The iron-rimmed oak wheels of the carriage groaned rhythmically as they traversed the ancient cobblestone streets leading to the southern gates of the capital, Sol-Regis. Here, there were no steam engines whistling in the distance, no glow of mana-electric lamps lining the shoulders of the road, and no hum of maglev speed to shorten the journey. There was only the traditional swaying of a carriage pulled by four of the finest pedigree horses, escorted by twenty elite knights of House Sudrath clad in efficient, dark nylon-magitech armor that stood out like a sore thumb against the medieval backdrop.
Inside the carriage's opulent cabin, Lucian Sudrath stared out of the window. The lush, rolling green landscapes of Aethelgard's Central Region were a stark, almost jarring contrast to the increasingly industrial skyline of Northreach. Here, time seemed to have frozen in a grand, stagnant Middle Age, oblivious to the technological revolution brewing in the North.
