Early in the morning—when the horizon was just beginning to blush with the first hints of light—we set out on our journey back to the duchy. I knew all too well that a carriage ride along these dismal roads would normally take at least two long days as the wheels creaked over ancient cobbles and winding dirt tracks.
Driven by urgency, I had little choice but to borrow Georg's prized horse, whose powerful strides and restless energy promised a sliver of hope for a shorter journey.
The chill of dawn mingled with the scent of wet earth and woodsmoke, and every breath of the cool air seemed to stir memories of both anticipation and dread.
Inside the carriage, Abelard, three wide-eyed children, Jacquetta, and Georg rode quietly, their subdued murmurs blending with the rhythmic clatter of the wheels. I had arranged for their protection with painstaking care, ensuring that no external threat would dare mar this expedition.
