Horace rode back to the Maximus territory. The further north he went, the colder the temperature became. The sparse snow on the roads transformed into a blanket of white. Horace put on another layer. Each breath he took blew out white mist as the horses slowly trudged along.
"You have experience camping in this type of weather, don't you?" Horace casually spoke to Halfdan, who drove the carriage. Halfdan's eyes looked into the distance, remembering his life before the Empire.
"I really was uncivilised back then." With a self-mocking tone, he nodded, "Yeah. Our winters were worse than this. Why do you ask?"
"Because we couldn't enter the Maximus manor straight away." Horace clicked his tongue. "Magnus has sent us away, but he is an arrogant enough man not to have told his family that we are no longer working together. In the small window when he leaves his manor, we will strike. It's the only chance we have."
