Devlin climbed in across from Jocelynn and pulled the door shut. The carriage lurched into motion, and for a while, neither of them spoke. Rain drummed on the roof while outside the windows, the city moved past in grey smears of stone and lamplight.
The route between the Great Temple and Lothian Manor was filled with people making preparations for the coming Grand Ceremony. The common folk were preparing banners of blue and yellow to honor their fallen lord along with the ascension of the next one.
A number of alehouses were already setting up awnings and outdoor tables, expecting revelers would overflow their smaller taprooms once the morning funeral gave way to the afternoon's wedding celebrations.
In the street, children darted between workers, playing with sticks as though they were swords.
"I'm Owain Lothian," one child shouted, holding up a stick in two hands and striking a heroic pose. "No demon can defeat me! Who will fight at my side?"
