The heavy wooden door creaked open, and the servant gasped softly as she found herself staring up at a knight—tall as a tower and clad in armor that gleamed with the dull sheen of a long ride. He loomed in the doorway like a statue of war, broad-shouldered and formidable, the crest of House of Connor emblazoned across his chestplate. His shadow stretched across the stone floor like a dark omen.
She tilted her head back slowly, her breath caught in her throat as her eyes traced his height—easily over 195 centimeters. For a heartbeat, she stood frozen.
"I seek the young Duke, Sandoz," the knight said, his voice deep and resonant, like thunder rolling over distant hills.
Blinking rapidly, the servant finally found her bearings and bobbed a hasty curtsy before spinning on her heel and rushing down the corridor. Her footsteps echoed against the high ceilings as she burst into the dining hall, where the clink of cutlery halted and a dozen curious eyes turned toward her.
