The several-day journey home was uneventful.
Riding their Pegasi, Raylo and his party returned to Black Stone Town.
Even before they entered the town, a solemn atmosphere, entirely different from usual, washed over them.
At some point, a simple camp had been established outside the town. A dozen or so uniform white tents were arranged in neat rows, dotting the early spring meadow like white mushrooms.
Soldiers in Silver Chain Armor, armed with Long Spears or Crossbows, patrolled between the tents. Their steps were steady, their gazes fixed straight ahead.
Most striking was a clearing in a corner of the camp where nearly a hundred magnificent Pegasi were leisurely preening their feathers or lowering their heads to eat specially prepared feed.
Their snow-white wings were folded at their sides, occasionally stirring up a gentle breeze with a flick.
