The next day, at the crack of dawn.
Beside the great road outside the gates of the Royal Capital, Velin pulled on the reins, turning to look back at his guards.
He took a heavy coin purse from within his coat and tossed it to the Captain of the Guard in the lead.
"Here are twenty Golden Suns. You will return by land."
Velin's voice carried an authority that brooked no argument.
"Don't spare any expense on the journey. Ensure both the men and the cargo arrive safely at the Grey Marsh Territory."
"But, my lord, your safety…" The Captain clutched the coin purse, a troubled look on his face.
Velin waved his hand dismissively.
"I'm traveling by air."
A low growl rumbled deep in the throat of Nefarian beneath him, as if in response to his words.
The next second, its enormous, sky-blotting wings unfurled with a deafening boom!
WHOOSH—!
