The afternoon shadows lengthened across the grassy floor of the southern river valley, casting long, cool blue lines over the winding dirt track that led back toward the capital. Our horses moved at an easy, unhurried walk, their hooves stirring up the sweet, earthy fragrance of damp autumn soil and crushed clover.
There were one hundred and forty-five chapters remaining in the grand chronicle of our restoration—one hundred and forty-five distinct milestones of institutional reform, civic education, and balanced governance stretching out toward an unwritten horizon. But out here, surrounded by the quiet majesty of the lowlands, the immense weight of the capital felt wonderfully distant.
I rode a few paces ahead, my gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun was beginning to dip below the we
