At the grand crossroads connecting northern mountain passes to southern desert plains, the border market was bathed in the warm glow of thousands of hanging paper lanterns.
Caravans, merchant tents, and long festive tables lined the wide paved highway, celebrating the one-year anniversary of open borders and eternal peace across Tasaka.
Music from northern bone flutes and southern stringed harps drifted through the cool evening air, blending with the rich aromas of roasting spices and sweet date wine.
Warriors, merchants, and cadets from all five corners of the continent drank and danced together under the starry sky, their old tribal grievances forgotten.
At the center of the pavilion, Squad 25 gathered around a heavy cedar banquet table overflowing with flagons of dark northern ale.
When Grand Zorath Kaka looked across at Sagiri under the bright lantern light, his brow furrowed with blunt concern.
