CHAPTER 157
Morning settled softly over Alagascar, the light spilling through the tall palace windows like water drawn from a silver stream. Beyond the eastern walls, the city spread out in gentle layers, cobbled streets, white stone courtyards, and roofs washed clean by the night's rain. The air carried the faint scent of earth and wild thyme. From the balcony, the banners hung still, bearing the royal seal that had once felt like a burden but now rested like a promise fulfilled.
Grace stood alone, her gaze sweeping across the horizon.
The city below was alive. Merchants called from their stalls, their voices rising in rhythm with the bells of the western towers. Children ran between the fountains, their laughter echoing off the marble. Guards moved through the gates with polished armor, the sound of their boots a steady reassurance. The kingdom had changed, not in grand, sudden ways, but through quiet endurance. Each law, each decision, had pressed the land toward balance.