A female guard beside the vulgar man scrunched her face.
She was younger than him, sharper, her armor better fitted, her sword more ornate. She looked at him like he was something she had stepped in.
"How could you say that out loud?" she hissed. Her voice was low, meant for him alone. But the tunnels carried sound. The stone did not absorb. It reflected. Every whisper bounced off the walls and echoed in the ears of anyone who was listening.
The female guard leaned closer to the vulgar one. "Lack of hope reduces mana output. You know this. Everyone knows this. If you tell them what is going to happen to them, they stop hoping. And if they stop hoping, their mana dries up. And if their mana dries up, they are useless for the rituals."
The vulgar man shrugged. "They are already useless."
"They are not, not yet. But they will be if you keep talking."
