"Where are we going?" Morgana called out, her voice barely carrying over the wind.
Jaenor turned slightly, and when he spoke, his voice carried clearly despite the conditions—some trick of his merged power allowed him to project sound directly to his companions.
"Home. The true Arkwright seat. Drakenten."
Understanding rippled through the group.
Ba'narussa banked, adjusting their heading. Below, the landscape shifted—gentler farmland giving way to hillier terrain, forests growing thicker, and roads becoming less frequent. They were entering the southern territories, where civilization thinned and the wilderness reasserted itself.
After perhaps two hours of flight—a distance that would have taken days by horse—the duchy of Drakenten came into view.
The estate grounds were extensive—perhaps a hundred acres of walled land containing not just the main house but also stables, barracks, training yards, workshops, and numerous outbuildings that served the household's needs.
