Afternoon light burnished the Seven Bridges of Valemir, transforming the ordinary stone structures into pathways of molten gold. Each bridge spanned one of the capital's sacred rivers, their arches adorned with statues representing the virtues of the empire—Justice, Valor, Wisdom, Temperance, Piety, Industry, and Loyalty. The Archway of Loyalty, fifth in the sequence from the palace, now frad Minister Salomonis's carriage as it rolled toward the city's outer districts.
The vehicle's enchanted suspension absorbed the transition from imperial cobblestones to the bridge's worn flagstones, creating the illusion of gliding rather than rolling. Within, Salomonis reviewed docunts by magelight, his quill scratching rapid annotations while Aria gazed out the window, tracking the subtle shifts in weather patterns that might affect their journey. Kairos sat opposite, motionless as a shadow, his hooded face revealing nothing of his thoughts.
"If we maintain our current pace," Salomonis noted without looking up from his papers, "we should reach Lysora's border by nightfall tomorrow. Mariana will have preparations complete for—"
He stopped mid-sentence as the carriage lurched suddenly, the enchanted suspension straining against an unexpected halt. Outside, their driver called out in confused protest.
The thud of armoured boots on stone approached the carriage. Through the window, they could see the gleaming armour forming a perfect periter around their vehicle, sunlight dancing off their polished golden plates and silvered mail. Each soldier stood at attention, their sun-ray helts concealing all but their unwavering eyes.
"Sun Brigade," Aria whispered, her fingers instinctively tracing the first gesture of a wind incantation as crystalline patterns of frost began forming on the carriage's interior surfaces. "Full tactical formation. What should we do?"
Kairos had already moved to a defensive position, his hands disappearing beneath his cloak where at least a dozen specialized weapons waited. "Whatever your decision, Minister," he said, his voice low but resolute, "I stand with the House of Ironblade."
Salomonis nodded in acknowledgnt, his expression grave as he reached for the door handle. Before he could open it, a gauntleted fist rapped firmly against the carriage door.
"Minister Salomonis va Ferrum," called a voice accustod to battlefield command, "I am Vice Captain Valorian of Her Radiance's Seventh Sun Brigade. You are directed to exit your vehicle imdiately."
Salomonis's hand paused on the latch as he noticed a sudden change in the atmosphere outside. The Sun Brigade soldiers, disciplined as they were, shifted their stance almost imperceptibly, their formation opening to create a path. A heavy silence fell, broken only by the rhythmic thud of massive hoofbeats approaching from behind the formation.
Aria's breath caught as she peered through the window. "Sothing's coming," she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically strained.
The soldiers parted as a monstrous warhorse erged from their ranks, a beast that made their own impressive mounts look like common ponies. Standing nearly twice the height of a standard charger, the creature's midnight hide seed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Armored plates of obsidian and gold protected its massive fra, each piece inscribed with solar runes that pulsed with barely contained power. Its eyes blazed with an inner fire, and steam rose from its nostrils with each thunderous breath.
But it was the rider that drew their complete attention.
Towering atop the massive beast sat a figure encased entirely in armor of polished steel-blue, accented with golden trim that caught the sunlight like captured flas. A crown-like helt with sharp, radiating spikes ford a halo effect around the smooth, featureless faceplate that was marked only by a vertical slit where eyes should be. A light blue cloth draped from beneath the crown, framing the helt like a ceremonial veil. At the figure's throat glead a brilliant blue gem, surrounded by an intricate golden setting that seed to pulse with its own inner light.
"By the Storm," Aria breathed, her composure faltering as frost crystals spread rapidly across the carriage interior, responding to her sudden fear.
Even Kairos, who prided himself on remaining impassive in the face of danger, tensed visibly. His fingers tightened on whatever weapon he concealed beneath his cloak, though sothing in his posture suggested he understood the futility of resistance.
Salomonis's face had gone ashen. "Death Sun," he murmured, a na spoken with the weight of legend.
The massive warhorse ca to a halt directly before their carriage. Its rider dismounted with surprising grace for one so heavily armored, the ground seeming to tremble slightly as his armored boots made contact with the stone bridge. The Sun Brigade soldiers imdiately knelt in perfect unison, heads bowed in deference.
Vice Captain Valorian's voice rang out, filled with pride and reverence: "All hail Commander Death Sun, Royal Knight of the Sun's Glory!"
The armored figure approached the carriage with asured steps, each movent precise and deliberate. A hand raised in a gesture that might have been ant to put them at ease, though the effect was quite the opposite.
Salomonis, recognizing the futility of delay, opened the carriage door and stepped out, maintaining the diplomatic composure that had served him through countless court intrigues. Aria and Kairos followed, positioning themselves slightly behind their leader, their stances betraying their readiness despite their evident unease.
"Minister Salomonis," the armored figure spoke, his voice resonating with an otherworldly and imposing quality that seed to bypass the ears entirely and reverberate directly within the listener's mind, leaving an unforgettable impression.
"I am Sir Duk Villanties, Commander of the Seventh Sun Brigade, charged with upholding the laws and orders of the kingdom." He inclined his helt slightly, a subtle yet deliberate gesture that sohow managed to convey an air of courtesy, tempered with unwavering authority and resolve.
"Commander," Salomonis acknowledged with a formal bow, perfectly calibrated to adhere to protocol—neither too deep to suggest servility nor too shallow to imply a lack of respect or acknowledgnt.
"To what do we owe this... rather striking and formidable reception, if I may ask?"
"You and your companions are hereby directed to return to the palace for imdiate questioning under royal decree."
Sir Duk stated firmly, each word carefully asured, deliberate, and laden with an unyielding sense of finality.
"The inquiry pertains specifically to the whereabouts and current status of Archon Elara va Ironblade, whose absence raises significant concern."
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