As Jorel entered the Inner Heaven, he was met by a sight of horses and carriages, laden with bags and sacks either piled high or resting beside them. These vehicles were leagues beyond the one Slov had arranged for his departure. The people, an assembly of servants, neatly dressed maidens, and high-ranking officials, all turned their gaze to Jorel as he ran.
"Isn't that..." An official gasped, recognizing Jorel.
The other onlookers either showed overt surprise or held an unsettling air of disdain about them.
The boxes...
So many people here...
I've only ever seen crowds like this for a wedding.
Or... for a funeral.
Jorel felt a gut-wrenching jab in his stomach as he passed through the manor doors.
The Grand Hall was a sea of faces from different clans; servants and guests, their collective chatter replacing the very air within. But Jorel was oblivious to it all. He wove past groups of people, ignoring some who called out to him, his mind fixed on a single thought:
