After ten long days of travelling through the perilous and dreaded Dreadfang Mountains, the envoy of the Grand Duke finally emerged from the wild, untamed lands and crossed into the borders of Wyndham Territory.
Their journey had been unnervingly quiet, almost too quiet, not the haunting quiet, but the relaxing and enjoying the scenery quiet. No monsters attacked, and no beasts prowled the roads. The mountains, infamous for their bloodthirsty creatures, had parted for them as though they were just a breeze passing through.
The lands of Wyndham spread out before them like a different world. Rolling hills stretched beneath a pale sky, dotted with sturdy fortresses and ancient stone towers. It's a place that carried both the wild strength of the mountains and the dignity of civilization, perfectly reflecting the bloodline of its rulers.
