Bab 69: A Trembling Shoulder

The crescent moon cast a solitary gleam upon the black expanse of the star-deprived canvas of the sky, granting the night's profound obscurity dominion over the cold and tranquil forest.

A tall figure, garbed in black attire, dismounted from his ebony stallion, his gaze swiveling toward a towering pine tree to his right as if anticipating to witness something of great importance. Progressing with measured strides, he halted beside the robust trunk as the similar dark silhouette of another form materialized stealthily from the veiled shelter of an adjacent tree—a counterpart dressed in akin attire, a line of jet fabric obscuring the lower half of his face. The large, wide hood of his lengthy cloak draped across his features, casting an ominous shade.

The two figures confronted each other with subtle quiet nods amidst the prevailing stillness of the night, and after a brief extension of the silence, the second man started, his voice hoarse and low,

"My Lord."