The sun was already sinking when Gabriel reached the rise overlooking Bridgedon.
The town sat alongside the inland trade road, its stone walls rising against the fading sky. Watchtowers marked the perimeter, Church banners hanging stiff in the evening air. The sigil of Mazrian was carved deep into the stone, weathered but intact.
This was Vaelmir territory.
Gabriel slowed, eyes moving across the walls as he studied them. He noted the guard rotations, the sightlines, and the narrow stretch of road leading to the gate. Bridgedon wasn't large, but it had been built to endure.
The air cooled with the dying light, carrying woodsmoke and damp earth from the surrounding forest. Fires were being lit inside the walls as night settled in.
He pulled his hood lower as he descended the slope, shadow swallowing the faint red glow of his eyes. His boots crunched over gravel, each step measured. To anyone watching, he was just another traveller arriving late.
