The guards stationed outside the gates saw him coming.
A single figure, tearing up the fields with no attempt to slow.
One of them leaned forward, hand rising as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.
"Rider," he called, uncertainty creeping into his voice.
Gabriel didn't look up.
The horse thundered closer, hooves chewing through dirt and frost, breath flaring white in the cold air. He rode low, cloak snapped back by the wind.
The guard's shout sharpened, "Close the gate!"
The heavy timbers began to shift. Another guard raised the horn and blew, the sound short and urgent, echoing around.
Instead, he lowered himself over the horse's neck and drove it harder, boots locking in as the ground rushed beneath them. The gap was already narrowing.
At the gate, discipline snapped into place.
Spears came down in unison, points angling outward. Shields locked. Boots spread, weight dropped. The two guards braced themselves for impact.
Gabriel didn't slow.
