Axeman's Terror

Axeman.

That was the name whispered by few and feared by many. The man beneath the travel-worn hood sat hunched on the driver's bench of a battered carriage, its wheels creaking softly as it rolled through the tall, wind-swept grass plains a few miles shy of Nineveh. He looked like a simple carriage man, indistinguishable from the hundreds who traveled these roads—but that illusion was the first of many lies.

It had been a day since he'd left the shadowed streets of Nineveh. In just two more, the grand wedding at Intis would commence—a convergence of nobility, ambition, and power. His mission was clear: ensure that Duke Asher Ashbourne received the queen's invitation card before that time.

Which meant he had only today.