CLXXV. A Mere Martial Artist

Alanee's identity was noble.

It was impossible for her to go to a relay station and take a carriage others had ridden in.

Two beautiful, shiny black horses with flowing manes galloped along the thoroughfare, pulling a meticulously carved dark-toned rosewood carriage. While not inlaid with gold or jade, it was quite understated, yet it exuded an aura that told strangers to keep their distance.

The roads within Aran were so smooth they nearly matched the level of asphalt highways; there would be no issues even if cars were to drive on them.

In the transportation network of each major city, every twenty miles, or even less, there was a relay station inn, where fierce competition was the norm.

The most outrageous thing was,

when you were about fifty miles away from a big city, there were street lights on both sides of the road, and dedicated road maintenance institutions to repair and maintain the main roads.