In the labyrinth of damp stone, a man moved through the narrow, winding passageways of the underground prison like a regal shadow, his presence commanding attention even within the oppressive walls.
His black hair fell past his shoulders, streaked with a sharp contrast of white that caught the dim, flickering light from the iron lanterns.
A single red scar traced over an eye, stopping on his cheek, a mark of a past battle that had left him unchanged in his stoic demeanor.
His eyes, half-lidded with an indifference only sharpened by his inner focus, scanned the gloom ahead.
On either side of him marched two soldiers, both of whom strode alongside him with purpose and stoicism, struggling to stand up to his.
Their tailored jackets' brass buttons gleamed in the low light. A scarlet sash draped across their chests, contrasting against the polished silver of their epaulettes.
