The cool evening air greeted me as I stepped out of the palace, its crispness carrying a faint bite that cut through the lingering tension of the dining hall. The arcane carriage stood ready at the base of the grand staircase, its runes glowing faintly, illuminating the surrounding darkness with a soft, rhythmic pulse. Its craftsmanship was impeccable, a blend of arcane innovation and regal design—a moving fortress disguised as luxury.
Alfred was there, of course. Ever punctual, ever efficient. He stood by the carriage, his posture flawless, his expression calm yet vigilant. The faintest incline of his head acknowledged my presence. "The items you requested have been prepared, my lord," he said, his voice carrying the usual blend of deference and professionalism.
