The sun was dipping low on the horizon when John's party finally passed through the grand gates of the City of Light. The familiar vista opened before him: alabaster domes and slender minarets catching the evening glow, streets bustling with life. In the distance, the repaired Grand Nexus hummed with arcane energy, its network of runic pylons now channeling power through the capital's wards, bringing light to homes and workshops. John felt a swell of pride at that sight—one of his first major accomplishments as Emperor had been to restore this lifeblood of the city.
As they cantered into the palace courtyard, servants and guards hurried to attend. John swung down from his saddle, travel-worn and aching in every muscle. He barely had time to hand off his reins when Rashid, the chief eunuch, appeared at the top of the marble steps. Clad in immaculate robes despite the late hour, Rashid rushed forward, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, welcome home," he said, relief evident in his eyes.
John clasped the older man's shoulder warmly, a gesture that made Rashid blink in surprise before smiling. "It's good to be back, Rashid," John said. "I trust all has been well in my absence?"
Rashid straightened, falling into step beside John as they headed into the palace. Safid peeled off to debrief the gate captain and ensure the weary soldiers were seen to. "The city runs smoothly, Sire, though all eagerly awaited your return. I took the liberty of preparing a hot bath and a meal; you must be exhausted," Rashid said.
Only now did John notice how grimy and bloodstained his travel clothes were. Weeks of road dust, a tear in his sleeve, dried blood (not all of it his) on his cloak. He looked more vagabond than Emperor at the moment. "A bath and meal sound heavenly," he admitted with a tired smile. "But first, give me the highlights. Anything pressing?"
Rashid hesitated a split second before replying, "Nothing dire, sire. Routine petitions, some minor trade delegations. Ah—though there is the matter of the visiting envoys from Qarthas due tomorrow."
"Qarthas?" John repeated, mentally rifling through his briefings. Qarthas was a neighboring kingdom beyond the eastern mountains—a realm known for its cavalry and rich farmlands. Historically, they had been rivals with the Empire, but tensions had cooled in recent years. This must be the diplomatic delegation he had arranged back in spring, finally arriving.
"Yes, Majesty. They have reached our border and should be here by midday tomorrow. They bring formal gifts and proposals of alliance, as I understand," Rashid reported. "The palace staff is making preparations for their welcome."
John nodded thoughtfully. An alliance with Qarthas could mean secure borders and increased trade—useful for the rebuilding and reforms he had in mind. But he also knew such envoys often came with their own agendas. "Very well. We'll receive them with full honors. Ensure the ministers are present. And thank you, Rashid, for handling things while I was away."
"It is my duty and joy to serve, Padishah," Rashid replied with genuine affection in his voice. The title he used—Padishah—felt less formal and more familial on his tongue, as if he were welcoming back a long-absent son.
John retired to his chambers where steaming baths awaited. As attendants scrubbed away the grime of travel, John closed his eyes and let himself relax for the first time in days. The hot water eased the knots in his muscles and washed off the dust and blood. He reflected on the journey—on Hamid's astonished face, the villagers' cheers, the rush of battle in the pass. Every ache he felt was earned tenfold by the good achieved.
Clean and refreshed, he dined simply on spiced rice and roasted lamb in his private dining hall. Rashid had tactfully kept the curious and the sycophants at bay tonight, allowing John a quiet return. For that the Emperor was grateful. Tomorrow would require all his focus for diplomacy.