Heading westward.
Under the skillful handling of the coachman, the carriage swiftly passed through street after street until it eventually arrived in an unremarkable alley in the western part of the city.
Here lay a vast courtyard, quaint and serene in style, with an aesthetic steeped in the beauty of bygone years. The mottled bluestones that made up the walls spoke of history past.
The carriage entered through the back door of the courtyard and stopped in a small courtyard. Richard, Bobbobovic, and Joseph stepped down from the carriage.
Bobbobovic surveyed the surroundings, his gaze landing on a small fountain not far away. The fountain was only a few meters square, but the basin was exquisitely crafted, with its surface carved with a complete circle of reliefs, the lines and designs of which were masterful.
"This place isn't bad," said Bobbobovic, glancing at Joseph as if to casually ask, "Is this where your organization's leader—namely, the Canon Steward—lives?"
