The sun was rapidly sinking while the wagon carried Vixon to the West Axyvur. He wasn’t alone inside the wagon, as there were three other men inside it of the same age as Vixon. The men looked very determined and eager.
Next to Vixon was a slightly muscular man at eighteen. He was 5.74 feet tall, having short black curtained hair with no facial hair, a pointed nose, warm-ivory skin, and light-green eyes. He wore a dashing fancy red tunic with a sheathed rapier on his belt. From his appearance alone, everyone could know that he’s a noble.
But unlike the majority, he seemed comfortable being surrounded by the commons like Vixon that he even allowed Vixon to sit next to him.
“Hey,” the noble said as he offered for a handshake. “I’m Lyle von Vrithel. May I know your name?”
Lyle was a frien
