[Eastern Zahryssar — Imperial Encampment — Later — Before the Hunt]
The imperial camp had already begun preparing for the rescue mission.
Knights sharpened blades beneath enchanted lanterns while desert mages reinforced protective seals around supply carriages. Horses hissed uneasily beneath the tense atmosphere, and somewhere deeper within the camp, commanders barked orders across the drifting sands.
Meanwhile, near the outer supply tents, Levin stood staring flatly at the two suspiciously familiar figures before him.
And both of them—very noticeably—were avoiding his eyes.
"…what exactly are you two doing here?" Levin asked.
Raviel immediately coughed awkwardly; beside him, Zyvera smiled with visible nervousness that somehow looked more suspicious than innocence itself.
Then Raviel bowed dramatically, far too dramatically. "I greet the glorious Malika of Zahryssar—moon of the empire, jewel among serpe—"
"Raviel," Levin interrupted flatly.
