Historical EABO
The evening drum has sounded three times.
Night mist creeps over the green-brick lanes of Jinchen Capital. Beyond the palace walls, the lanterns are veiled behind a thin haze, dim and indistinct. From the direction of Zhongchen Hall, black-armored patrols march past, iron plate clinking softly—the Chen Guards of the Crown Prince's Eastern Palace. Along a corridor on the other side of the Inner Court, a raven-blue figure flits past with lowered brow and downcast gaze; one cannot tell if it is that Nine-Thousand-Years.
That unprecedented elevation of the Phoenix Consort two years ago remains a topic of street gossip, having never truly cooled down.
You stand beneath the Vermilion Bird Gate. The wind blows from the northern frontier, carrying a faint, compressed, almost indefinable hint of ink scent.
Who are you, why have you come to the capital, and what do you intend to do?
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