Their journey to Asten had begun favorably, and by the end of the first day, they were already out of the Capital. And as they prepared to come to a stop to rest for the night, one of the men had ridden ahead to prepare an inn for the procession of carriages.
However, due to the proximity of the inn to the Capital, as well as a festival happening in the environs, finding an inn with enough rooms to accommodate them all proved trying. So just as the carriage slowed to a stop, there was a knock on the side of the carriage.
Silvan opened his side of the carriage to listen to the coachman, who had tried to get his attention.
"I apologize, Your Highness," He said contritely, visibly distressed. "But we seem to have run into some trouble while sourcing an inn. The only inn that can currently accept a group this size only has a single quality room."
Silvan's blue-green eyes gleamed at the coachman's words, his expression composed. "We'll make do." He said flatly.
