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"?"
Ceylon could barely make sense of what this legendary knight was saying. He wasn't even a native of Aleisterre; he'd only come to Winterhold after hearing about the fall of Selwyn and the opportunities that came with it.
He knew of Father Fang by name, and he recognized the identities of the two legends before him, but together, their words simply baffled him.
"Thank you for your help."
Of course, Ceylon had more urgent concerns at the moment. The two knights had stepped in to save his life. That was more than enough. Whatever their motives, survival came first. Everything else could wait.
Gallier, the Perfect Behemoth, flexed the claws that emerged from his hands—long, razor-sharp extensions from some unknown beast. His bestial eyes locked on the frost-clad giant striding toward them through the blizzard.
"So there was something like this beneath my homeland… How could I not have known? And after living here for so long, how did I never sense any disturbance from these ruins?"
Murmuring inwardly to himself, Gallier furrowed his brows. He couldn't fathom what...
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