"Your Highness, you are known for being careful, decisive, and calculating. But what is this?"
"Milady, you were the one who said it yourself—not everything about me can be contained in the mere pages of a book." Florence chuckled, his voice light despite the tension in the air. "And this motorcycle? It's faster than a wyvern or even the warhorses bred by the imperial family!"
He resisted the occasional urge to steady himself by holding into Freyah's shoulders. He kept his grip firm on the rear of the passenger seat instead. Freyah was in control, expertly maneuvering the vehicle.
Ahead of them, Harley rode his own motorcycle, leading the way towards San Andres Bukid, where he and his aunt resided. The motorcycles they were using were ones Freyah had salvaged after a deadly encounter with zombies. She had smuggled them out, knowing there were plenty abandoned vehicles left behind after the chaos.