The morning air was crisp, biting with the edge of a northern autumn that hadn't yet surrendered to the sun. After Conrad had departed the headquarters with the hollow-eyed, dazed expression of a man whose entire worldview had been shattered and reconstructed in a single night, the atmosphere in the stone house shifted. The theoretical was over; the mission was now physical.
Duke Maximilian stood by the hearth, cinching his leather riding gloves. He looked at Evelina, his gaze softening with a fatherly concern that he rarely showed to his own soldiers.
"We should take the carriage, Evelina," the Duke suggested, gesturing toward the courtyard where the heavy, iron-shod Valerius carriage stood waiting. "The terrain near the forest is rough and the riverbanks are slick with mud and salt. Your health is still fragile and I'd rather not explain to my wife why I let you collapse in a forest."
