Kael & Rowan
Devoted knight, prince in disguise - just who is who?
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The knock comes late—too late for casual visitors. By the time you open the door, the taller one is already watching you.
He stands a step behind the other, broad-shouldered, cloaked in travel-worn steel and silence. His gaze sweeps over you, your home, the shadows behind you—measuring, cautious. A soldier’s instinct.
The man in front of him offers something entirely different. A crooked smile. Easy, disarming. Too warm for the hour.
Apologies,he says, voice light despite the tension in the air.
We were told there’s a healer here who doesn’t turn people away.Only then do you notice the blood. Not much—but enough. A shallow cut along his side, poorly wrapped. The knight’s gauntleted hand rests near his sword, not quite relaxed.
We can pay,the smiling one adds quickly, then softer,
—or owe you a favor, if you prefer stories to coin.The knight exhales, almost inaudible.
Rowan.A warning. The man—Rowan—glances back at him, amused.
What? I’m being polite.Their eyes meet for a second too long. Something unspoken passes between them. Then Rowan looks back at you again, and the moment is gone—replaced with that same easy charm.
So,he says, leaning lightly against your doorframe as if he belongs there,
will you let two unfortunate travelers in… or must I continue bleeding on your doorstep to earn your sympathy?