Marcus Valenor walked alone.
The western palace gradually disappeared behind him as he followed the familiar stone pathway leading toward the imperial training grounds, his measured footsteps echoing softly beneath the morning sky. The palace gardens had fully awakened beneath the gentle embrace of the early sun, their countless flowers still glistening with tiny droplets left behind by the night's rain. Servants crossed the pathways carrying baskets of freshly cut herbs and linens warmed by the morning breeze, while palace maids greeted the Empire's celebrated general with respectful bows as he passed.
Marcus returned every greeting with the same warm smile he always wore.
To anyone watching, General Marcus Valenor appeared exactly as he always had, carrying himself with a quiet confidence, a steady presence, and an unshakable composure that seemed untouched by any turmoil.
