The procession from the castle was a lovely display of royal wealth and a source of joy and gossip for the citizenry of Allamanthe. All but one, who did her best to smile, and broke down into tears the minute the city gates closed behind them.

From that point the journey dragged on without incident, most of Aurelia's time spent chatting distantly with her chief handmaiden Willa, discussing everything under the sun with the Firthian emissary for [i]some[/i] reason and staring longingly out at the countryside, drinking in every peaceful, sun-soaked detail. She had an image in her mind of Sommerfirth as a scorched and barren wasteland beset at all times by tornadoes and dust storms, and she wanted to savour every green blade of grass and every golden field and every calm little town while she could. 

Of course, like everything else, Aurelia quickly grew tired of the inside of her gilded carriage, and grew tired of sleeping in a different bed every night like some kind of common whore without the company. She grew tired of the Firthian emissary's incessant prattling, tired of the clopping of his horse's hooves alongside her carriage, tired of the gold tooth that glinted between his shifty lips. Of course she humoured him, not wanting to insult her future kingdom, but her answers to his endless questions soon became short and curt, and she rarely spared him a glance. 

Eventually, on their approach to the port city of Wickport, the emissary got on her very last nerve, clopping alongside her carriage rattling on about something, his horse's side blocking her view of possibly the last piece of Bastolle she'd ever lay eyes on again.

Tired and sore from travel and tongue worn raw from talking about nothing, finally the princess leaned out her window and stared daggers at the emissary. 

"Dear Ambassador," she began with a voice like poisoned honey, "We are on the approach to Wickport. Wickport is the last Bastollion city before Sommerfirth begins on the other side of the Rebus Sea. Now I am [i]ecstatic[/i] to join the ranks of your fine rulers but I would also like to steal a glance at the last part of the country I very well may never see again." Her former smile darkened into a scowl. "So, for the love of all that is holy and light get your damn horse away from my window before I send the poor beast bolting with you tied by your ankles to the reins!"

A look of shock crossed the poor emissary's face and he promptly slowed his horse to let the carriage pass. Meanwhile, Willa giggled behind her hand. 

Aurelia looked back at her, doing her best to keep up her firmness, but failing. "Now what ever is so funny?"

Willa laughed openly then, and Aurelia couldn't help but crack a smile. When the thought re-entered her mind that today would be the last she'd see of Willa, Aurelia pulled the girl into a hug. As nasty as the princess' reputation was among the servants, Willa had been with her since they were both children, and saw through her like glass. Gods, she would miss her. 

When the caravan finally stopped in Wickport, Aurelia and Willa were promptly ushered to an inn overlooking the harbour and were situated in a common room with a sunny balcony where they could watch the ship as it was loaded. A small bastion of knights, mostly Bastollion but some Firthian as well, stood guard around them, but the presence that was notably missing was that of the half-breed champion. The ladies could see him giving orders on the docks from their perch, unmistakable what with his shining silver-and-blue cuirass and the vast wings folded on his back. 

"They look rather like mail, don't they?" Asked Willa, apparently reading Aurelia's mind.

Aurelia shrugged, peering down at him with a sort of bored interest. "I suppose so," she replied, "But I don't think many well-to-do knights would wear them."

Willa chuckled, more in affirmation than anything. "He's really quite something, isn't he?"

Aurelia frowned. "Certainly something..." she offered distantly, swirling her drink before turning back to Willa with a mischievous grin, "But we've yet to find out exactly what." 

Willa rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean," she gently chastised - perhaps the only person aside from the princess' immediate family who could get away with it - "Coming to all this trouble to escort you, and all."

Aurelia scoffed. "He is obeying my father, nothing more," she asserted, "That we [i]do[/i] have in common."

Willa shrugged, changing the subject. "I wonder if they'll get that horse on board?"

Ah yes, the horse. They both knew which one Willa was talking about. The dragonling's horse, a monster in its own right, easily six hands higher than every other mount in the company. Aurelia wasn't sure if there was another beast in the country that would readily carry such a creature. Maybe in Sommerfirth, she mused, they could find him some kind of giant reptile.