The morning mist burned away beneath the pale northern sun, revealing four gilded carriages halted just before the timber tollgate of Oakhaven.
Each carriage bore the polished bronze emblem of the Western High Marches—three jagged mountain peaks crowned with green laurel leaves. Behind the wagons, twenty mounted guards in forest-green cloaks and polished breastplates sat atop heavy bay geldings, their hands resting on decorated halberds.
Elena stood at the center of the wooden bridge.
She wore a long overcoat of charcoal wool lined with silver fox fur at the collar, the silver spiral crest of House Crescent Moon gleaming at her left lapel. Her dark hair was plaited tightly, resting over one shoulder, her posture straight and regal. Behind her, twenty Sunspire sentries stood at strict pa
