First Blood [6]

A combination of anger and frustration washed the young Patek's face. He remained still at Loftha's side, she cast confused glances at Igna and the very influential entourage. Her lips juggled between speech and quietness – in the end, choosing the former. 

 "Step outside," she whispered.

Ziu glared; intent on getting his way. Elon had a flash of uncaringness; he rose a hand to the guards. They flocked at him and pushed metal objects against the man's muscles – the intent hit home. He lowered his head, pushed an embarrassed smile, and left; two behemoths remained at the young Patek's side. In a way to preserve what little dignity remained, murderously empty threats glared and bounced off, Elon simply ignored the call for attention. 

A visibly tense Loftha stood with arms akimbo, "-who the hell?"

 "Lord Elon, leader of the Elon Dynasty," said the charmingly dressed gentleman.

 "Lord Elon?" she observed, "-quite the change from the prior-"