Tap!
Tap!!
Tap!!!
Doran sat in his dimly lit study, the air thick with tension. The fire in the hearth crackled softly casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. His fingers drummed impatiently on the wooden table as he awaited word from his henchmen. The plan had been simple-eliminate Kaelen and his companions swiftly and silently. Yet, the silence stretched on, and his nerves grew more agitated by the minute.
Crrrrr!
A creak at the door broke the stillness, and one of his henchmen entered, his face pale and his steps hesitant. Doran's sharp eyes locked onto the man, sensing the bad news before a word was spoken.
"Well?" Doran demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
The henchmen swallowed hard, standing rigidly at attention. "My Lord, Kaelen and his group... They've fled the town."
Doran's expression darkened instantly, his fists clenching on the table. "Fled? How? You were supposed to take care of them tonight!"
