Abasdarhon's Castle

All the while his master was talking to the guard, the demon remained silent, cautiously observing the guards' actions. Only when one of them addressed him directly did Belaroth produce his ancient, though well-preserved thanks to the bracelet, passport and deigned to introduce himself.
— My new master, — the demon nodded towards Tarleon.

The guard began to examine the passport.
- It's kind of strange. Hey Ermina, come over here.

A dark elf, with whom the legionnaire with the rifle had spoken earlier, approached them.

- Take a look at the passport.
The elf carefully examined the document.
- Wow! He's a hundred years old. I've only seen such things in museums. William Rott, a slave-demon, citizen of Axoth, how lovely.
- So, he's real?
- Yep.
- Alright, let's do this. The elf will play a game with us, and we'll let you pass.
- Just don't play Dargin's game, - the elf said with a smirk.
- I'll play a game with you later... - the legionnaire with the rifle replied with a sly smile.
- Play a game in the Rainbow with someone like you, that's where you belong, - she said and walked away from the legionnaires.
- Will you play the game, elf? - asked Tarleon, the tattooed one.

Added 3 minutes later

-- Wait a minute, -- Quint turned around and caught up with the man. -- Maybe we can be useful to each other. Who are you?

- Guroraz Aked, elder of Gruormont (a village near Axoth), and who are you?