Michael turned his gaze to the middle-aged man seated across from him.
The official gave a knowing smile.
He reached into a side compartment built seamlessly into the carriage wall.
With a quiet click, a section of the panel slid open.
From within, the man pulled out a heavy, iron-bound box roughly the size of a large briefcase.
It was dark oak, reinforced with polished bronze clasps and intricate crestwork carved into the surface—an emblem that bore Duke Evermoon's seal: a crescent moon biting into a ring of stars.
The man placed the box gently between them.
Michael leaned forward slightly, watching in silence.
With a twist of a key, the box opened.
Inside, neatly arranged in their own velvet-lined compartments, were three items.
—A rolled-up parchment map
—A wooden token.
—And a bulging black bag sack.
The man didn't speak immediately. He let Michael absorb the sight.
"This," he said at last, lifting the map carefully, "is the territory of Duke Evermoon."
