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The following morning began before sunrise.

By the time Ernest's carriage departed Oriel Estate, the eastern horizon was only beginning to brighten beneath a blanket of pale grey clouds. Morning mist clung stubbornly to the fields surrounding Helmarte while the roads remained quiet except for farmers heading toward their land and merchants preparing their wagons for another day of trade.

Beside him, Hollen looked remarkably unhappy to be awake.

"This had better be important."

Ernest glanced at him.

"It is important."

"You say that every time."

"Because every time it is."

The older man crossed his arms.

"I miss the days when important meant deciding what scent to add to soap."

"Those days ended approximately three years ago."

"Unfortunately."

The carriage rolled onward.