THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR-Chapter 313: THE GATES OF THE CAPITAL

Dawn painted the sky in shades of pink and gold as the merchant caravan approached Valemir's outer walls. The mammoth fortifications stretched across the horizon, thirty feet high and said to be twice as thick, their ancient stones bearing the scars of centuries. Above them rose the city proper—a breathtaking marvel of architecture that made even the most seasoned travelers fall silent in awe.

Soaring white spires dominated the cityscape, reaching toward the heavens like gleaming fingers of stone. The rising sun caught their surfaces, transforming them into beacons of light visible for miles around. Between these magnificent structures wound the silver ribbons of numerous waterways, dividing the city into distinct districts connected by elegant arched bridges. In the distance, purple-hued mountains provided a dramatic backdrop to the imperial seat.

"Seven rivers, seven districts," Merchant Hassim explained as they joined the queue of travelers waiting for entry. "The ancients designed it that way—water and stone in perfect harmony."

David nodded appreciatively, though his focus had shifted to the more immediate concern of the checkpoint ahead. A steady stream of people funneled toward the massive gates, where guards in distinctive silver armor conducted inspections with methodical precision.

The armor itself was a marvel of craftsmanship—elegantly curved plates that seemed to flow like liquid metal, ornate without sacrificing functionality. Each breastplate bore the sun insignia of the Solarian Empire, a reminder of the authority these soldiers represented.

"Remember your stories," David murmured to Elara and Luna as their wagon inched forward. "We're simple merchants from the Eastern Provinces seeking to establish new trade connections."

Elara adjusted her plain headscarf, a necessary concession to her disguise. The simple garment seemed at odds with her natural bearing, but she had practiced diligently during their journey.

"I remember," she replied, deliberately adopting the slight accent they had rehearsed. "Though I still don't see why I couldn't be a scholar instead of a merchant's wife."

"Scholars attract attention," Litty responded quietly. "Questions about your field of study, your academy of training—complications we don't need."

The wagon lurched forward again, bringing them closer to the gates. Around them, other travelers shifted nervously or reviewed their documents. Border crossings always created a particular kind of tension—even those with nothing to hide felt the weight of official scrutiny.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

"Hassim's caravan has passed through dozens of times," David reassured them, though his eyes remained watchful. "The arrangements have been made."

When their turn finally came, four guards approached their wagon. Their armor caught the morning light, the elaborate silver plates shifting with each movement in a hypnotic display. Three began a standard inspection of the cargo area, while the fourth—a sharp-eyed woman with a sergeant's insignia—approached the passenger compartment.

"Documents," she requested, her tone neither friendly nor hostile—simply official.

Merchant Hassim handled the initial exchange, presenting travel permits and cargo manifests with practiced ease. "Regular shipment, Sergeant. Spices from the Eastern Provinces, textiles from the Southern Isles, the usual assortment."

The sergeant nodded, reviewing the papers with methodical attention before turning her gaze to the passengers. "Purpose in Valemir?"

"Trade negotiations," David replied smoothly, offering the forged documents Litty had prepared. "Seeking new buyers for our family's crop business."

The sergeant accepted the papers, her eyes scanning them briefly before shifting to study each passenger in turn. When her gaze landed on Elara, she paused, a slight furrow appearing between her brows.

"You. Step down please," she instructed, gesturing to Elara.

David felt a ripple of concern but maintained his neutral expression as Elara complied, descending from the wagon with careful attention to her posture—not too straight, not too refined. It was a convincing performance, but something had caught the sergeant's attention.

"Your accent," the guard said, circling Elara slowly. "Eastern Provinces, you claim?"

"Yes," Elara confirmed, her voice steady despite the scrutiny. "Born and raised in Meridian Township."

The sergeant's eyes narrowed. "Curious. Your bearing suggests formal training. Not common among provincial merchants."

David felt a subtle stirring against his leg—a cool ripple of movement within his own shadow. A soft, almost childlike voice whispered from the darkness, audible only to him.

"Does Master need Vespera's help?" The voice carried a playful lilt despite the tense situation. "These guards are being quite rude to your friends."

David gave an imperceptible nod, keeping his eyes fixed on the interaction between Elara and the guard. "I would appreciate some assistance," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

A soft giggle emanated from his shadow. "As you wish."

The sergeant had stepped closer to Elara, her suspicion evident. "Remove your headscarf. I want to see—"

She never finished the sentence. The guard's eyes suddenly unfocused, her stern expression softening into something distant and dreamy. She swayed slightly, as if caught in a pleasant memory or fantasy, her gaze now looking through Elara rather than at her.

David felt Vespera's power rippling outward from his shadow—a subtle, yet mesmerizing, manipulation of perception that affected not just the sergeant but also the nearby guards as well.

It wasn't mind control in the crude sense, but rather an exquisitely gentle redirection of attention and interest—like guiding someone into an enchanting daydream they didn't wish to leave.

"Everything appears to be in order," the sergeant stated after a long moment, her voice slightly distant. She handed the documents back to David without looking at them again. "Welcome to Valemir. Keep to the merchant districts unless you have specific business elsewhere."

"Thank you, Sergeant," David replied, accepting the papers. "We appreciate your diligence."

The woman nodded vaguely, already turning toward the next wagon in line, the suspicious moment completely forgotten.

As they proceeded through the massive gates, David felt Vespera settle back into his shadow, her presence warm with satisfaction. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Always happy to help master," came the faint reply, followed by another soft giggle before her presence faded into dormancy once more.

Luna caught his eye with a knowing look but said nothing. Some secrets were best kept between as few people as possible.