The Rebellion
As the entourage approached the looming silhouette of Elassona's fortress, the nephew couldn't help but cast a disdainful glance towards Alexios, who had dismounted with an air of self-assurance. The scene before him seemed almost theatrical – stewards hurriedly rolling out a carpet upon the grass, while servants, with practiced efficiency, extracted bottles of mead from their crates, offering them to their supposed commander. Nikolaos, adopting the role of a dutiful aide, meticulously filled Alexios's glass, his movements precise and deferential.
Perfectly noble like, just as what people would expect a noble from a Steppe would be: arrogant, imbecilic, alcoholic.
Perhaps years of lives with the sheeps on the Steppe have made this Genoese man forget about his roots, thought the nephew.
Riddled with suspicions, the nephew turned his back upon the crowd of riders, and led the three men to the fortress a few hundred meters away.