And so his journey continued, the landscape was a monotonous, rolling ocean of grey.
There were no landmarks. No trees. No rivers. Just dune after dune of compacted ash that shifted underfoot like dry sugar.
Alfred knelt in the grit, examining a faint depression in the ground.
To the untrained eye, it was nothing.
To a Mage, it was devoid of information no mana signature to track, no elemental residue to analyze.
But Alfred was not just a Mage. He was the Head Butler of the Voss family. He had been trained in the a lot of other things, long before he had awakened his core.
"Weight distribution suggests a heavy stride," Alfred murmured, touching the edge of the footprint.
"The ash is compacted on the heel. He was carrying something heavy."
He stood up, pulling a silver pocket brush from his vest. He meticulously dusted the ash from his knees, frowning as a smudge remained on his trousers.
"Six hours ahead," Alfred calculated.
