The rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobbled stone echoed through Dunbrae's winding roads as Julian sat poised in his carriage, the grandeur of his presence amplified by the crimson and black regal ensemble he now wore. Across from him, Tomas—no longer cloaked in the humble guise of a traveler—adjusted the trim of his coat, his expression quietly alert.
They had just left Theodore's shop in the downtown district.
"Hello fellas," the rotund trader had greeted with a grin when they stepped inside.
"Aye, I remember ya," he said, squinting at Tomas. "The local traveler from the inn, ain't ya?"
Tomas had smiled politely. "A wonderful morning, kind sire."
Julian said nothing, choosing instead to lean silently against the carved wooden frame of the doorway, his presence drawing quiet awe from the shop's patrons—even if they didn't know who he truly was.
