The group stepped out of the mansion and onto the cobblestone streets, the quiet hum of the evening settling around them. The air carried the faint aroma of baked bread and the distant chatter of townsfolk. Alex led the way, Lumi still perched confidently on his shoulder, while Goliath walked beside him. Galathor trailed behind, his heavy footsteps resonating faintly against the stone.
As they wandered from street to street, Galathor's gaze swept over the surroundings, his expression a complex mix of awe and melancholy. The once-majestic kingdom he had ruled was now a bustling town filled with modest homes, lantern-lit roads, and the occasional merchant cart creaking by.
"This... is Zuberk?" Galathor murmured, his voice heavy with disbelief. His eyes lingered on a small fountain in the town square, its weathered stone a shadow of the grandeur he once knew.
"Yup, this is it," Alex said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Not exactly the golden age you left behind, huh?"
