The West Gate of Atiilio stood silent under flickering torches, casting long shadows against the sandstone walls. The city behind it was quiet—market stalls packed away, merchants and workers tucked into the underground residential districts. Beyond the gate stretched open land, dark and still, broken only by distant hills under the pale moonlight. It was past two in the morning, and the only sounds were shifting armor, scraping boots, and the city's low breath in its sleep. The West Gate, the so-called "backup gate," rarely saw action at this hour. That was why Elesa von Ruei stood there, spear in hand, her black eyes scanning the emptiness beyond.

Elesa looked exactly how she felt—tired and irritated. Her brown hair was a tangled mess, loose strands sticking to her forehead despite attempts to push them back. Her blue and white guard uniform was wrinkled, the stiffness of long wear making it even more uncomfortable in the cold. She leaned against her spear with a practiced slouch, shifting her weight to fight off the creeping stiffness in her legs. Night shifts weren’t her favorite—not because she feared the dark, but because standing still for hours left too much time to think. Thinking led to remembering, and remembering led to places she’d rather avoid. At least during the day, there were distractions. Here, under the watchful moon, she was left alone with her own thoughts, and she wasn’t particularly fond of their company.

With a sigh, she turned to her fellow guard, breaking the silence. "You know," she muttered, voice laced with exhaustion, "if one more idiot tries sneaking in like we’re not standing right here, I might just let them. If they’re dumb enough to think this is the easy way in, they deserve whatever trouble they find." She adjusted her grip on her spear, glancing at the shadows beyond the gate with a skeptical frown. "Then again… I wouldn’t mind a little excitement. Anything to keep me from freezing solid out here."