Jett's carriage rattled along the winding, rutted road as the jagged silhouette of the Northern Wall Kingdom loomed into view.
Each concentric ring of pale granite rose like a giant's ribcage against the sky, stones chiseled so precisely their seams vanished in the golden haze of late afternoon.
Narrow arrow slits and crenellated battlements caught the sun at every tier, while banners bearing the kingdom's frost‑blue crest fluttered stiffly in the sharp breeze.
Beyond the grassy moor lay three smaller sentinel walls, each bristling with life.
The guards stood at rigid attention in frost‑grey armor polished to a mirror finish.
Their pauldrons bore engraved runes that hinted at enchantments of warding and watchfulness; beneath their visored helms, eyes the color of glacial ice scanned the horizon with unwavering diligence.
At each checkpoint, a long spear's tip cut silver lines through the air, the butt ends pressed into the earth in salute as Jett's carriage rolled to a halt.
