The oppressive silence of the wall-top was broken only by the soft whisper of the wind brushing past stone and steel. From the highest rampart of the Tenth-Floor City, Mirean Moon stood like a vision of grace — her long silver hair flowing behind her, eyes narrowed at the group approaching below.
"Someone's coming," she murmured, her tone calm but alert. "Should we go down to meet them?"
Luciel, standing beside her, folded his arms and followed her gaze. Below, a band of people gathered nervously before the massive rock tortoise — the ancient beast that served as the foundation of their mobile fortress. "We should," he replied simply.
But Mirean smiled faintly, a trace of teasing grace in her voice. "Leave this to me, City Lord. You shouldn't lower your status for such things."
