A strange smell wafted inside and outside the carriage, and a civil servant finally couldn't help but retch audibly.
Another carriage even tipped over in panic, spilling loosely sealed potions and fuel from its cargo.
Astha heard the horn of the personal guard ahead ordering the road to be cleared. It seemed today was the fifth stop.
He did not speak. He merely gently lowered the curtain, his eyelids drooped, his fingertips slightly clenched.
The Northern Territory was far more ruined than he imagined. This was not a land needing 'governance,' but a scorched earth left from destruction.
Astha had long known the war at the Nest was brutally fought, yet he had never anticipated it to be this severe.
This territory did not resemble a living domain but rather a desperate land forsaken by God.
The cold wind seeped through cracks into the carriage, he instinctively tugged at his cloak, yet his fingertips remained icy.
He realized his fingers were actually trembling slightly.
