The interior of the fort brought about an unnerving vibe. The halls had walls that, while initially vertical, had angular roofing to the walls - likely for stress load reasons. They were just a touch too low, causing bigger individuals to have to hunch slightly. The fort was obviously unadorned and cold, and the air had an ancient feeling to it. The stone of the fort seemed a lot different to that of the city, as if it was far older.
The processor's instruction truly would have meant nothing to the group, had he not been actively guiding them. Through the 'far left portal' excused the twists and turns he took down various hallways. He patently ignored the sellswords talking and balking the idea of having to sit still for the night, with many making plans to go out on the town and stretch out their legs. They were being led through the barracks. It was very clear, due to the cots visible through the doorless rooms on either side of them. Soon, he began up a staircase that leant to the right in a spiral. This was a very long climb. At the very end, there was a platform barely big enough to hold them all without somebody loitering on the staircase.
The processor knocked a few times on the splintered, iron banded door. "Legate Cassium, sir. We've received two nobility who wish to make their acquaintance."
A long pause. "Let them in, Ventric. Thank you."
The processor opened the door and let it swing open, waiting for the party to enter.
"I hope you don't mind standing, there's only two chairs," said the processor, more toward the 'bodyguards.'
The first thing that could be said about this room is that it was freezing. Colder than even the stone of the fort. It was lined on all sides at compass angles by embrasures, that let the wind in easily. It had a rug, and bookshelves lined actual walls. There was a desk in the far third of the room, and two comfortably overstuffed olive easy chairs in front of it.
The Legate himself was unadorned, in a coolly colored iron full Lorica. He was also wrapped in a fox fur cloak, and he seemed to have just been writing on a weighted down piece of parchment. He stood, in politeness, revealing the hilt of a sword. It had a small ruby at the very base. He was balding, older, but had eyes of a hawk.
"Welcome, welcome. It's not every day we receive nobility to assist in the lead of our merry band of paid misfits. Now... You, must be Lady Zifu. I was told to expect you, about a week from now. You're making good time."