The Hidden Blade
Beneath the faint bloody moonlight, Silvan stood at the Southern Gates, his tall frame rigid and poised like a man carved from stone.
A legion of Crimson Army remained in perfect formation behind him, their armor glinting in the flickering torchlight, unaware of the shadows pooling in Silvan's expression.
His dark red gaze shifted toward a handful of lords gathered near the barracks. They weren't speaking, yet their eyes held the weight of a secret unspoken.
Silvan gave the faintest nod. The lords exchanged a similar, silent gesture before slipping away, their movements swift and measured, shadows swallowing them as they vanished into the darkness.
Silvan, his face unreadable, turned on his heel, his dark cape whispering against the stones as he left his post. The murmurs of his soldiers faded behind him, blending into the dead quiet of the night.