The carriage thundered forward, cutting through the dry dirt road and leaving a plume of brown dust in its wake. Lucas sat on the hard wooden seat, his back straight, eyes fixed forward with a gleam that was hard to read. Beside him, Silvara remained alert, her fingers occasionally brushing her waist to make sure her dagger was still in place, even though Liona had assured them that the common folk there were eagerly awaiting the depraved man sitting next to her.
As the main gate of Voss Manor came into view on the horizon, a low, restless noise began to reach their ears.
When the carriage slowed before the gate, the sight that greeted them was nothing short of astonishing. Dozens, perhaps nearly a hundred commoners had gathered. They pressed against the sturdy iron fence, their faces tense yet full of hope. The atmosphere reminded Lucas of crowds waiting for a flash sale with fifty-percent discounts, full of jostling elbows and wild eyes searching for an opening.
