While the Trial brewed within the grand walls of the Castle, a different scene had begun to play at the opposite side of the Castle.
Deep within the Capital where the sun's rays refused to touch. The Neighbor District.
A neighbouring street to the Infamous Backward District, and the main path, West of the Main Market.
And in front of it, a carriage of withered gold and peeled silver.
A symbol of the dignified stork was plastered on the side of it, though years of lack of maintenance had begun to pry it of its dignity.
Now, what lay left was a dimly colored bird.
Two horses were clasped tightly to it, and the Coachman, a man in the Imperial Guard armour, with a diamond Chest plate, held their reins dutifully.
He had been lost in thought for a while. After all, none of the orders given to him by the leader of the faction he chose to follow had made sense.
