At the front rode Queen Arlen, her armor scratched, the violet crest of Falmuth dulled with ash and soul-burnt blood.
Yet her presence had not diminished. If anything, the soldiers followed her with more reverence now because she had stood when others had knelt.
At the gate, a delegation waited.
Three Fairy Pavilion Envoys, robed in silver and violet, their features flawless, ageless, otherworldly. The one at the center stepped forward.
"Queen Arlen," she greeted, voice serene. "The Pavilion welcomes you and your soldiers. By our accords, the city remains neutral ground. We will extend hospitality. No blade shall be raised within."
Arlen gave a short nod. "My soldiers need shelter and healing. Some of them won't see the next dawn without help."
"And we will provide it," the envoy said with a practiced smile. "Luna herself has granted temporary sanctuary. Come. The barracks have been opened."
