Guards at the main gates straightened, hands moving to weapons as a column of riders appeared through the great archway. Fifty men, perhaps more, all bearing the crimson and gold banners of the Qin Kingdom. Their armor gleamed with road dust, and their faces were hardened.
King Qin Tiānyuán dismounted before his horse had fully stopped, his boots hitting the paving stones with a force that sent pigeons scattering into the air. He wore formal mourning robes of undyed hemp cloth, the coarse fabric marking him as a father in deepest grief. His hair, usually bound in the elaborate style befitting royalty, hung loose and disheveled. Three days of hard riding had carved hollows beneath his eyes.
He had not come for diplomacy.
Court officials rushed forward, bowing low, their voices rising in formal greeting. "Your Majesty King Qin, welcome to the Imperial—"
"Where is he?" Qin Tiānyuán's voice cut through their pleasantries. "Where is the Crown Prince?"
