The white sheep of the family
The knock echoed through the Manor. Loren was in the kitchen, kneading bread with perhaps a bit more force than was necessary. Dressed in all black except for a white apron, he was spotted with flour basically all over, including one smear on his cheek that stood out all the more due to the dark circles under his eyes. Glancing up at the sound, he sighed, and dusted off his hands. Setting the dough aside, he padded, barefoot, to the front door.
Opening it, he was surprised to find a man he hadn't met before. Leaning one handed on the door, the summoner swept his gaze over the stranger, taking him in with an almost businesslike and clinical efficiency. "How can I help you?" The Launceleyn's voice was cooly polite.
Opening it, he was surprised to find a man he hadn't met before. Leaning one handed on the door, the summoner swept his gaze over the stranger, taking him in with an almost businesslike and clinical efficiency. "How can I help you?" The Launceleyn's voice was cooly polite.
Will blood tell
