Midday light settled softly over the inner courtyard of the Holy Capital, warming the pale marble and trimmed gardens without glare. The space was orderly as always—white columns, balanced shadows, sacred lanterns resting idle beneath the sun.
A carriage crossed the inner gate at an unhurried pace.
It was elegant, but restrained. Dark polished wood, subtle silver reinforcement along its edges. No unnecessary ornamentation. On its side, clear and unmistakable, was the crest of Luceria Grand Academy.
The white-armored guards parted in disciplined sequence, offering formal bows of acknowledgment rather than spectacle. This was not a ceremony. It was respect.
The carriage came to a stop near the steps leading toward the inner administrative wing. The door opened.
Redna stepped down lightly onto the marble.
