Shelter from the Storm [Part-2]
"Open the gates!" the lord commanded, voice thundering over the storm. "Let them pass!"
The massive wooden doors creaked open with a sigh. Rain continued to pour down as the caravan pushed forward, wheels splashing into deep mud under the careful eyes of guard-armed men. Lanterns burst to life in the town square and wary eyes looked out from behind closed windows, attracted by the tempest—and the fabled name spoken in wonder.
From the stone steps of the town gate, a tall man stepped out. His noble attire clung wetly to a wide frame. A jagged scar creased his brow, firming his face.
"I am Lord Tharn of Willow Town," he declared, voice slicing through the rain. His eyes passed across the caravan, then narrowed and fixed on Leon's carriage.
Leon descended from his carriage, rain splashing harmlessly off the thin border of mana glowing around him. His golden eyes locked with Lord Tharn's unwavering gaze unflinchingly.
"I am," Leon replied curtly.
