The commander stood up to meet Dylan, then walked over to the edge of the room, picking up Dylan's sword. He unsheathed it slowly, the metal gleaming in the dim light. Dylan felt a surge of unease but said nothing, aware that the border was heavily garrisoned with over a thousand soldiers always on standby in case of a beast people attack.
The commander's eyes appraised the weapon with admiration. "Such a fine weapon," he remarked, running his finger along the edge. Instantly, a small cut appeared, and he put his finger in his mouth, licking the blood. His gaze shifted to Dylan, now sharp and probing.
