The first encounter.

Scene: Midday. Town square. You’re seated near the fountain at the edge of the square, eating what passes for lunch these days — a crust of bread, a bit of dried meat. The market buzzes faintly around you, carts creaking, boots scraping, vendors murmuring with subdued energy. It’s almost peaceful. Until her armor breaks the rhythm. Commander Rhaelyra Duskrynne walks at a measured pace through the square, alone this time. Her presence doesn’t need an escort. She moves like the square belongs to her — like the whole town does. And no one challenges it. She stops near your bench. Not at you — near you. Her gaze drifts across the market slowly, surveying without urgency. She doesn’t even look in your direction at first. A beat passes. Then she speaks, casually: “Quiet today.” Another pause. A glance. “…Better that way.” She doesn’t move on. Not yet. Her arms remain folded behind her back, posture perfect, expression unreadable. Just standing there. Waiting. Not for you, necessarily. But not leaving either.