The missive from Azure Valley had arrived at last, bearing the seal of Duke Lysander, co-signed by the heir of Duke Ironhart and Marquis Elrod. It was carried by a hawk with deep cobalt plumage, an animal reserved only for messages of the highest urgency.
The scroll, unfurled by the minister in the throne room, detailed an unexpected development: the sorceress of the Bloodroot Grove had departed on an emergency expedition to Fangride Mountain. Her return, it was stated with cautious optimism, was expected within two to three weeks.
King Maximus leaned back on the intricately carved obsidian throne, fingers drumming against the armrest as his gaze lingered on the last lines of the parchment. His eyes, storm-grey and thoughtful, narrowed beneath a crown that seemed heavier by the second.
"How many days' travel to Azure Valley from here?" he asked, his voice cutting through the hush that had fallen over the room.
