The long queue squirmed forward slowly. Everyone passing through the checkpoint was meticulously searched, Fuller included.
A sergeant holding a long halberd scrutinized Fuller with a gaze reserved for criminals. Two soldiers approached Fuller, gesturing for him to spread his arms.
Feeling uncomfortable under such scrutiny, Fuller turned his head toward the Rose River.
In the middle of the river, a group of militia, led by someone who looked like a soldier, were cautiously fishing debris off the ice.
The wheel-lock pistol Fuller carried was quickly discovered—of course, he hadn't planned to conceal it anyway.
The halberd-holding sergeant took the pistol from one of his men, frowned, and asked in a hostile tone, "What's this for?"
"Self-defense," Fuller answered quietly.
The sergeant inspected the gun chamber and powder pan, finding neither bullets nor gunpowder. "Empty?"
Fuller felt slightly embarrassed. "It's just for scaring people."
