Third Person POV
Archer Gray tried to keep his breathing steady as he stood before Ironfang. The dimly lit chamber was suffocating, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and something more metallic—blood, perhaps.
His palms were damp, but he refused to let his nerves show. He had dealt with dangerous men before, criminals and rogues who commanded fear. But Ironfang was something else entirely.
Seated across from him, the Northern warlord radiated quiet menace. His dark eyes held no warmth, only an unspoken promise of violence. It didn’t match his appearance at all.
He was dressed in a well tailored three piece suit and his dark hair was carefully slicked back. He was a handsome, older man with a grim expression that was the only hint about who he really was.
Leg
