Sitting there, flanked by two more of the red-robed guards, was a man who could only be Hetton himself. He was small in stature, and older than she had suspected; he looked to be in his late fifties. She had expected him to be garbed in the colors of his house, but instead he wore black pants, a black shirt, black boots, and black gloves. Crimson striping trimmed the tops of his boots and the cuffs of his gloves. A hooded cape, also black with crimson trim, was draped across his shoulders, though the hood was thrown back to reveal his face. He had fine gray hair, cropped very short. He had a
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