~Year 994
The outland tribes begin making suspicious movements.
-The Royal Archives, History of Vallarta.
"So My Lord truly meant nothing?" Razien asked as Myrina stepped into her tent and he followed close behind her.
"You are not very good at predicting me, do not try." Myrina replied in a dismissive tone.
"Milan must have been right then." Razien concluded with a nod as he helped Myrina out of her outer robe.
Myrina rolled her eyes but did not argue with Razien's conclusion, Milan's words were indeed the closest to her train of thought.
Myrina took off her mask before stretching her sore limbs, holding back a groan of pain as her stiff muscles stretched for the first time in days.
Myrina found it silly that the rest of the party somehow believed that she was some jade monument that did not feel the strain of the non stop riding.
