The wooden carriage, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship carved from resilient Ironwood, glided with a sublime, almost haunting smoothness across the surface of a gargantuan root. This root, which served as the primary highway leading into the heart of the kingdom, had been weathered and polished over centuries until it was as level and seamless as a paved road on Earth. But unlike the jarring vibrations of a asphalt street, there was a strange, rhythmic elasticity to the ground beneath them.
There were no deafening roars of internal combustion engines, no rhythmic thumping of pistons, and no nauseating smell of burnt diesel. Instead, the only soundtrack to their journey was the melodic rustle of the mountain wind passing through the heavy silk cloaks of the Paladin escort and the occasional, crystalline chime of organic harnesses made from braided silver-vine.
