Junius accepts the hand up, and rises. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and in short order you find yourself before the large tent of the Praetor. Raised voices can be heard inside. Junius places a hand against your chest. "Give me a moment..." and he moves past the guards and enters the tent.
The voices within quiet, but you hear the stern voice of the Praetor, likely barking at Junius. There is an exchange, and the tent flap opens and some other man in roman garb glances around, spots you, and waves you forward.
The guards stand aside as you move past them, and you enter the brightly lit main room of the Praetor's tent. Half a dozen knights in roman gear look scornfully at you as you stand before the Praetor. He is standing at the head of a table covered in wax tablets and parchments. He does not look pleased. This is in stark contrast to the mood in the rest of the camp, which was much more celebratory.
He speaks, and his tone is forbidding - measured and tense. "Sir Cedwyn of the barbarians. You are not among those we wished to see this evening. Yet Centurion Junius wagers what little is left of his honour that what you have to say shall be worth my attention. He tests my patience greatly - I had commanded him from my presence until called for. So, for his sake, I trust you have information of profound value. I am greatly vexed this evening, and have little patience for your flattery, southern prattle or dissembling. Be forthright, speak plainly, and come directly to the point."
