Lucavion moved swiftly through the heart of the bandit camp, his footsteps barely making a sound as he closed the distance. The chaotic din of the battlefield faded into the background, his focus entirely on the target ahead. And then, as he rounded the final corner, he saw him.
Korvan stood in the center of the camp, his broad frame imposing and still amidst the chaos. He wasn't hiding, nor was he preparing to flee. Instead, he stood tall, waiting. His dark eyes locked onto Lucavion the moment he entered the clearing, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"So," Korvan said, his voice low but carrying easily across the space between them, "this is the bastard who's been cutting down my men." He crossed his arms, the muscles in his shoulders bulging under his tattered cloak, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. "I've been hearing a lot about you, stranger. Loren, Lothar, and another one. Impressive."
