Dawn broke over the mountain ridge, painting the frost-covered valley in shades of bruised purple and gold.
Cassian stood near the Palace's carriage steps, adjusting the silver clasps of his traveling cloak. Beside him stood Lucien and Sora. Lucien checked the girth straps on the lead horses with a soldier's practiced eye, while Sora adjusted the hood of Cassian's mantle to protect him against the mountain chill.
"The journey to the Shrine of Solis should take no more than four hours," Cassian said, offering both men a reassuring smile.
"We will retrieve the ceremonial robes from the High Priest and return before nightfall."
"Take no risks, Cassian," Lucien warned softly, his dark eyes searching Cassian's face.
"The mountain passes are narrow, and the winter weather is unpredictable. In the end should I just come along?"
"He will not be unprotected," Sora added, turning his gaze toward the courtyard where the elite six of the heavily armored warriors mounted their warhorses in silent, disciplined synchronization.
Leo rode up to the steps on a massive coal-black charger, his crimson cloak snapping in the biting wind. He raised his gauntleted fist in a crisp salute to Lucien and Sora.
"The Crimson Vanguard is ready to depart."
Tristan and Aurelian stepped out onto the porch to bid them farewell. Tristan adjusted his own cloak, looking at the hardened veterans with quiet admiration, while Aurelian offered Cassian a warm, encouraging nod.
Cassian boarded the reinforced carriage, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him. With a sharp crack of the reins, the convoy moved out, trailing through the estate gates and winding up the narrow, snow-dusted mountain roads toward the Whispering Pass.
Two hours later,
The atmosphere shifted.
The mountain air grew heavy, thick with the scent of pine and damp stone. The path narrowed sharply, squeezed between two towering, sheer rock cliffs that blocked out the morning sun, plunging the gorge into gloomy shadows.
Inside the carriage, Cassian looked out the window, his hand resting instinctively on the hilt of his concealed sidearm blade. Something in the silence of the path felt wrong. No birds sang along the ridge; no mountain goats picked across the high ledges.
Outside, Leo raised his hand, signaling the Vanguard to slow to a walking pace, his sharp, battle-tested instincts flared a he scanned the high cliffs of the Whispering Pass, his hand drifting toward his broadsword.
"Stay sharp,"
Leo growled to his lieutenants.
"Tight formation around the carriage."
High above the gorge, hidden behind the jagged stone outcroppings, Knox peered down through a spyglass. His eyes widened in sudden, icy shock as he took in the sight below.
Instead of a handful of light imperial guards, a wall of blood-red cloaks and gleaming iron armor was marching steadily into the choke point.
"What is this?" Knox hissed to Norman, who crouched beside him with a loaded heavy crossbow.
"Ruby said he'd have an honor guard! That's the entire damn Crimson Vanguard!"
Norman's jaw tightened, his scarred face twisting with a mixture of greed and desperate rage. He looked at the pouch of gold at his belt, then down at the silver vial of Aether-Bane resting in his pocket.
"It doesn't matter who is guarding him," Norman growled, pulling back the heavy string of his crossbow and aiming for the lead horse.
"Trigger the rockfall! Trap them in the gorge!"
Down in the pass, a sudden, thunderous crack echoed off the canyon walls.
*****