Crown Prince Callan, still standing watch, turned his head quickly—his sharp eyes catching sight of a figure in heavy robes walking toward him, surrounded by palace guards and followed by several high-ranking nobles dressed in deep red and dark gold.
The nobles whispered among themselves, amazed by the sight they had just seen earlier from the safety of the palace windows.
The figure walking ahead of them was none other than Emperor of Solaria, his long cloak brushing the stone ground as he moved, his golden crown reflecting the firelight. His face, though aged, was strong—his brows slightly furrowed, his expression unreadable.
As soon as Callan saw him, the prince straightened his back and stepped forward. His hand went to his chest as he lowered his head slightly in formal greeting.
"Father, may the night bless your steps," Callan said
