The Major was sitting in one of the lounge's couches with his arms stretched out to his sides. He had a wide smile on his lips. For once, everything had gone according to plan. A great struggle was looming over the horizons. He could hardly wait for it. This was, to him, the calm before the storm. A British merchant, as if recognizing the Major, walked over to him with a glass in his hand.

Bespectacled, fat, and mustached, the man spoke in a bored tone, "Excuse me, but I couldn't help but wonder. You're the man that entered Britain under the pretense of killing a runaway Riftspawn."

"Why, yes," the Major answered, "That would be correct. We of Millennium are the finest in the Landside Riftguards, you see."

"Uhuh. Business took me to Camelot for a while and I heard that there was another Riftspawn that entered the castle. She was dealt with by our Queen, but... what's this about a Riftspawn at the university?"

"The one we were pursuing was dispatched in the university... But another Riftspawn in Camelot? I wonder how another one of them slipped away! We really are getting far too careless for our own good."

The merchant's brow twitched.

"How can you say that so nonchalantly?"

"Mistakes are made, friend. No need to get so upset."

"It's a pretty damn big mistake if you ask me. Just who the hell do you think you are!?"

The Major laughs a little. "If you really what to know who it is that I am, you only had to ask. Let me tell you, Herr Merchant..." The Major stands up and clears his throat.