At 4 PM, in the howling gale, a four-wheeled carriage set out from New Ross City, following the minor road outside the city, heading eastward.
The road was densely covered with horseshoe prints that led straight ahead, as if a large cavalry unit had just passed by not long before.
"Bishop Fole and his group have been on the road for quite a while, we must hasten our pace."
Inside the carriage, Marvin, holding a map of Wexford County, confirmed their direction was correct and then knocked on the carriage window.
Sitting in front of the carriage, fully exposed to the cold wind, Levin was bundled up in a thick cotton coat, his neck wrapped in a scarf, and wearing a cotton hat. Despite this, he was still shivering from the cold.
Thump, thump!
"Damn it, why is it always me driving the carriage?"
Hearing the knock, Levin grumbled in complaint, taking a swig of poor-quality brandy and whipped the reins hard.
"Let's go!"
