The morning sun bathed the small town in a soft, golden hue, but Julius barely noticed as he leaned against the wall outside the inn, staring down at the ground.
His mind was far away, tangled in the thoughts that had plagued him since his last conversation with Maverick.
He was usually composed, confident, but today, an unfamiliar unease gnawed at him. He was dazed, lost in his own world, until the creak of the inn's door snapped him back to the present.
Maverick and Louis emerged together, the contrast between them stark. Louis looked pale, his face drawn and haggard, the aftereffects of a restless night evident in the way he moved gingerly, still nursing his back injury.
Maverick, on the other hand, was his usual composed self, standing tall and refreshed as if the events of the previous night hadn't touched him at all. His voice, calm and commanding, called for the carriage to be readied.
