The grand courtyard of Caelmont stirred with the clamor of departure.
Banners of the five realms snapped in the brisk morning wind, their colors rippling against a pale sky.
Delegates mounted restless horses, servants folded away silken tents, and guards moved with steady purpose, the scrape of steel echoing faintly against stone.
Amid the tide of nobles and warriors in motion, one group stood still.....the Ashmere delegates, their crimson cloaks gleaming like embers under the sun.
Valerian Stormborne strode toward them, his dark cloak trailing, Aurelia and Vaelric keeping pace at his side.
Behind him, Kaelen, Rael, and Therion followed at a measured distance, their sharp gazes watching every flicker of movement.
Azarion Flameborne, Lord of Ashmere and Warden of Emberhold, was waiting.
He stood tall, broad-shouldered, his flame-red hair streaked with iron gray. His eyes narrowed as Valerian approached, but his lips curved into a thin smile that carried no warmth.
