Reiner stood frozen, just a few steps from Regan. The dim torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting long, warped shadows of the two men facing off.
Void stayed silent in the middle, Regan's blade still grazing his neck. No panic in his face, just sharp, calculating eyes, tracking every twitch from the Earl of Urioil.
The orc commander grinned. Not just a smirk, his mouth stretched so wide it nearly touched his eyes. Too wide to be anything but a threat. He looked like he was savoring the moment, like Void's neck meant nothing to him. Just another trophy for a brute who'd built his name on blood.
Reiner slowly raised his sword, eyes locked on Regan. "Let him go," he said flatly, voice steady as stone.
Regan turned his head just enough to size Reiner up, from his tousled hair to the scuffed boots. His grin curled higher, twisted by the torchlight dancing in the breeze.
"You've got guts, kid," Regan said, voice low and amused. If anything, he was enjoying this.
