The air near the carriage courtyard was thick with the scent of damp gravel and polished leather. Servants moved quietly around the grand royal carriage, lifting heavy, silver-bound wooden trunks and loading them onto the racks.
Standing a few paces back from the commotion, Philia kept his spine perfectly straight, his pale blue velvet coat immaculate against the grey stone backdrop of the palace wing. Beside him, Valen was carefully inspecting a small, velvet-lined wooden chest that two footmen were holding with delicate hands.
"Be exceptionally gentle with those," Valen instructed, his voice low but sharp enough to command immediate obedience. "The glass vials inside contain delicate medicinal tonic. If so much as one bottle cracks on the cobblestones, you will answer to me directly."
The footmen offered swift, nervous nods before lifting the chest into the interior storage compartment with exaggerated care.
