Morning broke clear and golden over the duchy.
The air was crisp and bright with promise. Not a single cloud marred the expansive blue sky, and a steady breeze swept across the forecourt, fluttering banners bearing Gerhard's crest.
It was, by all omens, a day suited for a journey.
The entourage had gathered before the main gates—horses saddled, supplies secured, and the men in travelling armour. This was not a campaign of war, but neither was it leisure.
At the front of it all stood Kyren, clad in dark riding leathers beneath a long travelling cloak fastened at the shoulder. His posture was steady, gaze keen, presence commanding even in silence.
Before him stood those who would remain behind and the rest of the castle's occupants, giving their respect to the soon-to-depart entourage and seeing them off.
Emily and Meredith stood calmly, their rounded figures gently shaded by their gowns. Scarlett and Rania stayed close, attentive to their ladies' comfort.
