As dawn approached, King Jethro and Smith continued their ride through the mystical borderlands of Griffo. The first light of morning painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The horses, still swift and steady, carried the riders toward the heart of the unknown.
The meadows, now bathed in the soft light of dawn, seemed to come alive with a gentle breeze. Flowers opened their petals to greet the sun, and the air carried the sweet fragrance of blooming blossoms. The journey, though urgent, unfolded against the backdrop of a tranquil dawn.
The ancient stones marking the border stood as silent sentinels, bearing witness to the passage of kings and emissaries alike. King Jethro, his eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and contemplation, guided his horse with a firm hand. Smith, ever vigilant, rode in tandem with the monarch, a guardian in the growing light.
