The leader has spoken and thus there shant be no opposition.
-Please keep a journal about your progress. I will be sending a messenger once or twice per week to check on you.
Then, the robed man turned around and went back into the city.
The travel down the cobblestone path was a dull one. Minutes passed as the seven migrants, with one in the lead of the horses pulling the wagon, went up north.
THey could see how the Kuppelbernian farm fields gave away to the grassy, undeveloped grasslands and flat fields. They were often passing silent and gloom looking peasants - some going south by foot, some on animals. Occassional wagon there and there.
It will be a long, boring journey it seems.
The first hour also brought them to a recent battlefield - vast field, with some skeletons and mounds and heaps of dirt that didn't swayed the horde of ravens from picking on the remains.
Few hours of this boring trip later, they could at last notice the Torgajo forest far to the north. Few minutes after that, they arrived at the crossroads - an old dirt path with a ruined signpost: 'efls ->'
By now, there was absolutely no one alive in the vicinity besides the migrants. From this place, they could see the small building of the inn, right under first trees of the Forest, further north via cobblestone road.
But cozy inns weren't for them, no. They now went east, by an old dirt path that was possibly older than parents of any of the migrants. It was slightly overgrown but nothing that the sturdy wagon couldn't pass through. On the other hand, the grass was tall and bushes thick - it was a wise choice to go by roads, otherwise they could've got stuck.
The sun was halfway behind the forest to the east when they have arrived - a flatland, devoide of rocks and trees, surrounded by the swamp from three sides. When they've arrived, a dead silence welcomed them - not even flies buzzed at their arrival.
There isn't much to do now than unpack, check the goods and start settling down.
It is now early evening.