The wind still blew in from the side, carrying the scent of dry dust and scorched earth. They kept walking forward, neither speeding up nor slowing down, as though creating an approach speed that could be freely adjusted for the conversation ahead, allowing each of them to reorient their current position and intentions whenever necessary.
Gravel crunched steadily beneath their feet, its rhythm unchanged by their pace. Ian still walked at the front, his gaze fixed on the outline of the distant city, maintaining the bearing of someone who had confirmed the destination but had yet to adjust his posture.
The footsteps behind him showed no change either, as if they were using the same rhythm to complete this approach, keeping their relative positions within a calibrated distance.
The outline of the distant city gradually became clearer. There were no flags on the walls, and the city gates were shut, as if waiting for their arrival before deciding whether to reopen this path to its core.
They continued forward. No one changed speed or direction, but they were now close enough for the people on the walls to see their approach clearly. The figures atop the walls began making slight adjustments and shifting positions, yet no one called out to question them before they reached the base of the wall.
Ian stopped directly in front of the gate, then raised his head and called up at the wall, "We're here to see Diana."
The figures on the wall did not answer immediately, but the city gate slowly began to open after a moment, releasing a dull scrape of metal. A hand gripping a spear emerged through the gap, its point angled downward, signaling vigilance rather than aggression. Then a lean, rugged-looking man in half-body leather armor stepped out and stood