The carriage finally rolled toward the towering gates of Erebus Citadel, the beating heart of the Kingdom of Aethelgard. Beyond these walls lay the kingdom's capital, a place where the air seemed to hum with a mingling of power, ambition, and the pride of a city that had stood for centuries.
The moment the guards caught sight of the Veiled Flame crest gleaming on the carriage door, their posture shifted, backs straightening, and expressions sharpening. Without hesitation, they waved the vehicle toward the VIP passage, a narrow lane reserved for royalty, foreign dignitaries, and the few whose names alone could part the city's defenses. The long lines of travellers, merchants, and petitioners were left behind; here, no delays would dare touch them.
After the last great event at the border of Ashburn's territory, there was no longer a soul in the Kingdom who didn't know the name of the sorceress behind the Veiled Flame crest.
