Early the next morning, the gates of the royal city opened.
Ernest rode in at the front, his armor stained with dust and dried blood. Behind him were his men, quiet and alert. At the center of the group rode a bound figure slumped over a horse.
Lord Aureline.
His hands were tied. His head hung low. A cloth was wrapped around his neck and shoulders, hiding his face, but his build alone was enough. People recognized him at once.
The news moved faster than the horses.
"He's back."
"They caught him."
"Lord Aureline has been captured."
By the time Ernest reached the inner streets, the city was already awake. Shop doors stood open. Windows were crowded with faces. People poured into the roads, ignoring the guards who tried to keep order.
They came to see with their own eyes.
Some climbed crates and carts. Others stood on tiptoe. Mothers lifted children onto their shoulders. Soldiers pushed back the crowd, but curiosity was stronger than fear.
"That's him?"
