The morning came slowly, dragging a heavy grey light across the kingdom of Noct. Thick clouds blanketed the sky, casting a dull, muted tone over the land. A cold breeze brushed across the palace courtyard, stirring dust and shaking the leaves of the nearby trees. The palace gates stood open, and outside them the royal carriage waited—polished, sturdy, and pulled by two strong black horses.
Derick approached the king and Arthur, who stood a short distance away, finishing their preparations for the journey.
Alexander was dressed simply but regally: a loose white shirt tucked neatly into dark trousers, the fabric of his black royal robe falling over his shoulders in heavy folds embroidered with gold. He wore polished black boots, and his raven-dark hair had been combed back, exposing the sharpness of his features. Even dressed lightly, he carried the commanding aura he always did—one that demanded attention without him needing to speak.
