In a carriage, Veandra looked outside through the window. The castle is in sight ahead of them. The wind from the meadow is climbing up and down the hills, brushing the grasses on the way. The road is not concrete but dirt with rocks so the carriage is shaking so hard that made her frown. She is used to riding smooth sportscars on the smooth concrete road, wearing beautiful but comfortable clothes, smelling her expensive perfume, being in the air-conditioned buildings she owned, and the luxury of the time when toilets are already invented. Nothing seems to be the things she is used to.
Her father is sitting and facing her on the other side of the carriage. He just looked concerned at his unsettled daughter, not because she is unsettled but because she decided to accept the invitation for
