Laury kept riding toward Sani Scabar, hope driving him forward—hope that the queen was safe. Sweat soaked his skin as his horse pushed on relentlessly. The veins in his pale hands stood out, tight around the reins. His presence was striking: a body shaped by discipline, hair glittering under the sunlight, eyes touched by something almost magical—eyes no one could look into without feeling something.
After a long, exhausting road, on the night of the second day, he arrived. The air was wrong. He smelled enemies everywhere. Houses were shut tight, streets unnaturally silent. This land felt cruel and strange, ruled by instincts different from Salvania's. He was no longer within familiar walls, no longer protected by trust or title. Here, the rules were different. The people were different. The obstacles were unforgiving.
A new story had begun.
Here, the queen would not be called Your Majesty.
And Laury was no longer the boy everyone trusted—he was the man who would have to fight to earn peace.
He found a river and sat beside it, trying to sleep, but rest refused him. He stayed awake until sunrise, until warm colors touched his face. He took his bag, looked up at the sky, and whispered, "Hello, Sani Scabar. Let's see who wins this battle."
He walked toward the traditional market. Life was everywhere—people laughing, shouting, buying. Women in braided hair and flowing dresses. Men working as hard as their bodies allowed. Children running freely. Maybe their king wanted Salvania… but these people wanted only peace.
As Laury moved through the crowd, searching for a sign, a guide—someone—suddenly a hand grabbed his wrist from behind. He looked down first: heels. A woman's heels. Slowly, he looked up.
She wore a white dress, a corset tight against her chest, shaping a flawless silhouette. A white umbrella shielded her face and shoulders from the sun. Silk gloves covered her arms. She tilted the umbrella just enough to reveal the lower half of her face.
It was her.
The queen.
Margaret.
Radiant. Untouchable.
She smiled softly and said, "Laury… I knew you would come."
Then, almost playfully, "Welcome to Sani Scabar. We have a long journey ahead."
Laury stood frozen—unsure of what to do, unsure of how to act—as the world around him seemed to hold its breath.