Bain and Leon immediately readied the horses. Henry was only bringing two attendants this time; Vasco needed to remain at the garrison to watch over the soldiers.
This was a riding horse, not a warhorse. Henry leaped into the saddle, and with a light flick of his whip, the fine steed galloped out of the camp.
Bain and Leon followed, their figures fading in and out of the early morning mist, leaving only the sound of hoofbeats behind.
The buildings on either side of the street receded rapidly. He knew his destination well. To put it bluntly, Henry was more familiar with Lukaron than he was with Westwood Laine.
Henry also noticed that, compared to usual, the Security Teams were out in abnormally high frequency today. A patrol of fully equipped soldiers could be seen almost every hundred meters.
The soldiers' faces were etched with vigilance. This was clearly because the recent riots were still fresh in their minds, and they didn't dare to slack off in the slightest.
