Chapter 89: Almost To Drakemire.
The clang of metal gates faded behind them as Ethan and his team followed Selene’s unit across the sunlit courtyard.
The fortress loomed in their wake, its white stone walls stark against a brilliant blue sky, banners snapping sharply overhead.
Outside, the knight stables bustled with squires preparing mounts for departure.
Horses pawed the ground, tossing their manes, while stablehands hustled about with bridles, saddle oil, and feed buckets.
The air smelled of hay, oiled leather, and the earthy musk of animals shifting restlessly in their stalls.
Selene conferred briefly with a stablehand, her silver hair catching the sun like spun metal. The young man dashed off and returned leading a series of sleek warhorses.
Each was a magnificent creature—broad-chested, muscular, and clad in light barding embossed with the sigil of the Swordmaster.
Reyna whistled appreciatively. "Look at these beauties. Bet one kick could knock a troll’s teeth out."
Liora arched a brow and sniffed the air delicately. "They smell... rustic."
Daniel reached out to pat one horse’s neck, then pulled his hand back quickly as it snorted and rolled its eyes. "And murderous."
Ethan couldn’t help a short laugh. "They’re horses, Daniel. Not ogres."
"Same thing when they step on your foot," Daniel grumbled, flexing his fingers as if remembering a traumatic stable incident.