Galen and Magnus strode toward the main doors of the Solara Palace, the late afternoon sun catching on the polished armor of the Solara Knights standing guard. Their golden helms turned in sync, and as their eyes locked onto Galen, their stance shifted instantly.
"Prince Galen...?" one of the knights said, almost in disbelief, lowering his spear into a defensive posture. The others followed suit, weapons barring the way forward.
Galen stopped, hands still shoved deep in his coat pockets. His eyes, a glowing crimson hue, flicked lazily from one spear tip to the next. "Drop the 'Prince' crap," he said flatly. "I'm not here to waste energy on titles or childhood drama. Move."
One of the knights cleared his throat and stepped forward, his face tight with unease. "Forgive us, but... we can't let you pass. The King's orders were explicit—his son is not to step foot inside this kingdom again, let alone the palace."
