The Black Water River ferry crossing was as busy as ever.
The setting sun burned the sky a magnificent orange-red, and the river's surface glittered as if sprinkled with flecks of gold.
A few ferry boats plied their way slowly between the two banks. The calls of the boatmen, the chatter of travelers, and the cries of livestock mingled together, creating a bustling scene.
Not far from the crossing, several cargo wagons covered with heavy canvas were parked at the edge of the woods, looking like a merchant caravan waiting to be loaded onto a boat.
The coachmen gathered in twos and threes, talking and laughing in low voices and occasionally taking a swig of ale. Everything seemed perfectly normal.
Ed, who had already broken through to the rank of Sky Knight, was among them. He wore common linen clothes, his face bearing the perfect look of exhaustion and numbness, just like an old coachman who had been on the road for years.
His gaze, however, never left the opposite bank.
