At the western walls of the Imperial City Castrellon, torches flickered atop the battlements, casting long shadows against the Dawn.
The guards stationed there had spent their shift in relative peace, but when one of them caught sight of a lone rider approaching on horseback, his grip on his spear tightened.
For a moment, there was only silence, the distant sound of hooves striking the earth road echoing through the still night.
Then, as the rider came into view, the flickering torchlight illuminated his unmistakable presence—the dark armor, the flowing imperial cloak, the air of charisma that clung to him like a second skin.
The guards instantly realized who he was.
"The Emperor has returned!" one of them bellowed, his voice echoing across the walls.
At once, the men moved with haste, yanking open the massive iron gates that guarded the western entrance.
The mechanisms groaned as the gate parted to allow passage.
