Sir Veldom arrived at the city gates with pompous strides, trailed by richly dressed attendants and two lines of armed guards.
His long cloak billowed behind him, and his chest was puffed out with the arrogance of a man who had ruled without consequence for too long.
He looked over at Kyle, who stood calmly beside his carriage, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the door.
Sir Veldom's gaze swept over the slender, pale noble with faint recognition—then promptly dismissed him.
"Hmph. You must be the cause of all this fuss. But I don't recall inviting you here, boy. Who are you, and what do you want from me?"
He muttered, raising an eyebrow as he strutted forward.
Bruce's brow twitched. Melissa's fingers hovered near her sword.
Neither liked the tone, and even less the fact that this bloated merchant dared look down on their young master.
Bruce took a single step forward, glaring at the guards surrounding Sir Veldom.
