Meanwhile, the Knight proceeded to walk toward the horse that stood nearby, its tail waving lazily. He grabbed the horse and mounted it, then turned the horse toward the other men behind him.
"Let's head to the city of Nimvy," he commanded decisively.
--- ---
On the forest road, a dark carriage, pulled by four horses, speeds along. Despite its rapid pace, the coachman relentlessly urges the horses onward, cracking his whip against the air.
Within the carriage, Lenon occupies one of the plush seats, his gaze fixed on the passing trees. He savors the comfort of the seat, the sensation of sinking into its softness unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.
Beside him sits Knight Mamon, his eyes closed as if seeking respite in the fleeting moments of freedom. At his side rests his sword, its hilt intertwined with Lenon's own blade, placed carefully against the seat. Between them, the two swords stand sentinel in the quiet confines of the carriage.
