Glen Lancaster sat still in his carriage, his body gently rocking as the iron wheels clattered over the cobbled road. On either side, imperial soldiers marched in close formation, their armor gleaming beneath the near-perfect harvest sun. Crimson-and-gold banners bearing the imperial crest fluttered proudly atop their spears, swaying with the breeze that swept through Ukiteran—the bustling trade city anchoring the Southeastern province.
As the carriage rolled closer to the heart of the city, the sounds of celebration grew louder. Folk music echoed down the streets, the high, bright notes of flutes, the jingle of tiny bells, the rhythmic beat of leather drums, all rising in a symphony that invited anyone near to join the festivities. The air was thick with the sweet scent of ripe fruit, fresh-baked bread, and aromatic spices drifting from lines of food stalls crowding the main thoroughfare.
