The convoy slid under the North Gate, and everything changed.
Outside the walls, there were mud, reeds, and running. Inside, the streets were lined with old stone—cobbled lanes, black iron lamps, and carved doorways—but nothing felt antique. Clear glass street signs glowed softly at the corners. The lamps hummed on as the cars passed. Small lenses blinked from the brackets. What looked like decoration was doing a job.
Talia stared. So did Alina.
Amalia laughed. “Close your mouths, children, or the flies will move in.”
From the front seat, Casius glanced back. “Yeah,” he said, amused. “We’re more high-tech than we look.”
They rolled through the first square. Discs set into the paving clicked under the tires—sensors counting cars and checking plates. Slim poles on the rooftops turned li
