Just as the sky began to brighten, Viscount Brooke opened his eyes.
He sat up, donned a long robe with a black background and silver patterns, impeccably tailored, the leather wolf-tooth epaulets retained the Northern tradition, steady yet dignified.
He smoothed the cuffs gently before the bronze mirror, adjusted his bow tie, and casually draped a cloak bearing his family crest over his shoulder.
"Hmm, indeed a Northern noble." He murmured to himself, a satisfied smile flickering in his eyes.
Once fully dressed, he stepped onto the carriage with composed steps.
Inside, the carriage was lined with furs, and outside stood his remaining three personal guards, though slightly lower ranked, still spirited.
He lifted the curtain, gazing outside, where the streets of Red Tide Territory were already waking under the morning light.
The streets of Red Tide remained bustling.
