The eastern delegation arrived at noon.
Lady Sera rode at the head of the column, her white hair streaked with silver now, her face lined with the years but still sharp, still proud, still carrying the fierce authority that had once made her a feared enemy. She wore traveling leathers instead of armor, a sign of peace rather than war, and her sword hung at her hip out of habit rather than expectation. Behind her came a small retinue—guards in eastern colors, servants carrying bundles, and a heavily laden cart that creaked under the weight of its cargo.
Seren waited in the courtyard, Aeron stood to her left, his silver crown catching the light. Kael stood to her right, his arm around her shoulders. Theron stood behind her, his arms around her waist. Lysa stood nearby, her son in her arms, her daughter clutching her skirt, both of them watching the approaching delegation with wide eyes.
