Everlance

The towering walls of Everlance loomed ahead, their polished stone glinting in the golden sunlight like a sentinel dressed in radiant armor. The gates, vast and intricate, bore the insignias of the Knight Orders, their heraldry a testament to centuries of strength and honour. As the group entered the city, the gates groaned, their ancient iron hinges moving with the steady grace of something eternal.

Inside, the city unfolded like a dream. Everlance, where the land itself seemed to echo the resounding clangor of steel on steel, and the air was thick with the scent of ancient oaths and ardor. The streets were wide and meticulously paved, their cobblestones glowing faintly as though kissed by the sun itself. This wasn't a city that shied from light; it embraced it, reflecting the radiance in golden hues that danced off every surface. 

The buildings were a marvel — white marble veined with streaks of gold, their facades etched with the stories of heroes past. Arched windows framed by gilded trims glittered like the eyes of watchful sentinels, while their rooftops, adorned with banners and pennants, fluttered in a breeze that seemed to hum with the city's pulse. Spires pierced the shimmering sky, their tips crowned with statues of knights bearing swords raised high — a silent pledge of protection to all who dwelled within.

The air carried the mingling scents of lavender and freshly tilled earth, an oddly comforting juxtaposition to the ever-present tang of steel and smoke from the forges scattered across the city. Forgesmiths worked in open-air workshops, their hammers ringing a steady rhythm as sparks danced like fireflies, a constant reminder of Everlance's identity as the heart of Arthuria's martial pride.

In the distance, yet somehow ever near, stood the castle — a colossus of grandeur. Its ivory towers climbed into the heavens, their pinnacles seemingly lost in the radiant gold of the sky. The castle's walls shimmered as though alive, light catching on crystalline veins embedded within the stone, making it a beacon visible from any corner of the city. Even at night, when the rest of the city slumbered, the castle glowed softly, a pale blue luminescence that bathed Everlance in serenity.

The roads leading to the castle formed a sprawling web, converging at its base, where a great courtyard lay, flanked by statues of the Kingdom's founders. The castle's gates were an artistry of their own, carved from ancient oak and reinforced with gleaming steel, their surface inlaid with scenes of battles won and alliances forged. Beyond those gates lay the King's chambers, but even here, on the streets of Everlance, the castle's presence commanded reverence.

The cohort passed a market square bustling with life. Stalls overflowed with wares — jewels glinting like shards of sunlight, silks dyed in the colors of a setting sun, and armor polished to a mirror's sheen. Vendors called out to passersby, their voices weaving into the lively tapestry of the city's ambiance. Musicians played melodies that seemed to echo the city's soul, their notes rising to meet the golden sky.

As they moved deeper into the city, Athaan couldn't help but feel a strange sense of awe and nostalgia, the kind that settled heavily in one's chest. Everlance was not just a city — it was a living monument, a reflection of the strength and unity of Arthuria. Every stone, every blade of grass, every gust of wind seemed to whisper stories of glory and sacrifice.

Sabbath, walking a step ahead, paused briefly to look up at the castle. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze lingered, as if drawn by some unseen force. For a moment, the clangor of steel and the vibrant chatter faded into a profound stillness. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, the golden light intensifying, casting long shadows that stretched toward the group.

"Soon." Sabbath murmured, his voice low but firm.

Their conversation at the glade had been short but packed with information. So much information they would spend the entire trip back in silence. Contemplating the consequences of what had been decided….

And just like that, after four long days they had arrived in the capital city — Everlance, now heading to the main residence of House Aegis, not just any house. A Core House, one of the major heads in all things Arthuria.

Castle Aegis stood as a fortress of prestige and might, perched upon a sprawling cliffside that overlooked the glimmering expanse of Everlance's western lakes. Its walls — carved from granite veined with streaks of silver — rose imposingly, their sheer height a declaration of unyielding strength. Banners embroidered with the sigil of the House fluttered defiantly in the wind, catching the golden hues of the afternoon sun. 

Beyond the gates, the main courtyard sprawled like a parade ground. Towering statues of past Dukes lined the edges, their stone visages eternally stern, their hands resting upon swords half-drawn — a silent testament to Aegis' legacy as defenders of the realm. The very air seemed heavier here, thick with the weight of oaths sworn and battles fought. 

The keep at the heart of the estate rose like a crown. Its structure was a blend of elegance and fortification, with gleaming bastions and intricate filigree engraved along its walls. Arched windows cast beams of light into the halls within, but even the grandeur could not soften its martial spirit. This was no place of indulgence; this was a sanctuary for warriors. 

As Sabbath, Athaan and the royals approached, the great oaken doors of the keep swung inward, revealing the Hall of Vigilance. Its vaulted ceiling seemed to scrape the heavens, adorned with banners representing Aegis' most storied victories. Serfs and Knights lined the walls just beyond the throne room, and at the end of the hall, seated upon a high-backed throne — it seemed more a seat of stone and duty than one of comfort — was Eilead, Duke of Aegis. 

He watched as they entered, his armor catching the sunlight filtering through stained glass, the air around him brimming with authority. He wasn't the King, but here, in House Aegis, he might as well have been.