The moon hung high over the roof of the stone cottage nestled just past the mountain's lower ridges. Soft candlelight glowed from the slitted windows, casting long shadows into the quiet night. The air was brisk, sweetened by pine and wet earth, as two armored men moved through the yard just outside.
The sun was just a whisper beneath the horizon, its golden blush casting long shadows over the cragged hills surrounding Sebastian's secluded retreat. It was quiet here—too quiet for the men who'd been bred for battle and bred again by loyalty.
Knight Jaefel adjusted the straps of his armor with slow, deliberate hands, his breath visible in the chilly morning air. Across from him, Samion swung his sword in wide arcs, his footwork sharp despite the dirt terrain. The soft whoosh of steel slicing through wind echoed between the trees, like a hymn to war and honor.
