The carriage itself had been nothing more than a finely crafted vehicle before I applied my touch. Now, its wheels glided over the uneven terrain as if it were floating on air, the shocks absorbing every bump and jolt effortlessly. I had strengthened the wood of the frame, using abination of alchemical reagents and magic circles imbued deep within the structure.


    The cushions were infused withfort spells, their plushness adjusting automatically to the body weight and posture of anyone who sat in them. Even the ambient temperature inside the carriage was controlled, ensuring that neither heat nor cold could disturb the ride.


    Vera and Modric sat across from me, their faces illuminated by the faint glow of the magicalnterns hanging from the carriage ceiling. Modric, despite his strong and stoic appearance, was fighting a losing battle with thefort of the ride. His eyes were half-lidded, his body sinking further into the seat with each passing moment.


    I could see the signs clearly—his resistance was crumbling, and it wouldn''t be long before the plush cushions imed their victory. Sure enough, after a few minutes, his head lolled to the side, and he was fast asleep, his breath slow and deep.


    Vera, however, was more of a challenge.


    She was trying hard to maintain herposure, stealing nces at me when she thought I wasn''t paying attention. Her gaze would flicker toward me, then dart away, only to return a few secondster. It was amusing to watch, though I gave no indication that I noticed her efforts.


    I kept my own posture rxed, leaning slightly back against the seat, letting the motion of the carriage rock us through the tranquilndscape.


    Inwardly, I began my assessment of her, much like I would when studying a new artifact or magical item. Vera, leader of the Crown Cavaliers, was an enigma in many ways. She waspetent, certainly—her reputation spoke of a woman capable of leading men into battle and carrying out the Queen''s orders without hesitation.


    Yet there were subtle tells in her demeanor, little cracks in her facade that suggested she hadn''t earned her position purely through skill.


    Her hands, resting tensely on her knees, were finely manicured, and though she bore a warrior''s callouses, they were light—too light for someone who had seen real, gruelingbat. Her movements, while disciplined,cked the fluidity of someone truly in tune with their body''s capabilities.


    She had likely been trained from an early age, but her advancement to leadership had more to do with her family''s influence than with her own abilities. I could tell by the way she held herself—proud but ovepensating—that she was constantly aware of the weight of her title.


    Still, her potential was undeniable. With time, she might hone those raw edges and be the leader she was meant to be. But for now, her status as the Queen''s favored soldier came from her bloodline more than from her experience. I''d wager that her actualbat skills didn''t hold a candle to Sophie Icevern, my fiancée and one of the most dangerous women I knew.


    Sophie had earned her prowess through blood and fire; Vera had yet to face such trials.


    Modric, on the other hand, was a different story. Even in his unconscious state, his body was coiled like a spring, his hand resting loosely near the hilt of his sword—a man always ready for action. His scars, though mostly hidden, spoke of countless battles, and his muscles moved beneath his armor with an ease that only came from years of constant training.


    Modric was a true warrior, capable of great feats of strength and endurance, though his brashness made him predictable. He''d charge headfirst into a fight without thinking, which, in the right situation, could be useful. But it also meant that he was susceptible to maniption.


    Their weapons, too, told their own stories. Vera''s sword, resting against her side, was well-maintained but lightly used. The hilt showed minimal wear, and the de itself, though sharp,cked the chips and scratches that came with hard, repeated use. Modric''s sword, by contrast, was practically an extension of his body—well-worn and battle-hardened.


    The grip was molded to his hand, the leather worn smooth where his fingers would tighten in the heat ofbat.


    I allowed a small smile to flicker across my lips as I shifted my gaze back to Vera, who was once again ncing at me, her eyes lingering a moment too long. She quickly looked away, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly, as if embarrassed at being caught.


    "You''re trying very hard not to yawn," I remarked casually, my voice cutting through thefortable silence of the carriage. Vera stiffened slightly, her hands tightening their grip on her knees.


    "I''m not tired," she replied, though the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her. She shifted in her seat, adjusting her posture to appear more alert, but the subtle pull at the corners of her lips told me otherwise. She was exhausted, but too proud to admit it.


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    I tilted my head, watching her for a moment longer. "It''s fine if you want to sleep," I said, my tone even and nonchnt. "This carriage was designed forfort, after all."


    Vera nced up at me, her eyes wide, as though she hadn''t expected the offer. She hesitated, then shook her head. "I''m fine, really."


    Her words were polite, but I could see the faint tension in her shoulders, the way she was fighting to keep her eyelids from drooping. The silence returned for a few moments, the steady rhythm of the carriage''s wheels the only sound filling the space. I waited, letting the moment stretch just a little longer, before breaking it once again.


    "Are you curious," I began, "about why this carriage is sofortable?"


    This time, Vera''s interest was piqued. Her head tilted slightly, and she nodded, though she kept her expression carefullyposed. "I was wondering," she admitted, her voice softer now. "It''s… unlike anything I''ve experienced."


    I smiled, a small, knowing smile that made her visibly tense. "It''s because of the enhancements I made. This carriage, like everything in my possession, has been improved and upgraded through careful application of magic and… other means."


    Vera''s eyes widened slightly. "You… did this yourself?"


    I nodded. "Of course. This is my carriage, after all. Every detail was designed with purpose, every spell carefully chosen to provide the perfect bnce offort and efficiency. The wheels are reinforced with a cushioning spell that absorbs impact. The wood has been treated with alchemical elixirs to strengthen it against wear.


    Even the air inside is controlled through a series of small, interwoven enchantments that maintain the ideal temperature."


    Her mouth opened slightly in surprise. "And you did all of that… alone?"


    "Yes," I said simply. "It''s a hobby of mine."


    She blinked, clearly taken aback by the idea that someone like me—someone she had likely heard terrifying stories about—would take the time to perfect something as mundane as a carriage. Her expression softened, just a fraction, as if she were seeing me in a new light.


    "I had no idea," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "The people… they always talk about you. I didn''t think…"


    I raised an eyebrow, watching as she trailed off, her cheeks flushing again. Her guard was slipping, and I could see the cracks in her armor. She wasn''t the unshakable leader of the Crown Cavaliers right now. She was simply a young woman, caught off guard by something she didn''t understand.


    She makes me remember the children I raised, lectured, and guided, in my former life.


    The long lost former life of Dravis Granger.


    "The voices of the people aren''t always wrong," I said quietly, my gaze holding hers. For a moment, her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.


    Then she smiled, a small, genuine smile that seemed almost out of ce on her usually serious face. "As expected," she said softly. "The rumors about you aren''t entirely false, after all."


    Her words hung in the air, and for a brief moment, I felt something stir—a connection, perhaps. But I quickly squashed the thought. This was a dangerous game, one I couldn''t afford to lose control of.


    "We''re almost there," I said, my voice returning to its usual indifferent tone. I nced out the window, the familiar outlines of the capital''s towersing into view on the horizon.