After some hours, they had finally reached Goldfire Refuge.
Goldfire Refuge appeared through the thinning trees like something that had been placed there without much thought and had not changed since.
It was a small community with modest walls, modest buildings, the kind of place that had settled into a comfortable level of existence and stopped pushing beyond it. The road leading to its entrance was well maintained though, which said something about the trade traffic that passed through regularly on the way between Liberty Road and the cities beyond.
Two security personnel stepped out from the entrance post the moment the caravan slowed, both of them dressed in the refuge's standard uniform and carrying the practiced authority of men whose entire job was asking questions and deciding who moved forward.
The older one came to the driver's side and raised a hand.
"State your origin and destination," he said.
Crest brought the caravan to a full stop.
