Ronan stood outside the Pollundini manor.
He paused, inspecting the estate.
Massive. Even larger than the Ashbourne estate at first glance, though Ronan recognized the difference. Pollundini wealth was not necessarily greater – it was displayed differently. Ashbourne wealth was shown in different way. Older, more noble. Pollundini's wealth was martial.
The gates were enormous, reinforced steel crossed with runic etchings supporting the gates. Broad courtyards spread out before him, paved stone worn smooth by decades of sparring and training. Visible training grounds dominated the right side, weapons racks gleaming in the afternoon light. Armored guards stood at attention every twenty paces, their posture perfect, and their eyes tracking him the moment he approached watching his every move.
