The carriage rolled to a stop with a lurch.
Alaric pushed the door open and stepped down into the late afternoon air. His boots hit cobblestone with a solid thud, and he paused for a moment, taking in his surroundings.
Thornhaven.
The town sprawled before him was larger than Millcrest, more prosperous than Riverside.
Stone buildings rose two and three stories high, their facades decorated with iron flourishes and painted shutters. The streets were wide, well-maintained, bustling with activity even as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.
Wagons hauled goods toward the market district. A group of children ran past, laughing, chasing a small dog that yapped excitedly.
Alaric adjusted his coat and started walking.
Lord Rothgar's estate was on the northern edge of town.
His eyes scanned the street as he walked, cataloging details. A bookshop with its door propped. An apothecary with jars of colored liquid displayed in the window like jewels.
And there—
