Upon arriving back at the castle Chern wasted no time preparing for the trip; after what he read he was anxious to get going. When he and his wife Rosaline where ready to leave, there wasn't have much of a caravan waiting for them, only a small carriage which was usually used on local tours around the kingdom. They set out for Alftheim that day with only four horses, a carriage driver and two guards for company, but Chern was mostly thankful for the relative quiet on the trip as he squirmed around restlessly, betraying his stress and alarm.
Rosaline looked out the window in boredom with her hand on her chin, sort of half-rolling her eyes in a fairly undignified way. "You're nervous this has to do with your grandfather." She looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.
He didn't say anything. Rosaline had been born in the Southern kingdom which Saffron had annexed not long ago. Their marriage had been a passionless political maneuver by Chern's father at the end of his life, with the aim being to reunite his brother's kingdom with his own. Despite this, they got along reasonably well; he thought she was pretty and kind and tried to be courteous to her, even though after two years they still didn't have much of a romance. The only time she grated on his nerves was times like this when her excellent perceptive abilities led her to read his emotions and restate them aloud. That always hurt his pride, but he wasn't going to start an argument with her then and there, and didn't see the point in responding.
Instead he only scratched his head and sighed worriedly, continuing to fidget in silence for the rest of the journey. When they finally arrived in Alftheim the next morning, he was more then eager to get his feet back on the ground.