The road curved down toward the village gates, and Carwyn could now make out the guards standing watch. Two men in the livery of House Maeril, the silver fish prominent on their tabards, both looking cold and bored as they shifted their weight from foot to foot.
One was an older man with a grizzled beard, the other was younger, barely out of boyhood by the look of him. Carwyn didn't recognize either of them, despite his frequent visits to Maeril over the years, but that was hardly surprising given how large of a 'village' Maeril had become.
Carwyn straightened further in his saddle, adopting the easy confidence of a knight who had every right to be there, and guided his horse toward the gates.
