The carriage had stopped rocking. That was something.
Bedo, coachman for the Dawnoro family for thirty years, sat on his box and stared straight ahead at the queue leading to the teleportation gate. He tried very hard not to think about the muffled sounds he'd heard. The rhythmic creaking. The gasps.
Inside, the young lord was… occupied. With that beautiful blonde girl.
The queue moved forward. Ten minutes until the gate, maybe fifteen. Bedo had a decision to make.
Option one, proceed normally. Deliver them to the Athenaeum. Pretend he noticed nothing. The young master would appreciate the discretion.
Option two, stop now. Knock. Ask with professional neutrality whether they wished to continue by carriage or cross on foot. Give them privacy for whatever came next.
Thirty years of driving for the Dawnoros, and he had never been in a situation quite like this. He had heard fellow coachmen for other families telling him similar stories, but… well…
