Far from the frost-covered roads where Jolthar's party traveled, in the bustling city of Avyaburgh, a different sort of tension filled the air.
The paved streets were slick with winter rain, and the tall buildings cast long shadows across the narrow lanes. Through these winding paths, a modest carriage made its way toward the wealthy district, where grand mansions stood like sleeping giants behind high walls.
Inside the carriage, Lorryll sat beside his wife, Lilianna, his weathered hands clasped tightly together.
The events at the barony had changed him, aged him in ways that went beyond mere days.
"Are you certain about this?" she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the clatter of wheels on stone.
"You know how they feel about us. About me."
Lorryll reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Elara and Orimus are here. Whatever happened before, they're still family. Just trust me, I have a plan. We need to deal with Jolthar soon…"
