Chapter 8: Demonized
A magnificent carriage rolled steadily along the forest path, followed by six horses at the front and six at the back. Atop each horse sat a fully armored knight. Etched into their armor was a crest: a blazing phoenix rising above two crossed swords.
The pace of the convoy was constant — not too fast, not too slow — as the knights maintained a tight formation around the carriage, completely alert.
One of the knights at the front suddenly pulled on his reins, guiding his horse smoothly to the side of the carriage. The horse responded with perfect obedience.
"Your Lordship," the knight said without turning his head, his voice firm yet respectful, "we are a day away from the town of Ribest. If there are no disturbances, we'll arrive soon."
He didn't wait for a reply. With a quick tug of the reins, he galloped back into formation, taking his place at the front.
Inside the carriage, a man leaned back against crimson velvet cushions. He looked out of place admits the forest — he was the depiction of elegance. His long, white hair framed his sharp, noble face, and his deep eyes carried the weight of both boredom and disdain. Dressed in finely made black clothes embroidered with silver thread, he exuded pure authority and power.
"I can't believe we had to come to Ribest for this," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Couldn't we have simply summoned the Baron?"
His tone dripped with contempt, as if the very name of the town left a sour taste in his mouth. He glanced out the carriage window, watching the knights march onward. The very idea of setting foot in that backwater town was enough to sour his mood further.
"You shouldn't act in such a manner, you are a Duke," the old man inside the carriage responded. He flashed a smile at the man, as he ran his hand through his neck-length white hair.