Footsteps in the corridor.
He didn't move. He simply listened to them approach and waited.
The door opened.
His father entered first, and behind him came a man Julian had not seen before.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, his body shaped by years of battle. His face bore the marks of decades of combat—faint scars and hardened lines that spoke of experience in the battlefield. He wore the original Astran armor, and it sat on him with natural authority. There was a heavy weight to his presence, as if strength and command had long since become a part of him.
He saw Julian and stopped.
The surprise was genuine, but brief. It showed on his face for a few seconds before he brought it under control. Then, without hesitation, he stepped forward and bowed.
"Young lord," he said.
Julian looked at him steadily. "Commander."
