8.01.5.2.1-2 (Patreon)

5.2 Carriage

“Your carriage awaits, my prince.” 

Assawin nodded Graisingh’s attention 

in the direction of the three riders that 

had arrived. “Made for a Sehanagara 

Prince.”

It was a cage.

“Fit for a dog…,” Assawin laughed.

“Move ya fuckin’ arse!” One of the 

riders had grabbed Graisingh by the 

scruff of the neck. 

But Graisingh’s hackles were up. He 

held back, snarling furious into the 

rough henchman’s face. He didn’t 

flinch. 

Other hand slapped Graisingh. 

Catching him with the full force of a 

forearm punch across the chest. 

Targeting the burn marks, raw and 

puckered.