The May sunlight poured down like honey, warm and golden, drying the morning dew and warming the dust beneath their boots. Overhead, the red-tiled rooftops of the city gleamed in the light, a patchwork of memories and farewells. Guards in crimson-lined armor stood tall at the gates, eyes scanning the morning bustle. Merchants shouted deals as carts rattled over cobblestones, and a fresh breeze carried the scent of baked bread, leather, and horses.
Leo walked with a calm sense of purpose, his sword strapped at his side, the hilt catching the sun. Matthew, in contrast, swaggered like a man who owned the road, his new golden-lined blade swinging with each step like a proud declaration. He hadn't stopped bragging about it since yesterday, and he probably wouldn't stop until someone stole it, or he accidentally hit himself with it.
