Xedrin walked the village, a sword at his belt. A patrolman of the highest power deserved a pleasant walk. Villagers waved warmly as he walked past, as he was the kindest authority figure they’d seen since King Hertamas. His silver eyes looked around, his delicate mouth curved into a warm smile. He even stopped to shake a few hands.

“Lovely day, am I right, Samuel?”

“How’s the wife, Jameson?”

“Aww, isn’t she adorable? How old is she?” A warm comment or question for each villager, being tossed the occasional fruit, not having it thrown at, but thrown to, life was great for Xedrin…

But his life was about to take a drastic turn for the worse. And he had no idea.