As Asher rode toward the gates, the bustling activity parted, with people hastily giving way and lowering their heads in reverence.
The air was filled with a mixture of curiosity and awe as Asher's imposing presence commanded attention, his authority and power undeniable.
He gazed at the iron stronghold perched atop a corner of the mountain, its walls reflecting the sunlight.
That place was an absolute horror to all. It didn't matter your strength, once you were within those walls, the custodians were in charge.
Moments later, Asher sat cross-legged in a small room, staring at the planning table before him.
On it were several yellow and white papers, quills, dried inkwells, and some wooden miniature structures that looked similar to the ballistas, trebuchets, lifts and more machines that drew Asher's attention like a fly to a corpse.
