The journey to his final destination was a solitary one, marked by the rhythmic clatter of hooves on a dirt road and the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. Lucian had chosen not to travel in grandeur; there were no banners fluttering in the wind, no elite guards flanking him on either side. He rode alone, a single rider with a few bags packed and a weary, thoughtful gaze fixed on the horizon.
He wanted no fanfare, no final displays of power. This was a journey meant to end the long chapter of his life that had been dedicated to the empire and its ceaseless demands. Now, he sought the quietude that had always eluded him—the stillness of a life without the weight of crowns or the blood of enemies staining his hands.