Early Morning - Training Grounds
The sky was still bathed in pale morning light when the soldiers assembled in the open clearing, a sacred hour before the day's demands pulled them apart. The remaining captains sat cross-legged across the field, eyes closed, backs straight, immersed in silence.
Lumberling sat among them, hands resting atop his knees, practicing Imperial Mindseal Meditation.
His breath was slow, controlled. His thoughts emptied like sand slipping through his fingers. Within his inner space, a lattice of invisible threads shifted, reorganizing his emotions, memories, and instincts, each sealed into their proper place. The technique sharpened his will like a blade, anchoring his self beneath layers of discipline.
Then.
The wind carried footsteps.
Soft leather. Elven stride.
The tranquil atmosphere stirred like a still pond broken by a stone.
