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[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171006/24e31a74a41e3846f8dcefceff2d00f6.png[/img][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171006/58135d4f2c76faece8c6fffd0f2487b4.png[/img]    [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171006/c3e0f8679a15604ff0043122232a27e2.png[/img]

[img]https://media.giphy.com/media/26vIdsU38Ysg9SawU/giphy.gif[/img]

[img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171006/7ae49293640f56363781e90d438c8244.png[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171006/ad873b3695bb62f3336fcc6c6c258508.png[/img]
[b]Location:[/b] Walls of London --> St. Albans
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	Fyror stared out the carriage window, watching as their surroundings progressively changed as they left the inner city of London behind. His thoughts deviated from his father's words of warning to the more important matter at hand. His already harsh features hardened as he thought about the grim situation that Millicent had found herself in. He was washed in tension and a fieriness came to his eyes at the mere thought of Lord Rutherford defiling her. He swore that he would not let that wretched man get away with this. Justice would be served, but the question was that would it be before or after Millicent lost her life. 

	Gerard's mind still wandered with worry although this time he was looking calmer than before. It just gets numbing at some point. In his mind he traced the roads, towns they will pass before they reach Nottingham, and after that. He kept recalling the events since yesterday, hoping that there could be any information, anything he might have missed at all that could prove helpful to their current mission. Would not really matter if it gave away anything useful, at least it gave him some bit of hope. And the more he did, his worry was slowly being replaced by vengeance. A woman like Millie doesn't deserve this kind of wickedness.

	Fryor pulled his attention back to the present. His gaze left the window, and he glanced over at Gerard before turning to rummage through his stuff. The irishman caught his glance, he too could see in his eyes the intensity. Fryor pulled out a map and deftly unfolded it. His eyes looked it over, and then he traced the path of the Great North Road with his finger. He shook his head. [color=DC143C]"Dammit. This route is going to send us too far east, and it will completely bypass Nottingham. Not that we would have any luck cutting them off at his home there. They're too far ahead of us. There has to be a quicker route,"[/color] he exclaimed in frustration. 

	The other man leaned just a little bit across the other seat, and took a look at the map. It was a little longer to process what he was seeing, carefully reading the words as best he can. His eyes first caught the words London, Nottingham where they were suppose to be headed after St. Albans a fair league towards Gretna green. Gerard agreed with him, at this point where they may already be too far ahead of them the Great North Road may not be the best route to take.
	
	[color=a2d39c]"We could go through heres."[/color] eyeing the route from the eastern side, he pointed the road that was bound for Manchester with some bit of uncertainty. [color=a2d39c]"Right after St Alban's. We could go pass Nottingham, and go forward towards M-."[/color] slightly tilting his head, he peered for some short seconds at the tiny words written on the map [color=a2d39c]" Manchester. I reckon we'll be quicker this way."[/color] he said. Going back to his position he looked over attentively to Fryor, [color=a2d39c]"What do you think sir?"[/color]

	Fyror's gaze followed to the area Gerard pointed out on the map. It was a Stage Coach Route that broke off of the Great North Road and headed straight for Manchester, completely bypassing Nottingham. After comparing the two routes, he came to the conclusion that it should very well buy them some time. [color=DC143C]"That should work splendidly, Mr. Connolly. It will certainly buy us some precious time. I will redirect our coach driver when we stop in St. Alban's to change horses,"[/color] he replied. He was pleased that things were looking up slightly. 

	The rest of the journey was exchanged with little words, and fortunately the short travel toward's St. Alban's with no problem.  As they neared the town Gerard still kept his eyes on the window, observing the scenery surrounding the small city. Soon enough their carriage came to stop at a Stage Coach Post in St. Alban's.