Lord Assquat.
A hopelessly fat man with a receding blond hairline and dull blue eyes.
His body was so round that he waddled with each step and gasped after a few metres. Leonhardt frowned at the man's gaudy clothes. He wore too much gold thread and used precious silk from the southern desert.
"Vasha, you look as beautiful as the Cariban Desert." His horrible voice was enough to make Leonhardt's ears bleed.
Hard to describe, like a male cat's mating call mixed with a pig's snort.
It might be half charming if Leonhardt didn't hear the aide beside him whispering the lines a moment before, a lanky male with messy brown hair and a perverted gaze directed at Vasha.
"L-Lord Assquat, what brings you to our humble stall?" Vasha's lips trembled; she pulled her clothes tightly, as if hoping to hide from him.
The fat man stepped closer and smiled. "Oh, well I was on my way to inspect the new merchants coming to our town this week when I heard a rather pleasant conversation."
"I see."
