He felt his throat turn unbearably dry just by standing in the presence of the boy. The boy was a child, his features still soft and unrefined by age, yet the crest that shimmered faintly on his chest was enough to strike terror into the marrow of men.
It was the living proof of a bloodline that tremored the hearts of every single soul across Alaris.
Even if the Lancasters were hailed as protectors, guardians who stood as pillars of Alaris, their name carried something far greater than admiration.
They were revered because of their strength, yes, but that same strength twisted into something darker within the minds of others.
Fear.
Fear that turned even the most hardened men brittle. Fear that choked breath from lungs before blades could ever touch skin.
The Lancasters were not simply the strongest in Alaris. They were the strongest across all of Cronica. Their reputation was an iron hammer pressed into the very foundations of the world.
