They headed towards one of the hidden tunnels leading further, far away from the palace, only known to the Archon. Ten minutes and three heavy locked doors later, they finally entered a small, unassuming house, no different than any others around it. Outside, an outwardly modest palanquin was waiting for them, with eight slaves to carry it, flanked by four unsullied on each side. The insides were, however, lined with gold and velvet, and as soon as the brothers sat inside, the slaves picked the palanquin up and began moving. Arvaad sighed; it was too hot even inside - the noon summer sun was relentless. Ah, only a dozen minutes and would be back home in his manse, resting under a shade with his slaves, chasing the heat away with a fan.