The carriage creaked as it rolled over the uneven dirt path, the steady clopping of the horse's hooves the only sound cutting through the silence. Lara and Percival sat stiffly inside, their expressions unreadable, while Jethru guided the reins, leading them away from the village. The sun was beginning to dip westward, casting long shadows along the road.
Lara's mind was already racing, piecing together the fragments of information her Uncle Primo had shared earlier. Their maternal grandfather had been ensnared in a rival's scheme in Zamaya. To protect the family's honor, his youngest son, Primo, had shouldered the blame, accepting punishment in their place—a crime severe enough for banishment.
