A month later, House Leo's carriage caravan slowly rolled out of the gates of the Imperial City.
Dozens of carriages lined up in a single file, their wheels rumbles heavily as they rolled over the stone-paved road.
The carriages were piled high with luggage and supplies, and the Thorn Crest of House Leo was clearly visible on their side panels.
Guard Knights in full armor controlled their mounts, forming two columns on either side of the caravan. Blake rode at the very front.
Behind them followed a massive retinue of servants.
A fine, light drizzle fell from the sky, gentle yet continuous.
Over the past month, the Imperial City had experienced several intermittent spells of rain.
The water level of the moat had restored to a level not seen in a decade. Tender green shoots of grass sprouted in the fields outside the city, and the refugees gathered at the city gates had mostly dispersed.
Ethan sat inside the carriage in the middle of the caravan, his back resting against a soft cushion.
Colin sat across from him, holding a biography of a knight. He flipped through a couple of pages, closed it, and stared blankly at the pattering rain outside the window.
Duke Leo and the Duchess sat in the lead carriage.
The caravan passed through the city gates and embarked on the official highway leading to House Leo's territory.
The highway was wet and slick under the rain. In the fields on both sides, a few farmers could occasionally be seen bending over to sow seeds. Under the gray sky, the earth was beginning to breathe once more.
Meanwhile, on the stargazing platform of the Imperial Palace, Julian stood by the edge of the railing, watching the slowly moving caravan in the distance.
“Your Majesty,” an old voice came from behind him. “The Leo family's caravan has already left the city.”
“What did Master Gal say?”
“The master said nothing. Since returning from the Leo Ducal Estate, he has locked himself inside his Wizard Tower and refuses to see anyone.”
“Sigh...”
At the same time, in the drawing room of the Windsor Ducal Estate, Duke Windsor stood by the window, his thin fingers tightly gripping the edge of the curtain. His high-cheekboned face looked even more gloomy in the dim light of the rainy day.
“They left?” his voice was very soft.
The butler behind him bowed and replied, “Yes, My Lord. House Leo's caravan has already left the Imperial City.”
Duke Windsor's fingers tightened further on the curtain. His lips quivered slightly, as if he were talking to himself, or perhaps to someone else.
“Gone.”
He let go of the curtain and turned around, his face reverting to its usual effeminate expression.
“Have the servants pack up those things in the estate. Clean up everything that shouldn't be left behind.”
“Yes, My Lord.”
In the study of the Natt Ducal Estate, Duke Natt sat in his chair, his obese body completely filling the seat. He repeatedly wiped the sweat from his forehead with a silk handkerchief. The tea on the desk had gone completely cold, untouched.
“Are they all gone?” he asked the butler standing behind him for the third time.
“Yes, My Lord, they have already left the city.”
Duke Natt flipped his handkerchief over and continued to wipe his sweat. “Good, good. It's good that they're gone.”
He picked up his teacup, his hand trembling so violently that some of the tea spilled onto the desk.
Duke Mindrow stood on the training grounds of his manor, rainwater trickling down his neatly trimmed goatee. He carried no umbrella and wore no raincoat, simply standing in the rain, gazing in the direction of the Imperial City's gates.
A young man ran out from under the corridor eaves and draped a cloak over his shoulders. “Father, you're getting soaked.”
Duke Mindrow did not move. He reached up, pulled the cloak tighter around himself, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.
“Remember today,” his voice was muffled by the sound of the rain.
The young man paused. “Remember what?”
“You... sigh...”
“Father?”
“You are not his equal.”
...
The carriage wheels rolled through puddles on the highway, kicking up small splashes of water.
Blake rode at the very front of the caravan, his plate armor covered in tiny beads of water.
He from time to time glanced back at the largest carriage in the middle of the caravan to check their pace.
The caravan moved very slowly.
Ten years ago, when Ethan returned to the territory from the Imperial City, it had only taken him three days.
Back then, he had traveled in a light carriage, swapping between two fast horses and riding day and night. But things were different now.
Dozens of carriages formed a long line, loaded with luggage, supplies, and all sorts of materials brought back from the ducal estate.
Behind them followed a massive retinue of servants. Those on foot wore crude raincoats made of oilcloth, trudging through the muddy highway with uneven steps.
There were elderly people in the group, as well as young maidservants who had never traveled far from home before.
They had to stop and rest after traveling only a short distance.
Colin fell asleep, woke up, and slept again. He would wake up and flip through his book, read a couple of pages, close it, and stare blankly out the window at the unchanging fields in utter boredom.
“Brother, aren't you bored?” Colin finally couldn't help but ask.
Ethan opened his eyes. “No.”
“But I'm dying of boredom.” Colin tossed the book aside. “There's not even anyone to talk to on this road.”
“Aren't you talking right now?”
Colin choked on his words, opening and closing his mouth, finding himself completely unable to refute that.
He snorted, leaned back against the cushion, and draped the book over his face.
The caravan traveled through the rain for two days.
On the morning of the third day, the rain stopped.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, shining down on the wet highway. The caravan's speed picked up slightly.
On the twentieth day, the caravan crossed the border into the Leo Ducal Domain.
Blake rode his horse up to Ethan's carriage and leaned down to tap on the window.
“Young Master, we have entered our territory.”
The carriage window slid open, and Ethan peered outside.
Large patches of tender green grass had sprouted in the fields on both sides of the highway, and the woods on the distant hillsides gleamed wetly after the rain.
A few farmers working in the fields saw the Thorn Crest on the carriages. They put down their farming tools and stood by the ridges, bowing deeply in respect.
On the evening of the twenty-second day, the caravan camped by a stream to rest.
Colin squatted by the stream, splashed cold water on his face, and stood up to shake the water droplets from his hair. He walked back to the carriage and saw Ethan standing outside, stretching his limbs.
“Brother, how much longer until we arrive?”
Ethan looked up at the distant horizon, his gaze sweeping over the surrounding terrain. “Seven days.”
Colin blinked. “How do you know?”
“You fool.”
“??? Brother, that's a personal attack!”
On the twenty-third day, the highway began to grow wider and smoother, and the farmlands on both sides became more orderly.
Occasionally, vast orchards and pastures came into view. Shepherds on horseback patrolled the grasslands. Seeing the Thorn Crest from afar, they would gallop over to ride alongside the caravan for a stretch. Once they confirmed that their lord had returned, they would wheel their horses around and head back to work.
On the twenty-fourth day, the caravan passed through the largest market town in the center of the territory.
When the residents of the town heard that the Duke had returned, they all flooded to the sides of the highway.
Some held freshly baked bread, others clutched newly picked fruit, and some stood under the eaves, standing on their tiptoes to peer inside the carriages.
Blake had to have the guard Knights form a human wall on both sides of the caravan to barely maintain order.
On the twenty-fifth day, the caravan entered the plains of the southern territory.
The wheat fields on both sides of the highway stretched as far as the eye could see. The wheat shoots had already grown knee-high, undulating in green waves under the wind.
Rate on N.U.
