The streets had already begun to funnel people toward the main square when they left.
Aela walked briskly ahead, Orryn holding her hand, while Melo skipped until she got tired and reached up for Devvyn. He lifted her onto his shoulders, her legs dangling against his chest, and together they joined the crowd.
By the time they reached the square, it was already packed—an ocean of faces pressed shoulder to shoulder. Vendors had abandoned their stalls, and children clutched their mothers' skirts, wide-eyed at the spectacle. All around the edges of the square stood lines of guards. City guards in iron-gray tunics and, behind them, the Bloodbound in their crimson armor.
Whispers rippled through the mass of people as eyes darted between the two military groups. The city guards were a familiar sight, but the Bloodbound rarely left the barracks unless things were dire. Some muttered that it meant war was coming. Others said the Highlords wanted to make sure no one dared speak out of turn. Either way, the weight of that crimson armor made the square feel smaller and tighter, like a cage.