The low rumble of wagon wheels echoed through the forest, a sound as steady as a heartbeat. The traders' caravan moved in measured silence, its dark silhouettes stark against the pale light of the moon. Massive wagon covered with tarps brimming with unknown cargo creaked along the uneven trail, pulled by muscular horses adorned with iron-plated harnesses. At the front, astride a proud black steed, rode Lord Kain Vyral.
Kain's eyes gleamed beneath the brim of his wide hat, his sharp features lit by the dim glow of lanterns hung from the wagons. His air was one of calculated ease, a man in his mid-fourties, both comfortable in his authority and wary of the world. Behind him, his entourage—a mix of seasoned merchants and younger assistants—exchanged hushed words, their voices swallowed by the vast forest that enveloped them.
