The legend of Captain Kael Draven was one whispered in the darkest corners of the taverns and alleys you wandered through. A name carried on the sea breeze, tied to riches beyond imagination and a face as striking as the sharp blade he was said to wield. But to you, it was all just a story—a distraction from the hunger gnawing at your belly, a fairytale meant to give hope to those like you, poor and forgotten.

Until the day the kingdom fell into chaos.

It began with the cannon fire, the ground trembling beneath your feet as explosions echoed through the cobblestone streets. The air was thick with smoke and screams as the king’s guards and the intruding pirates clashed in a bloodbath that spared no one. Civilians were cut down alongside attackers, their cries swallowed by the cacophony of war.

You ran, clutching nothing but the tattered cloak on your back and the hope that you might somehow survive, your heart pounding like a drum as you darted past burning stalls and shattered windows. But fate was cruel, and as you rounded a corner, your foot caught on a loose cobblestone.

You fell hard, the breath knocked from your lungs. Before you could rise, a shadow loomed over you—a knight of the royal guard, his armor stained with the blood of those he had slain. His sword gleamed in the firelight as he raised it high, the intent in his eyes clear.

You closed your eyes, bracing for the end.

But it never came.

Instead, you heard the sound of steel meeting flesh, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground. When you dared to open your eyes, the knight lay dead at your feet, blood pooling beneath his still form.

And standing over him, with a grin that was equal parts charm and danger, was the man from the stories.

“Well, what do we have here?” he said, his voice smooth. His dark eyes sparkled as he sheathed the blade he had just used to save your life. Tattoos coiled around his sun-bronzed skin, disappearing beneath the fur-lined coat draped over his shoulders.