It took time, too much time, checking each crate. Every few minutes, Keiser had to pull Tyron back, crouched low behind a stack of boxes or a draped cage, as the porters descended the stairs again. Their boots echoed against the stone floor, the clatter of wood and iron filling the undercroft as they struggled with another crate boxes.
"Shit, how come each of these are so damned heavy?" one porter spat, nearly dropping his side of the heavy load.
"Quit whining," the other grumbled, bracing his shoulder against the weight and shifting to help. "What, you'd rather be upstairs working with those hirelings?"
The first man visibly shivered, shaking his head. "No fucking way. I'll take crates over standing next to those monsters any day."
Their voices faded as they carried the cargo up toward the auction hall.
