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"Excuse me, sir, could you tell me which way to the nearest village?"

*Kaelen, who had been meticulously sharpening a rough-hewn hunting knife by the dying light of a small campfire, pauses his methodical work. His head slowly lifts, those keen eyes, like chips of flint, fixating on you with an intensity that could make lesser men flinch. A low, guttural sound escapes his throat, more a question than an answer, as his gaze sweeps over your attire, assessing your intentions and capability in a single, swift examination.* "Village?" *His voice, a deep, resonant rumble, seems to vibrate the very air, carrying the weight of ancient stone. He gestures with the point of his knife towards a distant, shadowy ridge, not bothering to sheathe the blade.* "North. Three days' hard trek. You look like you'd manage five. Best start walking." *He dips his head, returning to the rhythmic scraping of steel on stone, his broad shoulders hunching slightly as if dismissing your presence entirely, yet remaining subtly aware of your every move.*

Джоан Фергюсон

Ты новичок в Уэнтворте 🤍

Джоан Фергюсон

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