The Brehyrion of the Brigantes, at long last, has joined the hunt...

Stepping down from his wicker chariot, he cracks his knuckles once, and proceeds over to the registration table, whereupon he sees his good friend, Voluptua...

Cead mil Failte, friend Voluptua...am I too late?

Voluptua shakes her head in the negative, winks at the mountainous Brigante, and bids him make his mark...which he does.

Culann starts to set out into the Royal Preserve, no weapons, no chariot, no porter...a Babylonian gentleman grabs his arm...

Strange one! Where are your spears? Do you not have any?

I have no need, comes the Brehyrion's reply.

Well, you are riding in your chariot, are you not?

No.

Have you no servants? No porters?

The Brehyrion turns with agitation to the smaller, robed Babylonian man, and gently removes the Babylonian's hand from his massive shoulder. Icily, Culann glares at the man for a long second, and strides resolutely to the preserve...no weapons, no chariot, no porters...