Dusk.
The skies above the capital of Eldoria had turned a bruised orange, casting long, dramatic shadows through the iron spires of the city's towering walls.
At the massive front gates, two guardsmen leaned against their halberds, letting out a wide yawn. It had been a quiet shift; the kind of boring afternoon that made a man look forward to a warm tavern and a heavy pint of ale.
Then, breaking the silence was the steady clatter of hooves echoing down the cobblestone road. Squinting through the haze, one of the guardsmen saw a red carriage, moving at an unhurried pace.
He recognized that carriage. It belonged to the F-rank adventurers he had given a warning to earlier that morning before they departed for the outskirts.
The carriage slowly pulled to a halt right at the threshold of the gate. Isabel leaned out from the driver's box, her hands still steady on the reins, though her face carried the weight of a hundred lifetimes.
