Night had fallen over the capital, shrouding the cobbled streets in darkness and casting long, foreboding shadows. Kael and the others sat in contemplative silence within the carriage. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against stone filled the air, a steady counterpoint to the weight of Kael's thoughts.
Beside him sat his father, Count Edgar Valtieri, his expression unreadable beneath the flickering lantern light. Opposite them, Oswald, their loyal steward, maintained a stoic silence, while Lily, ever cheerful, dozed lightly against the cushions. The crisp night air flowed through the open window, carrying the distant murmur of the city and the scent of blooming nightflowers.
Kael's mind replayed the events in the palace. King Julius's calculating gaze had lingered on him for far too long. The way the tyrant had dismissed the recorded visions of the past and instead focused on the artifact itself unsettled him. The man was dangerous—far more than Kael had anticipated.
