Chapter 446 Situation of Thornvale [1]
One of the soldiers stepped forward from the ranks—tall, broad-shouldered, with a steel breastplate that gleamed faintly in the late morning light. He removed his helmet as he approached, revealing a square jaw, cropped black hair, and sharp eyes that betrayed experience.
He stopped a respectful distance from Michael, then offered a crisp salute.
"My lord," he said, voice deep and clear. "Knight-Captain Roran. I’ve been assigned to command your escort unit."
Michael nodded once.
Roran hesitated for a second, then continued, "If I may, would you like me to send a rider ahead to the manor? We could have them prepare to receive you. It’s customary, especially for newly appointed nobles arriving to claim their seat."
Michael arched a brow, folding his arms across his chest.
"Is that how it’s usually done?"
Roran gave a slight nod. "Yes, my lord. At least, in most territories. A bit of ceremony helps remind the people who they’re serving."
Michael glanced toward the winding path that led into the trees. A part of him considered it—it would make sense to be welcomed formally.
But another part of him... hesitated.
He turned his gaze back to the land. The fields, the hills, the distant haze of smoke from a village in the far west. This place didn’t need a parade.
"No," Michael said finally. "Let’s not."