Nero's walk through the village toward the training grounds felt deliberate measured and unyielding His steps weren't loud but each one carried weight enough that the crowd instinctively moved aside Men paused mid conversation women shifted to pull their children back apprentices carrying buckets or tools stopped in place clearing the path as if compelled It wasn't fear alone but something subtler heavier
By the time he neared the courtyard where the temple students often gathered the effect was complete It was as if the sea itself had parted for him leaving a wide open lane for his passage His cloak fluttered faintly with the mountain wind the pale light catching on the silver trim of his traveling gear his sword at his side swaying in rhythm with his stride
