"Ow, ow ow!" Bordeaux cursed as he was transported by the Masked Legion from out of the underground dungeon and into the carriage. "Can't you all carry me a little gentler?"
The Lost didn't respond to him and simply fulfilled the orders of Lucius.
Bordeaux narrowed his eyes at them. He could notice that there was something wrong with these mercenaries, he just couldn't put his finger on it so he chose to rattle them with conversation.
"Hah. It feels like I'm talking to someone dead. What's up with the helmets? Actually, which one of you hit me in the head earlier? I'd want to return the favor. It's three against one poor man. What do you say? Eh? No takers?"