Her Majestic Battle Cry

Her Majestic Battle Cry Chapter 560

Chapter 560

The carriage jolted over the uneven road, and the hurried pace only made the ride more grueling for Kayla. After just half an hour rissa noticed Kayla’s face had gone pale, her hand clutching her chest as if she were about to be sick.

Carissa asked, “Are you feeling nauseous from the carriage ride? Should I have the driver slow down?”

“No, don’t slow down,” Kayla waved her hand dismissively. “We need to go as fast as possible. I wish this horse had wings to fly us to Westglade. Don’t mind how frail I look, Your Grace–I can endure hardship.”

“Alright, then.” Carissa reached into her bag and pulled out the dried fruits Lulu had packed. Finding some ginger candies, she said, “Suck on this candy. It’ll help you feel better.”

“Thank you!” Kayla popped a piece into her mouth. The sweet and spicy taste spread in her mouth, somewhat alleviating her nausea.

Meanwhile, Rafael had arranged for the carriage to be modified in Simonton City. It was now spacious enough for Lawrence to lie down comfortably. Soft padding was added to ease the pain from the bumps. The military physician sat in the carriage with him, fanning away the heat and monitoring his condition.

Oliver had provided the best horses for everyone else.

Having stayed out of sight for a while, Oliver finally came out to see them off. He avoided eye contact with Thomas, and Thomas did the same. There was almost no exchange of glances between them.

mount his

turned around. “Do you

tanned, clean–shaven face, noting the absence of his former charm. He felt a pang of bitterness in his

you’re

“Thank you, Marshal Prince.

+25 BONUS

watched Thomas swing himself onto the horse with practiced ease. The man sat upright with the

was a shame that fate had

the way to Westglade. Since there was no ongoing war, their extended absence was not an issun, and Oliver

would never meet again, it was only natural to want to spend as much time together as possible

was a common human

didn’t even turn his head. He simply waved

in Westglade, but would return directly to Meadow Ridge. However, the route he traveled for

slow. Everett and

there was no war in the Southern Frontier in the future.

read them with uncanny accuracy. He had only met Oliver a handful of

someone was weak, strong, cowardly, or confident–Everett

of a marshal. His confidence was merely an act, and it was obvious. Beneath his bravado, he was all