Alpheo felt the iron grip of the guards clamp down on his arms, their hands rough and unyielding as they dragged him through the dimly lit corridor. The cold stone walls of the keep seemed to close in around him, the rhythmic clatter of boots echoing ominously in the silence. Despite the tension building in his chest, his eyes darted around, keen and calculating, taking in every detail, every weakness in the structure.
The keep was far too quiet. His mind quickly noted the unsettling absence of soldiers. Thirty, perhaps forty guards inside at most. His forces, waiting just beyond the gates, would be more than enough to overwhelm them if things took a turn. A storm, he mused inwardly, could have been so easy ...fuck.
