A man clad in noble attire strode through the polished marble halls of one of his grand citadels, his heavy coat swaying behind him with each purposeful step.
The torches lining the corridor cast flickering shadows on the golden curls that framed his chiseled face, yet no light reached his eyes. His expression was stormy, heavy with something deeper than thought.
He halted before a towering double door, his gaze fixed on the man standing guard beside it.
Garen.
His bodyguard. The Fourth Knight in the Titled Knights Ranking. The strongest Awoken One amongst those to have pledged allegiance to him.
Clad in radiant silver armor that shimmered faintly even in dim light, Garen stood with the quiet menace of a drawn blade. A dragon-shaped brooch, forged from solid gold, fastened the thick, royal-blue cloak around his shoulders, its eyes gleaming like tiny rubies.
The moment Aaron stopped, Garen's nostrils flared subtly. "You've been drinking, My Lord," he said, voice calm but edged.
