The carriage, which had been traversing the winding countryside roads for hours, finally creaked to a halt at the outskirts of a small, unassuming village.
The carriage driver turned around, offering a nod before steering the horses back towards Agrah, the dust kicked up by their departure slowly settling back onto the ground.
Reina, stepped down from the carriage, feeling the ache in her muscles from the long journey. Her maid, Xenia, followed closely, her eyes scanning the village with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.
Matthew, the commander, and Lyra, were the last to alight, their movements fluid and purposeful, ever alert to potential threats.
The group quickly exchanged their fine clothes for plain, worn garments, hoping to blend in with the villagers. The transformation was striking; the luxurious silks and velvets were replaced by rough-spun wool and faded linen, the contrast a stark reminder of the dangerous times they were living in
