The grand procession through the city was nothing short of a spectacle.
Ryan, mounted on his steed, led the entourage through the crowded streets toward the palace. His expression was grim, his mind heavy with the weight of the king's orders.
Behind him, the guards rode in formation, their armor gleaming under the midday sun, a stark contrast to the grim mood that hung over the group.
The streets, once bustling with joy, now seemed like a spectacle of scorn.
The people who lined the paths had not forgotten their resentment for the prince who had been taken from them. As Eric was led through the streets in chains, rotten vegetables, fruit, and even mud were hurled at him.
The prince's once proud demeanor was now a thing of the past, replaced by a hunched posture as he absorbed the insults from the crowd. His eyes were cast downward, the flickering defiance that Ryan had once seen in him now dimmed by the public humiliation.
