Breakfast was quickly enough done, and satchels of fresh food were prepared and distributed from the castle kitchens.  Each with sufficient to keep its owner well fed and watered to the first way stop.  The quartet exited the castle, geared for a journey, what little they already owned bundled for the trip.  Larger items were strapped to the mule, regardless of who they belonged to for the moment, rather than wearing out any one party member unnecessarily.<br/><br/>The party was accompanied by a small honour guard of the King’s Men through the chilled morning, and along the cobbled streets.  Few, if any, were awake this early in the day in the city.  Indeed, even the sun had yet to climb into the overcast sky sufficiently enough to do more than enhance the night’s shadows.  The gibbet swung in the castle courtyard, containing the slowly rotting corpse of the thief captured in the tourney, hung several days past, and left as a warning to those foul enough to violate the king’s law.<br/><br/>The portcullis was raised for the morning just as the small party drew near, rattling its chains as it yawned that steely maw open, ready to consume all who passed through it into the belly of the city itself, and in this case, disgorge the quartet and their packbeast onto the Westroad, ready to travel to their destinies.  The honour guard left them then, taking their position at the gate, and relieving the night watchmen as they were directed.<br/><br/>Even as the sun rose into the clouded sky, changing pitch dark to leaden grey overhead, the temperature barely rose high enough to allow them to travel without the little clouds of their breath leading the way.  Soon, thankfully, the spring would be done, and the summer on its way, with its warmer weather, and longer days.  Planting would yield crops, and food would once again flow into the great cities of the Realm.  For now, though, the only travelers on the Westroad were the small patrols of King’s Soldiers, the occasionally exceptionally hardy merchant, and the four.  Out of them all, only the four traveled West.<br/><br/>The first day found them arriving at the way station and its fire just as the dark consumed the sky, leaving them as the last in the great barred doors before curfew closed them for the night.  A silent meal was passed between them, and an early bed, knowing they would be rising just as early on the morrow.  And so it passed.  Three days, and three nights they traveled from way station to way station, until they arrived at the small town of Moorsedge.  It was a filthy place, given over to trade and barter, and the scum that came with it.  Purses were tucked inside of robes and armour, and pouches buckled tight against the inevitable pickpockets.  The town watch here was rougher looking, dirtier, and obviously more used to actually using their weapons than parading with them.  Yet, they wore the King’s colours nonetheless.  Even here near the edge of civilization, the King’s Law had weight and strength.<br/><br/>The night was passed in an inn, paid for with the last of the money provided them by the exchequer in Kaerlud for the purpose, and a final meal in a warm building was shared.  On the morrow, their map had them heading north by north west.  Off the Westroad, and overland to West Fenton.<br/><br/>The chill still hung in the air when they woke, performing their morning ablutions and buckling their equipment together.  Here there would be no honour guard to the city walls.  Here, they would make their own way out of the muddy, sprawling town, and stand at the edge of it, looking over heath and vale, taking the first breath of adventure into their cold-seared lungs.