The late afternoon sun bled low across the western horizon, washing the compound's heavy stone in a rich, fading gold. Vane found Ryuken standing on the outer battlement.
The older man wasn't doing anything—just existing, completely anchored in the present moment without the need for external distraction. He didn't even turn as Vane's footsteps echoed up the stone steps. Vane came to a stop beside him, letting his gaze fall to the sprawling expanse of Korreth below the mountain.
They stood in comfortable silence. It was the fifth hour; the city's bustling market was winding down, and the mana-grid thrummed cleanly through the streets, finally stabilized after three grueling days of repair.
"The gala," Ryuken said, his voice breaking the quiet.
Vane looked at him.
"You saw it."
"Yes."
