Early the next morning, Myron returned with Cass and the others.
The middle-aged man looked refreshed, with a hint of wanting more on his face, but he had not neglected what needed doing.
The steward traveling with them had already packed everything neatly, and the convoy was ready to depart. Myron climbed into his carriage and beckoned to Loa. "Let's go, lad. The border checkpoint is just ahead."
The group continued south.
After about two hours, they could see the border checkpoint in the distance. A white stone wall stretched between two mountains-the Holy Union's final outpost.
The steward rode ahead to speak with the guards, presented the documents, and paid a customs duty. The heavy gates slowly opened, and the caravan filed through.
Beyond the checkpoint lay an open expanse.
The Three-Hundred-Li Battlefield Road-that was the name earned during the war between the Holy Union and the Dark Alliance. Though the ceasefire had lasted many years, the bones along this road had long since been buried in the earth, leaving only wild grass and scattered rocks. After the convoy traveled for most of the day, a streak of black finally appeared at the edge of their vision.
A black stone wall.
It stretched across the plain like an enormous black dragon, facing the distant streak of white behind them. Just as tall, just as massive, only a different color. Black and white, like two gigantic beasts crouched on this land, confronting each other.
"We're here," Myron's voice came from inside the carriage. "The Dark Alliance."
At this checkpoint, too, they spoke with the guards, presented their credentials, and paid. The black gates slowly opened, and the caravan entered.
Loa lifted the curtain and glanced outside.
The commander of the wall's defending troops was gesturing to a subordinate beside him.