They didn't enter as conquerors, though the gold embroidery on their cloaks suggested otherwise. They entered as ghosts returned to the flesh.
The air in Aethelgard didn’t just smell of pine and hearthfire anymore; it smelled of victory. [S4E33] A Golden Homecoming
"Look at that," Elara whispered beside him, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword that had seen far too much blood. "It’s exactly how you described it." They didn't enter as conquerors, though the gold
As they descended, the silence of the ridge gave way to the symphony of home. The distant lowing of cattle. The rhythmic clink-clink of the blacksmith’s hammer. And then, the sound that broke him: a bell. Not the frantic alarm of a raid, but the steady, jubilant tolling of the Homecoming chime. "Look at that," Elara whispered beside him, her
They reached the center square just as the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the entire world a bruised, beautiful purple. Kaelen’s mother stood by the well. She looked older, her hair a silver frost, but her eyes were the same fierce emeralds he’d carried in his memory through every cold night in the trenches.
"The harvest is in, Kaelen," she whispered into his shoulder.