The thirty knights arrived just hours before nightfall, their horses kicking up dust as they galloped down the mountain trail toward the village's edge. Sweat clung to their armor, their faces streaked with grime and fatigue after a half-day's hard ride. As they dismounted, villagers—mostly young men and women—hurried forward to help with the horses, guiding them toward the stables that had been prepared in advance.
Sienna-Rose stood near the edge of the open field, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The moment the knights gathered in formation before her, she raised a single finger and flicked it lightly through the air.
"You smell like dust and sun," she said matter-of-factly. "Clean."
