After they headed inside, Javier glanced around the manor. His eyes traced the walls where faint outlines and lighter patches of paint suggested paintings or decorations had once hung, now likely sold to pay salaries or keep the estate running.
He glanced around again.
He noticed the maids and manor staff moving quietly, their expressions weary, their postures lacking the lively spirit of a thriving household.
I wonder how I can persuade him to accept the aid. The terms are fair, more than fair. But pride and fear of Kimar's wrath might blind him to the lifeline we're offering.
Not only that… their guards' equipment is in barely serviceable condition. Dented breastplates, worn leather, blades that look like they haven't been properly sharpened in months. They're not just outnumbered, they're outmatched in every way.
"This way, Your Highness." Cliff gestured toward a heavy oak door.
Javier nodded and watched as Cliff slowly opened the door and stepped inside.
