The sun hung low over the port city of Assab, casting long golden rays over the docks that now bustled with life. Once a ghost town choked by foreign exploiters, Assab now pulsed with renewed purpose. Fishermen shouted cheerfully over the splash of nets hitting the ocean. Children played with sticks and laughter. Ships bearing the crest of Nuri glided into the harbor like proud birds coming home.
Princess Azenet moved through the market, the scent of spiced lentils and dried fish wafting around her as she listened to the people's stories. A group of refugees sat near the shade of a torn sail converted into a makeshift tent.
"My son… they took him," a gaunt woman said, tears catching in the lines of her face. "But this prince… Khisa… he said he would find him. He gave me food and said I still mattered."
Another, an older man with missing teeth and cloudy eyes, nodded. "When no one would help us, he did. He doesn't walk like a prince. He walks like a brother."
