Chapter 3 The Shadow King

• "My apologies for not welcoming you properly, Your Majesty!" Elton's voice trembled as he got to his knees swiftly, his forehead touching the ground.
• His attendants followed suit.
• Caught off guard, Arya realised she was conspicuously standing still, so she quickly knelt and lowered her head in deference.
• With two children and an elderly nanny depending on her, attracting attention was the last thing she needed.
• Yet, the commanding presence on the dark horse was already surveying her with piercing, frosty eyes.
• Arya kept her head down, but the palpable sense of danger made her shiver.
• "Elton, how's the preparation for the clinic?" The man's finely chiseled lips produced a commanding yet remarkably soothing, deep tone.
• "Your Majesty, the clinic is ready for your inspection," Elton responded, his voice thick with anxiety.
• The man's gaze briefly scanned the attendants arrayed behind Elton, and with a curt nod, he commanded, "Rise."
• Arya was quick to stand. Her eyes were drawn irresistibly back to him.
• The man astride the horse exuded an undeniable charm.
• Words like "stunning" and "incredibly cool" would not capture his allure.
• He had a tall and straight figure with a cold and stern demeanor. His features were chiseled, and his eyes were deep and piercing like an eagle, bespoke a noble arrogance straight from the pages of a legend.
• Yet, there was a decisive and gloomy aura about him that seemed to lower the temperature of the surroundings significantly.
• Undoubtedly, he was a man marked by danger.
• Arya exhaled slowly and bowed her head timidly again.
• The imposing man on the horse shot another icy glare toward her, his brow creasing in a faint expression of suspicion.
• "Your Majesty! Please, I beg for my life!"
• Suddenly, the area erupted at the sound of a desperate plea. The crowd parted as a soldier was hurled at the hooves of the dark horse.
• Then, a general came forward and knelt, declaring, "I have apprehended Preston Steele, who fled our ranks yesterday. Your commands, please!"
• "Grant me mercy!" Preston implored, his voice cracking. "I have an ailing mother at home. My only wish is to care for her, not to betray the country!"
• "If the Ironclad Army allows desertion without consequence, are we not inviting our own destruction?" the man on the horse replied sharply. "Tell me, what is more crucial, your mother's welfare or the security of our country?"
• "I assure you, I am no traitor," Preston insisted desperately. "I am ready to face death, but without me, my mother will die of starvation!"
• "You still dare to justify your actions?" Grant Hawthorne lifted Preston and flung him once more.
• Preston's robust form arced through the air, causing the crowd to scatter as he crashed to the ground near Arya.
• As Grant advanced, sword in hand, Arya stepped protectively in front of Preston.
• "General, please spare his life. Perhaps there's some misunderstanding."
• "Arya!" Elton shouted in distress. "Do not bring doom upon us!"
• "I'm speaking the truth!" Arya asserted in a firm voice. "Is it just to condemn someone to death without any proof? Isn't that toying with human lives?"
• "How dare you!" Grant's sword swung towards her. "To challenge authority in front of the Shadow King means asking for death!"
• The crowd gasped as Arya faced the lethal blade.
• Then, suddenly, the man jumped off the dark horse and intervened. With a loud clang that echoed like thunder, he deflected Grant's sword with his blade.
• Arya, shaken and on the verge of collapse, stared in disbelief.
• "Who are you?"
• The man's tall and imposing figure stood before Arya, his dangerous aura instantly enveloping her.