A second templar set down on the landing pad, its approach nearly silent. A ramp slid from its underbelly and Robert Jones stepped out. His normally unruly hair had been combed, and instead of his regular Commander's uniform, he was wearing a well cut suit made of a black material. He strode quickly to the front door, and, reaching into his suit, pulled out the invitation and presented it to the butler. The butler ushered him into the main hall. Jones' gaze flicked around the hall, subconciously picking out potential exits, defensive positions and sniper positions. He was glad to see that several were already occupied by the BAF security team. A pair of ensigns walked up to him, ready to check him for weapons. His eyes met theirs, and they instantly saluted him and backed away. He took a small glass of wine from a servant, and walked slowly towards a group of laughing nobles.
