The march carried them into Liraeth's lands, and the difference was striking. Compared to Baron Roland's rough, practical holdings, her territory carried a quiet grace. The roads were well-kept, the fields neatly tended, and villages along the way were dotted with flowerbeds and painted shutters. Even the air seemed lighter, filled with the laughter of children who waved shyly as the soldiers passed.
Lumberling rode at the front, taking it all in. Order and care. A noble who doesn't just rule, but nurtures.
By the time they reached her estate, the sun dipped low, casting long golden light across the viscount's mansion. It stood tall and elegant, its white stone walls climbing ivy, its banners fluttering proudly in the evening breeze.
"Welcome to my home," Liraeth said, dismounting with poise before gesturing toward the entrance.
