The guard slouched listlessly in a recess of the watchtower beside the gate, sheltering from the howling wind outside. He stared at the snow-covered road, shivering nonstop.
Who would want to stand guard at the gate in weather this cold? With all that snow coming down, was anyone really going to show up?
The guard reached for the flask beside him and took a sip. Then he instinctively looked ahead again-and froze.
What was that?
Amid the endless white stretching between earth and sky, the guard could see a strange black object traveling toward him along the road. It looked like the body of a carriage, but there were no horses pulling it. It also made an eerie rumbling noise that left him uneasy.
What on earth was that thing?
The guard nervously tightened his grip on his spear. His only consolation was that it did not look like a monster or some wild beast; at least he could see that it had wheels. But why could it travel across the ground without horses pulling it?
The strange carriage was far faster than the guard had imagined. In just a few breaths, it crossed the distant snowfield, reached the town's closed gates, and stopped.
Then the guard saw a door on its side slide open with a clatter, and a strangely dressed young man stepped out.
It was a person.
Once he had confirmed that, the guard finally relaxed completely. He quickly straightened up, leaned out, and called down.
"Who goes there! What brings you to Daggerford?"
"Hello."
The man looked up at the guard in the watchtower and smiled faintly. He was exceptionally handsome, the sort of person who made a good impression at first glance. Even the guard's affected gruffness and stern expression swiftly melted away.
"We're travelers.