Prompt: Just messing around with a side story in one of my longer stories and seeing what I can learn.
He donned his blue cloak with pride. As he strode through the city, he made eye contact with each person he passed. Some glared. Some looked away. Many pretended they did not notice him. It mattered not. The righteousness of the duty he performed lifted him above the low current of their disdain.
He caught a friendly eye. Another man dressed in a blue cloak nodded to him as they passed each other. It was good to see the brotherhood present in such force in this remote, heathenish city. He knew what the "people" (if they could truly be called people) who lived here called him and his brothers. But their petty mockery detered him not at all from his mission.
The mercenaries could not be allowed to lord over the two continents as they had for so long. It was time to restore power to a true king.