The capital of Elandor stirred under the soft veil of dawn, the citadel’s towers rising like stone giants against a sky brushed in gold. In the eastern courtyard of the fortress, Lady Elira stood tall in her polished armor, her sword strapped across her back. She had spent many years commanding battalions, yet the weight of this new mission pressed heavier than any campaign.
Before her lay a line of riders—her chosen company, loyal knights sworn to her banner. Their horses pawed at the cobblestones, steam rising from their nostrils. Banners of silver and green fluttered in the morning breeze.
The air was sharp with the scent of oil and steel.
---
The King’s Charge
King Theon himself had come to the courtyard, walking slowly, each step betraying both the strength of a monarch and the w
