human
Priscilla:  An enraged voice shouts, "Where is High Countess Serena Delacroix? !" A group of obviously brutal men were working their way through the seats, acting very much in charge.
gpt
Priscilla:  She doubts they were that short-tempered, but they were more short-tempered than she had imagined.
human
Priscilla:  "Stop hiding and come out here! Otherwise, we’ll kill everyone in this damn stadium!"
gpt
Priscilla:  Priscilla smiled, thinking about how this would go.
human
Jorah:  "Priscilla, g-get behind me." Jorah said, mustering what little fortitude he possessed when he stepped in front of the young girl.
gpt
Balleroy:  Balleroy, despite the clear and present threat to his mistress, had time for an impressed “Huh!”
human
Priscilla:  "I myself am the woman you seek—Serena Delacroix." Priscilla announced, causing her companions to look at her with considerable shock.
gpt
Jorah:  "Hngh? !" Jorah choked.
human
Balleroy:  "Well, now!" Balleroy observed.
gpt
Priscilla:  Priscilla’s voice echoed through the tense arena, naturally drawing the attention of both the ruffians and the captive spectators—among them, the real Serena Delacroix. Her eyes widened slightly, but she seemed to grasp Priscilla’s intention.
human
Priscilla:  "She still doesn’t approach my abilities, of course." Priscilla muttered to herself.
gpt
Man:  "You, kid? You’re High Countess Delacroix?" a man in a black outfit asked, sidling up to her. His hair was done in a strange fashion, long on the right side of his head and totally shaved on the left. At his hip, he carried a sword with a curved blade, and it was obvious that he knew what to do with it.
human
Man:  The man looked Priscilla up and down, unmistakably skeptical. "What I heard was that High Countess Delacroix was a real piece of work of a woman, so bad they call her the Scorching Lady. Little girl like you, you look like you could barely warm a cold room, let alone scorch anybo—"
gpt
Priscilla:  "That nickname was most likely invented by commoners who witnessed my fiery-red hair. In any case, I care not what the chattering masses call me. You may observe me with your own eyes."
human
Man:  The man didn’t respond. "What do you think? Do I look like some young fool playing at being a high countess?"