After a couple of hours, Joji and his party reached the Cutler Estate without further trouble.
Joji leaned close to Walter as the walls came into view.
"Do not jump out and shout your name," he murmured. "Go to someone you trust. Someone with strength and status."
Walter nodded, swallowing hard.
The Cutler Estate was not a sprawl like Everhart.
It sat in the middle ground between a small castle and a proud manor, stone walls, a broad yard.
Wagons lined up in ranks like soldiers, sorted by sturdiness, by size, by speed.
Caravan wagons, merchant wagons, wagons meant to run when roads turned bad.
Guards poured out at the first sign of a large group, posture sharp, hands near steel.
Then they saw who led the caravan and relaxed by degrees.
Joveric waved once, easy and familiar, and the gates opened wider. Still, he did not set his broadsword down.
The man looked jolly, but his eyes kept measuring angles and hands.
