Aric made his way from his estate to the imperial palace.
The streets of Valeria's capital were busy as it ever were—merchants hawking, street performers entertaining small crowds, and nobles gossiping as their carriages rolled by.
Normally, Aric might have spared a glance or two at the chaos of it all, but today, his mind was elsewhere.
The Northrenders had arrived.
He hadn't done anything to stop them, not because he couldn't—but because he didn't want to. Why? That was a question even he couldn't answer easily.
Perhaps it was because this meeting had the potential to shift the fragile balance of power, and Aric preferred to watch it unfold rather than meddle prematurely. Or maybe, perhaps, he was intrigued to see her play.
Yrsa.
The name lingered in his thoughts like the aftertaste of a strong drink—familiar, enticing, and dangerous.
He pushed the thought away as he approached the palace gates, nodding briefly to the guards who saluted him.
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