The fort loomed ahead, its rough-hewn stone walls darkened by age and the stains of a long winter.
Kyle approached at a steady pace, his boots crunching against the gravel path that led to the heavy iron gates.
The air was tense; the guards lining the battlements gripped their spears tighter, eyes darting between him and the narrow entrance they were sworn to defend.
"He's the one. That's Kyle Armstrong."
One of the guards muttered from above, his voice low but audible in the crisp air.
Another spat to the side.
"Do we let him in… or do we put him down before he reaches the gate?"
Kyle didn't slow, his expression unreadable, though his eyes were sharp. Every step was calculated, his presence alone enough to make a few hands tremble on spear shafts.
A third guard shifted uneasily.
"If we attack and fail, the retaliation will be worse. But if we let him in…"
Before they could reach a decision, movement stirred behind them.
