Trafalgar followed Aubrelle through the city without questioning the path.
For once, his mind was quiet. The maps he had memorized, the formations discussed, the contingencies layered upon contingencies—all of it receded into the background. What remained was simpler. He wanted to be there. With her. That was enough.
The city felt ordinary in a way that was almost disarming.
There were people outside, though not many. A pair of lycans stood near a corner, speaking softly in human form. Further down the street, a human merchant shuttered his shop for the night while an elven woman waited patiently beside him, their exchange calm, familiar.
It reminded him uncomfortably of Euclid.
Most of the people here were not followers of Thal'Zar. They lived on this land because it was where their lives had taken root. Work, family, habit. Circumstance. The same way Euclid had once belonged to Morgain without its people ever truly belonging to the house itself.
