My lord’s expression twisted with disgust behind his perfumed kerchief, “Dispose of them.”
“My lord?”
“I do not know you as a man who must hear a thing twice, Master of Arms. Dispose of this rabble and cut me a path back to the apartments. I will not accept an ignominious end waiting to be crammed into a tram with chattle while heretics slaughter their way to us. Cut them down.”
“…Yes, My lord.”
It was a small mercy that most on the tram platform fled at the sound of the sound of the first salvo.