Alpheo and the royal army finally reached the gates of Yarzat after a grueling week of marching. The towering spires of the capital city glimmered in the late afternoon sun, casting long shadows over the roads as they approached. The banners of House Veloni-isha fluttered in the breeze, their royal sigils unmistakable as the procession entered through the main gates.
One by one, the army of 1,000 soldiers filed through the cobbled streets of Yarzat, their armor clanking and shields gleaming in the fading light. The men marched in disciplined ranks, their boots thudding in unison, and their weapons cleaned from the stains of battle now gleamed under the light of the sun . Alpheo led them from the front, his figure a grim symbol of victory. His helm was under his arm, his dark hair falling loosely over his shoulders as he looked straight ahead, his expression unreadable.
