound if you want to keep your head. My unit is circling the western perimeter, and they won't be as inclined to look the other way as I am. Who are you, and why didn't you flee when the bells rang?