The capital of Albion was called Camelot.
Nathan stepped out of the carriage and into chaos as they arrived.
The city was massive—far larger than Marriet. Stone walls rose high above, their surfaces carved with the crowned lion sigil of the royal family. Banners hung from every tower, crimson and gold, snapping in the morning wind. The streets were packed with people—merchants, travelers, adventurers, nobles in fine clothes, and commoners in rough wool. Horses pulled carts loaded with goods. Children ran between the legs of adults, laughing and shouting. Guards in shining armor patrolled the main thoroughfares, their spears gleaming in the sun.
It was alive, bustling and overwhelming.
Nathan took a breath and stepped aside, letting the other passengers disembark.
The two retired adventurers approached him first. The older one—the one who had headlocked the bandit leader—clapped him on the shoulder.
