Sandoz stood beside his father, eyes wide in awe as he stared up at the towering gate before them. The massive twin towers flanking it stretched so high into the sky they seemed to scrape the clouds.
Two years ago, this road had been nothing more than a narrow, uneven path cutting through wild grasslands. He remembered bouncing on the saddle, his teeth rattling with every stone in the dirt. Back then, Calma had felt like a sleepy border town with little more than a few guard posts and the smell of sheep.
The road leading to the gate was paved now—smooth cobblestones arranged in an intricate pattern of interlocking diamond shaped bricks, polished by countless wheels and boots. Sunlight shimmered on their surface, as if the road itself had been enchanted. And the gate—it rose before them like the mouth of a colossus, flanked by two towers so tall they disappeared into the haze above.
His gaze was already climbing the nearest tower, its sleek stone surface smooth as poured glass. Rows of thin, slitted windows ran up its height—small and narrow, like watchful eyes peering out from a fortress unwilling to blink. The windows seemed to multiply as they rose, until the tower resembled a vertical face riddled with unblinking eyes.
Amidst those windows, a pair of light brown eyes locked with his own—familiar, warm, and unmistakably hers.
His father, Connor, noticed the sudden tension in his son. "What’s wrong—"
But before he could finish, Sandoz broke into a shout that echoed off the stone walls.
"Sis! Sis!" He waved his arms frantically, his voice trembling excitement echoed off the stone walls like a bell. He waved frantically, nearly losing his balance if not for his father’s hand clutching his arm.
Linnea, still inside the carriage, startled at the sudden outburst, peeked out with a concerned expression.
He bolted toward the gate—but his path was swiftly blocked by two burly guards, their spears leveled squarely at his chest.
"Sandoz!" Duke Connor called out sharply and strode forward, grabbing his son by the arm and pulling him behind him in a protective stance. His voice was calm, but his posture warned the guards that any harm to the boy would not be taken lightly.
"I apologize. My son is just excited to meet a friend. Don’t scare him." He said, his voice was laced with authority of a duke.
Then, from a smaller side gate beside the left tower, a tall, graceful woman emerged. She wore a flowing white blouse with wide sleeves tucked neatly into high-waisted trousers that flared at the hem—a striking figure against the gray stone.
"Sis Lara!" Sandoz cried, breaking free and running toward her, arms wide for an embrace.
She smiled and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him. Once, she used to stoop to hug him—now he nearly reached her chest. He had grown, and so had she. Lara now stood at 175 centimeters, but Sandoz’s growth surprised her.
"Sis, I missed you so much. Why did you not visit in the last two years?"
"I missed you too, little brother," she replied softly. "But things here... they haven’t been easy. We haven’t been able to leave for the capital."
He looked up at the walls, his eyes wide again. "This place... it’s so different. The gate, the towers—everything looks and feels imposing. This isn’t the same Calma I remember."
"You’re right," Lara said, her voice quieter now. "Everything has changed."
Just then, a soft voice called out, "Lady Lara..."
She turned to see Linnea approaching, her hand resting gently on the shoulder of a young girl, smaller than Sandoz.
"Madame Linnea, how are you?" Lara greeted her with a courteous smile and bowed slightly. Then she turned to Duke Connor and gave him a respectful nod.
"You can just call me Lara. I am no longer a noble."
Before any more could be said, a commanding voice rang out from behind them. "Let them through. The guards will complete inspection."
behind spoke with authority.
"Prince" Duke Connor and Linnea greeted him with a slight dip.
Alaric had arrived, his presence magnetic and his tone brooking no argument. Both Connor and Linnea gave him a formal dip of the head.
"Prince," they greeted.
While the guards continued their examination of the convoy, the family was escorted to the reception hall on the ground floor of Argus. The room was large and airy, able to accommodate thirty guests comfortably. A narrow staircase hugged the left wall, leading to the second floor. Wide benches were arranged thoughtfully throughout the chamber, offering visitors shelter from the blazing sun outside.
Sandoz clung to Lara’s arm, peppering her with questions. His unrestrained joy and curiosity began to wear on Alaric’s patience, but he held his tongue. Sandoz was, after all, his second cousin’s son.
Lara, for her part, was touched by the reunion. She had missed him—missed the simple, carefree days when they would idle at the windswept plateau. Perhaps, she thought, they could go back there—just once.
Then Alaric turned to Connor, his tone shifting to one of quiet suspicion.
"Why have you come, Duke Connor? You bring only your second wife and your three youngest daughters. This isn’t a casual visit."
Connor gave a slight nod, his face unreadable. "It was Grandpa who asked me to bring Sandoz here. He believes the capital is on the brink of unrest. He says a storm is coming, and its spark was General Odis’s exile to Fengsel Island."
Alaric’s brow furrowed. He respected Prince Dakota immensely. The old man’s instincts were rarely wrong, even in his advanced age. If he sensed danger, then danger was indeed coming.
Soon, the guards returned and gave the all-clear. The inspection of all ten carriages belonging to the Duke of Arches had been completed.
As they resumed their journey through Calma, Sandoz pressed his face against the window, watching the city unfold around him. His eyes widened with every turn. Where once there had been crumbling walls and muddy alleys, now stood gleaming stone buildings and soldiers in crisp uniforms.
It was as if he had entered an entirely different world.