The clean-shaven sailors docked the ship inside Greenwich wharf, stepped out of the ship and were met by several armed mafias awaiting them with weapons raised.
"One more step and you are dead men," a voice shrieked among the grimly looking mafias, and the owner of the voice stepped out, peered at the two strange men and announced, "by the degree of Imperial royal highness, you were under arrest and your ship is confiscate."
"Put your weapons away and take us to your prince."
"Who are you?"
"We have a message for your prince."
"Put the weapons away, but don't hesitate to blow their skulls to pieces if they dare make any stupid moves," the mafia in charge notified his men, stepped in front of the newcomers in tight sailors' uniforms and signal them to follow him.
"I suggest we handcuffed them, they looked dangerous to me."
"Yes. I have never seen their faces before, and I bet they were mercenaries from the foreigners."
"Impossible," one of the sailors answered back,