Kael stepped past him, but the irritation in his chest itched out through his mouth anyway.
"Why ask me why I came late when there were others here…"
The guard's expression hardened like a door being locked.
"Stop being a smartass and go." The guard said.
Kael didn't push it. He'd spent a year under a master who punished backtalk with bruises that lasted days. A guard's attitude didn't even register as a threat. It was just noise. He wasn't afraid of him, nor would he ever do. But it was still irritating.
Kael didn't bother with the man anymore and walked in.
The hall was long, stone-paved, and looked more like a large prison than a fortress.
The air inside was colder than outside, not from the weather but from the way the stone held chill. Torches lined the corridor in pairs, casting long shadows across the floor. The walls had marks too, old scratches, gouges, dents, signs that people had gotten angry here before. Or desperate. Or both.
