It was a strange, bitter sight—one that would linger in the memory of all who witnessed it: a prince abandoning his capital while its walls still stood firm. There was no glory in it, no honor to be salvaged from the shame of departure. Whether seen through the eyes of the nobility or the rough hands of commoners, the message was the same—something was broken.
Thalien had stood atop the outer rampart of the city's first wall, his hands resting cold on the stone as he watched the royal carriage roll out of the southern gate, gilded and solemn in the morning light. Within it sat the remnants of a fractured crown—his father, Prince Lechlian, flanked by his two elder sons.
