The axles emitted a piercing groan as the bundled silks overflowed with the dazzling crimson gold from under the loose tarp, clearly the highest-grade Martrim silk from Falan.
A rear carriage was draped in canvas, yet the enameled corner of a holy grail peeked through the cracks.
Two shabbily dressed Norn prisoners were roped to the back of the cart, staggering along.
Riding past the convoy on horseback, Lacunio could only awkwardly avert his gaze when the eyes of the two slaves fell upon him.
These were fleets transporting Norn treasures. Like treasures from other clans, they would be packaged and sold off, exchanged for gold pounds and iron ore.
Although being perceived as a turncoat was uncomfortable, Lacunio had been saved by the Emperor, thus he was loyal to him, nothing to reproach.
Riding towards the camp, the image of a woman with her hair tied in a bun involuntarily flashed in Lacunio's mind.
