A horse-drawn coach galloped down the rough patch street followed by a massive procession of knights.
Along the way, they passed across various merchant groups and townsfolk.
The sight immediately caught everyone's attention, and whispers spread like wildfire.
"That's the Veydrin insignia! But how?"
"Princess Adele just left. There's no way he'd come back, right?"
"Could it be Young Master Kael?"
Inside the coach, the air was suffocating. Chris, Baret, and Gare were too afraid to sit properly, their bodies trembling with unease. They weren't the only ones.
Ramos, sitting across from Kael, felt sweat drip down his back. His eyes darted to the young man in simple grey robes, silvery grey hair falling over his hollow gaze. But it wasn't his appearance that terrified him, it was the aura around him.
It was deep, unfathomable and sharp, emitting an immense murderous intent.
