Lorenzo leaned against the window, propping his head with his hand, and his gaze drifted outside, admiring the monotonous and repetitive scenery.
The pitch-black night and the relentless snowstorm completely obscured the stars. Apart from a chaotic darkness and the faint reflection of his own cheek in the window, he saw nothing else.
Retracting his gaze, everything inside the carriage was also familiar. This was the same train Lorenzo took when he first went to the Reindona port to fulfill a commission from the Viking nations.
The interior of the carriage was quite luxurious. Accompanied by the swaying of the carriage, the bottles in the cabinet lightly clinked against each other, producing a series of crisp sounds.
Lorenzo sighed helplessly; everything now was very similar to when he went to Gaulunaro.
