The silence after Kaelen's first step was a held breath. Then, like a stone dropped into a still pond, the order rippled through the column. Not with shouted commands or trumpet blasts, but with the subtle, unified language of a unit that had moved together for years. Reins were gathered. Boots found stirrups. The soft jingle of bit and bridle became a steady, metallic whisper.
Kaelen's black destrier moved from a halt into a smooth, ground-eating walk. Damien fell in beside him, a half-length behind. The knights, in two disciplined lines, followed suit. The supply wagon creaked into motion, its heavy wheels crunching gravel.
Elara nudged Nimbus forward, her face set in a smile of pure anticipation. I touched my heels to Mist's sides. The mare responded instantly, stepping out with a steady, confident gait that carried me away from the stone portico, across the wide expanse of the courtyard, toward the great arched gate.
