Sandoz stood beside his father, eyes wide in awe as he stared up at the towering gate before them. The massive twin towers flanking it stretched so high into the sky they seemed to scrape the clouds.
Two years ago, this road had been nothing more than a narrow, uneven path cutting through wild grasslands. He remembered bouncing on the saddle, his teeth rattling with every stone in the dirt. Back then, Calma had felt like a sleepy border town with little more than a few guard posts and the smell of sheep.
The road leading to the gate was paved now—smooth cobblestones arranged in an intricate pattern of interlocking diamond shaped bricks, polished by countless wheels and boots. Sunlight shimmered on their surface, as if the road itself had been enchanted. And the gate—it rose before them like the mouth of a colossus, flanked by two towers so tall they disappeared into the haze above.
