"Clip-clop..."
The clattering of hooves echoed on the long path of bluestone, drifting northward. Dias rode his horse, treading the light winter snow of the Iberian Peninsula, with the bright coastal sunlight behind him. Underneath him, the meticulously cultivated Lusitano warhorse stood over a meter and sixty tall, making his figure appear particularly majestic. Beside him, the cavalry of the Royal Family remained silent and composed, well-trained to maintain their formation even while galloping.
A good road of fifty miles, riding on warhorses, only takes one or two hours. Moments later, the surrounding villages gradually thinned, the estates of the nobility faintly visible, and the ancient Sintra Palace lay just a few miles away.
Only then did Dias emerge from his contemplation. He slightly quickened his pace, riding parallel to the two court knights leading the way.
