One of the soldiers stepped forward from the ranks—tall, broad-shouldered, with a steel breastplate that gleamed faintly in the late morning light. He removed his helmet as he approached, revealing a square jaw, cropped black hair, and sharp eyes that betrayed experience.
He stopped a respectful distance from Michael, then offered a crisp salute.
"My lord," he said, voice deep and clear. "Knight-Captain Roran. I've been assigned to command your escort unit."
Michael nodded once.
Roran hesitated for a second, then continued, "If I may, would you like me to send a rider ahead to the manor? We could have them prepare to receive you. It's customary, especially for newly appointed nobles arriving to claim their seat."
Michael arched a brow, folding his arms across his chest.
"Is that how it's usually done?"
Roran gave a slight nod. "Yes, my lord. At least, in most territories. A bit of ceremony helps remind the people who they're serving."
