The arcane-powered cart hummed softly as it wound its way through the streets of Drakoria, its destination a mystery to at least one of its passengers. Cassandra sat across from Zafron, contentedly munching on a stick of some exotic snack, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She had offered one to Zafron earlier, but he had politely declined.
'As tempting as it looks,' Zafron thought, eyeing the colorful treat, 'I'm pretty sure "don't eat your boss's snacks" is rule number one in the Guard's Handbook. Right after "try not to trip over your own feet while looking intimidating."'
He adjusted his crisp blue blazer, still not quite used to the feeling of such fine clothing. The black trousers Cassandra had given him when he started working were more comfortable than anything he'd ever owned. 'I look like I should be guarding a king,' he mused. 'Or at least a very fancy garden gnome.'
