The sun hung high, warming the streets as the Velari people slipped into their daily rhythm. Fruit sellers called out, fresh bread scented the air near the bakery, and the cries of boys selling newspapers echoed through the alleys. It was the familiar buzz of a city waking to another routine day.
But today, that routine was quietly interrupted by a convoy rolling through the streets. One by one, passersby looked up from their tasks, drawn to the rare sight of carriages marked with the Draven household crest. Whispers followed, each wondering what had stirred such commotion.
The convoy paid no mind. It passed through the outer gates with unwavering pace, leaving only questions in its wake.
At the center of the long procession was a striking carriage, built from polished whitewood and pulled by two muscular beasts with flowing crimson manes rippling in the wind. Inside, three people sat.
