The sky to the east was showing the pale light of dawn, a sliver of morning light seeping through, signifying that daybreak was imminent.
The night's conversation drew to a close, and Sherlock, standing up, did not appear overly exhausted. He wrapped up the last topic with Richard, waved goodbye, and, lifting the still sleeping maid Lucia, walked toward the wagons downhill.
Before long, Sherlock led the caravan on their way once more, heading toward a distant special port, preparing to board a ship to the Main Continent.
Standing atop the Rocky Mountains, Richard watched Sherlock's caravan disappearing in the distance, deep in thought about the content of their nocturnal discussion.
He had to admit, according to what Sherlock had said, the Main Continent was attractive and a great destination, but... he could not go there just yet.
After all, he had very important matters to attend to and time was of the essence.
