A metal chariot rattled along the cobbled path leading toward Rosewood City, the creaking wheels struggling to keep pace with the powerful strides of the two bulls pulling it—one red, one black.
The city's entrance loomed ahead, bustling with a large crowd who held several flags with symbols.
The road was lined with merchants hawking their goods, children playing in the shadows of the trees, and travelers making their way into the vibrant heart of the city.
The air was thick with the scents of roasted meats and sweet pastries, mixed with the earthy aroma of the forest that surrounded the city.
Riding at the front of the chariot was a young man, round in stature with a face flushed. This was Fatty Ben, known to all by his affectionate nickname.
