[Sarytharn City — Zahryssar Empire — The Next Day — Afternoon]
By noon, the city had already heard, and by the afternoon, it believed.
Sarytharn did not carry news; it devoured it. From spice stalls to silk merchants, from shaded courtyards to crowded wells, the same words moved like wind through the city—whispered first.
Then it was repeated and then sharpened. Until they became something else entirely. "They say he was dragged."
"Dragged?" another voice cut in, incredulous. "By whom?"
A pause.
Lower and heavier. "…by the Malika."
Silence followed, not long but enough. At a stall lined with copper vessels, an old merchant leaned closer, his voice hushed but eager.
"I heard it from a palace servant," he said. "They say the Malik's closest ally—Nabuarsh—was seized in the night."
"Seized?" a younger man scoffed. "By the Red Knights?"
The merchant shook his head slowly. "No, by order of the Malika himself."
