A grand carriage rolled through the towering gates of the city of Yarzat, its wheels creaking under the weight of luxury and its iron-rimmed edges kicking up dust from the well-worn road. The flag of the Imperial family of Romelia flapped proudly from its polished frame, a crimson and gold banner bearing the eagle crest of the empire, shimmering in the late afternoon sun. Surrounding the carriage, a throng of soldiers and servants marched with purpose, their polished armor and well-groomed attire reflecting their allegiance to the might of Romelia.
At the forefront and rear, imperial soldiers clad in silver chainmail and plumed helmets kept a watchful eye on the cityfolk gathering at the sides of the road. Whispers and murmurs ran through the crowd as they caught sight of the imperial sigil.
Inside the carriage, a man at the center of attention. His name was Dorian Arcelin, a seasoned diplomat dispatched by Keval Achea, the regent who ruled in place of the young emperor.
