[Two Days Later — Evening — The Thalryn Border—Western Side]
The western border of Thalryn stretched wide beneath a dying sun.
Dust rolled slowly across the open land, carried by a dry wind that smelled of iron and distant storms. The banners of House Veyrhold and the Imperial crest of Thalryn stood planted in the sand, their shadows long and wavering in the fading light.
The imperial carriage slowed… then stopped.
One by one, the escorts dismounted. Armor clinked softly. Horses snorted, restless from the long journey. The air here felt different—thinner, watchful, as though the land itself knew it stood between two powers.
The door of the carriage opened.
Levin stepped down first, his boots touching the dust of the border with quiet certainty. Behind him, Duke Aren Veyrhold descended, his expression as composed as ever, though the long road had not been gentle.
An imperial guard approached at once, bowing deeply.
