Vetasta did not sleep the way other cities did.
It rested with one eye open.
Elex felt it the moment he passed beneath its eastern gate - the quiet tension in the streets, the way guards stood just a breath straighter than duty required, how messengers moved with purpose instead of haste. Preparation, the kind that came only when people understood war was no longer a distant rumor, but a certainty approaching on measured steps.
The banners of House Svedana hung from the inner walls of the city, Vetasta's main house - silver and blue snapping in the cold wind. Their presence alone had changed the city's posture. Elex could feel it in the looks cast his way: recognition first, then relief.
The Commander of the Northern Armies came, those looks said.
He disliked the title. But he understood why it mattered.
