The night was as dark as ink, and a gentle breeze brushed past the treetops in the courtyard, bringing a touch of coolness. Under the moonlight, the stone-paved path shimmered faintly, while distant lanterns swayed in the wind, resembling scattered stars.
Livia walked briskly out of the courtyard, her steps steady, yet unable to conceal the joy and excitement bubbling within her. However, just as she stepped down the stairs, a familiar figure blocked her path.
She halted, slightly startled, and looked up—Allen.
The black military uniform he wore appeared even more austere in the darkness. Gone was the relaxed demeanor he had shown earlier inside; now, he carried an air of composed authority. His cape fluttered lightly in the night breeze, and beneath his refined features lay a steely calm, the kind honed through years of battle. Livia had now recognized him—Allen, the general of the First Legion. Having him on her side today was perhaps her greatest fortune and support.
She immediatel
