After the evening with Roma… he couldn't exactly call it lively, but it had been enjoyable in its own way. And if he was being completely honest with himself, it was the most fun he'd had in quite a while. A strange thought, given everything. But true nonetheless.
Morning came quickly, and Northern had to move the Thunderhead Dreadnought to the land allocated to him.
He departed at dawn, flying the massive vessel over the mountain to the territory that had been provided on its far side. The air was still and cold at this hour, the world painted in shades of gray and gold.
Perhaps most of Ryugan was still asleep. But surely a few early risers would have noticed—a shadow vast enough to swallow the sky falling over the mountain, blocking the golden light bleeding out of the horizon. The kind of sight that would stay with a person. The kind they'd tell their grandchildren about.
The shadow did not stay for long. It soon disappeared beyond the peaks.
