"Alright, lad!" Girem shouted from the driver's bench, voice booming over the creaking wheels and rattling harness.
"Since ye brought me liquor and food like a proper passenger—let's move!"
The wagon jolted as it began rolling down the cobbled road, pulled by two thick-bodied camols with iron-plated hooves. Girem sat tall at the front, already uncorking the bottle Hazuki had bought and taking a heavy swig with a satisfied grunt.
Hazuki sat at the back, leaning against the wooden wall of the wagon bed. The supplies sat beside him—bread, meat, and a few wrapped bundles he didn't care to check.
The sun was still high, but the air had cooled as the road stretched out of the mountain town and into the hilly countryside.
He sighed, stretched out his legs, and pulled his cloak just a little higher over his eyes.
"Okay, old man. I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when we're near."
Girem didn't look back, just raised the bottle in mock salute.
"Aye. Sleep well, lad. You'll need it."
