Nathan turned toward the commotion ahead alongside Ayaka and Akane, his disguised eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation with practiced efficiency.
"Fuck off, you treacherous samurais! Hail Princess Haruka!"
"What did you just say, you insolent punk?!"
A confrontation had broken out between a civilian—a young man, perhaps seventeen, wearing a merchant's apprentice apron—and a figure clad in armor that immediately caught Nathan's attention.
It was distinctly different from the Kastorian knights' equipment Nathan had grown familiar with over his visits. Where Kastoria's soldiers wore armor that was disciplined, functional, designed for coordinated military formations, this man's armor was flashier, more individually ornate—thick red lacquered plates layered in overlapping patterns, clearly designed to broadcast status as much as protect the wearer. A katana hung at his hip, and the way he wore it suggested he considered himself firmly above the crowd surrounding him.
