As I approached the gates of the town, I slowed my pace, taking in the sight ahead.

The town loomed over me, its walls towering and imposing, with thick iron-reinforced gates standing as a clear message to anyone thinking of causing trouble.

The air felt thick, not just from the late afternoon heat, but from something more—a tension that seemed to hang over the place like a storm cloud.

My mind raced as I considered what lay ahead.

The wound on my abdomen pulsed with pain, and a constant, nagging reminder of just how vulnerable I was right now. The fresh cut on my right side stung each time my rags brushed against it.

I couldn't afford to draw attention, not with this fresh injury.

The gates felt like a threshold, a point of no return.

Beyond them was a town under the influence of the Ironbrand Guild—a name that carried a heavy weight of in my mind, after the recent encounter.

I stopped a few paces from the gate, taking a moment to observe the guards.

They stood rigid. Their eyes scanned the area with a level of suspicion that set my nerves on edge.

Each wore armor that gleamed in the dull light, and emblazoned on their chests was the unmistakable insignia of the Ironbrand Guild—a black iron fist gripping a red chain.

The image alone was enough to inform me of the power and ruthlessness the guild might wield in this place.

These weren't just any gatekeepers. They were enforcers, agents of control who would notice the smallest sign of trouble.

My heart pounded as I gauged their behavior, trying to predict how they might react if they saw something they didn't like.

Every step forward felt like a gamble, each one bringing me closer to an encounter I wasn't sure I could walk away from unscathed.

I forced myself forward. The guards noticed instantly. Their eyes narrowed as they sized me up.

I moved carefully, trying to blend in, but their scrutiny pressed down on me with every step.

As I approached, one of the guards shifted his stance with his hand resting near the hilt of his sword, his gaze flicking from my ragged clothing to the blade at my side.

I could almost see the question in his eyes—was I a peasant who somehow got his hands on a weapon, or an adventurer who'd had a bad day?

I met his gaze for a brief moment before lowering my eyes, being careful not to seem too confrontational.

My mind raced, rehearsing the answers I would give to whatever questions they might throw my way.

I knew I had to play this right; one wrong word, one slip, and this could turn bad fast.

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The tension was thick, each second stretching as I closed the distance.

I could sense the guards assessing me, trying to determine if I was a threat. I had to make sure they saw nothing but a harmless traveler, just passing through.

A traveler with a blade, yes.

But a harmless traveler nonetheless.

The moment I reached the gates, the questions started.

"What's your business in Hallowford?" one of the guards demanded, his tone was sharp and filled with suspicion. I kept my expression neutral, offering a slight nod before replying.

"Just passing through," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Looking for a place to rest and maybe find some work."

The guard's eyes narrowed, clearly unsatisfied with my vague answer. "Where are you coming from?" he asked, his gaze searching my face for any sign of deceit.

I hesitated just a fraction of a second—long enough to seem thoughtful, but not enough to raise alarm.

"A small village to the east," I lied smoothly, "Barely worth mentioning. Just needed a change of scenery."

The guard's scrutiny sharpened, and I could feel sweat beading on my brow, though I forced myself to stay calm.

His questions were unyielding, probing for any crack in my story I stuck to my responses, careful not to reveal more than necessary.

Each word felt like it was walking a tightrope, with the wrong move sending me into a dangerous fall.

As the questioning continued, I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen—a reminder of the wound I was trying to ignore.

I adjusted my stance slightly, hoping to ease the discomfort, but the movement caught the attention of one of the guards.

His eyes flicked down, and I saw his gaze lock onto the spot where a small stain of red had appeared on my rags.

His expression changed instantly, suspicion turning into something more dangerous. "You're injured," he stated sharply.

The other guard's attention snapped to the same spot, both of them now eyeing me with a mix of curiosity and distrust.

"It's nothing," I tried to brush it off, forcing a weak smile. "Just a scratch I picked up on the road."

The first guard wasn't convinced. He stepped closer. His hand was now fully on the hilt of his sword. "A scratch, huh? From what? A blade? A beast? Or maybe a fight you don't want us knowing about?"

I held his gaze, trying to project calm even as my heart pounded in my chest. "A wild animal. I didn't realize how close I was to its territory. I'm lucky to be standing here at all."

The second guard frowned, still not entirely convinced. "And you just wandered here, bleeding, without seeking help first?"

I shrugged slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at the wound.

"Where else could I go? Hallowford's the only place I knew. Besides, it didn't seem bad enough to stop for. I figured I'd find a healer in town. I've been on the road a while—just want a place to rest."

The guards weren't fully convinced, but they seemed to waver with their suspicion still lingering.

The first guard's grip tightened on his sword as he looked me over once more. "Wait here," he ordered. His tone made it clear that he wasn't finished with me yet.

My stomach tightened as he stepped aside, signaling the other guard to watch me closely.

Sweat trickled down my brow as I stood there.

The seconds stretched.

My mind raced, grasping for anything to diffuse the situation.

Just then, I noticed a cart rolling toward the gate, driven by an older man who seemed to be familiar with the guards.

I took a calculated risk.

"Look," I said, gesturing toward the cart, "I'm just a traveler looking to get patched up. If you need proof, ask that man. He might have seen me on the road. I've got no reason to cause trouble here."

The first guard glanced at the approaching cart, clearly considering my suggestion.

The second guard stepped forward with his eyes still locked on me. "You're on thin ice," he muttered, "but if this checks out, you can go. Step aside for now."

I nodded and moved to the side, trying to appear cooperative. The guard who had been questioning me waved down the cart, exchanging a few words with the driver.

I couldn't hear the conversation, but I could see the driver nodding, confirming whatever story the guard was asking about.

Relief began to set in—until the first guard turned back to me.

"Wait!" he called out sharply, making my blood run cold.

I froze, turning back to face him.

Every muscle in my body tensing as I braced for whatever was coming next.