The procession stretched from the gates of the Great Temple to the distant iron-bound doors of Lothian Manor like a river of silk and steel flowing downhill between the two fortresses that governed every aspect of life in the city that sprawled between them.
At the head of the column, mounted knights rode in pairs on horses whose coats had been brushed until they gleamed, their riders dressed in the finest clothing their families could afford. These weren't men riding to war, not yet at least, though rumors said that war was coming before the frost could melt.
