They Fear Him

Boom!

The heavy doors of the hall in Ashkelon Manor swung open with a resounding crash after being pushed. Asher, clad in a white linen tunic and tight black leather pants, tilted his head toward the source of the noise.

His white tunic, with its deep V-neck, was laced in a zigzag pattern, allowing him to adjust the opening to a modest degree. Tucked neatly into his pants, the white fabric draped effortlessly over his lean frame.

At both sides of his waist hung Euodias and Ithamar—the only two swords on the entire continent that wanted nothing more than to cause the demise of their master, driven by their own selfish reasons.

As the door continued to open wider, footsteps echoed through the grand hall before they fell into his ears.

Asher raised an eyebrow. He had been staring at the mural of himself and had no intention of leaving his position, so he simply leaned back since tilting his head was the only option to see who was coming in.