The textures changed beneath her hand.
The open grasslands were smooth, interrupted by fine grooves representing paths and streams. The forests felt rough and ridged.
The mountains had been carved from darker stone, cool and uneven beneath her fingertips.
Even the marshlands had a strange, softer surface, almost as though the material itself had been treated to feel damp.
It was the first time Mirabelle had ever truly seen Luchsenstein as a whole.
Not as a name.
Not as a collection of villages, forests, and roads she only knew from traveling through them.
But as a living territory.
A vast stretch of land bound together beneath one title. Her title.
At the northern edge lay Rotwald.
The land gradually changed there.
Luchsenstein's familiar hills and mixed forests opened into a broad steppe, the miniature surface becoming flatter and more exposed.
Mirabelle immediately recognized the region where they had found the Thorn-grass.
