The sun was now dipping, its warm glow blanketing the capital in deceptive calm.
Citizens walked past a group of seven moving down the stone-paved streets—a strange bunch, perhaps, but dressed finely enough that no one gave them more than a curious glance.
They looked like an entourage from a high noble family. And technically, they were.
Raven led the group with the air of someone who owned every inch of ground he stepped on.
His coat fluttered slightly behind him, hands in his pockets, his eyes steady and half-lidded like he was two thoughts ahead of reality.
On his arm, a faint tattoo shimmered—Omni, his sentient sword, currently residing as a lazy ink design that occasionally pulsed with bored sarcasm.
Behind Raven walked Clara, hair tied, eyes sharp, the very picture of a bodyguard who also happened to be his first girlfriend—and maybe the sanest one.
