Chapter 1862 Trouble Strikes Again

• “Will this cursed weather ever quit?” one of the drivers growled, wiping rainwater and sweat from his brow.
• On a churned stretch of dirt road, more than twenty cargo trucks idled nose to tail. The lead vehicle had sunk a tire deep into mud, blocking every rig behind it. The Maconne Group security detail assigned to deliver prisoners north to Northern Fruycia voiced their frustration in a rising chorus.
• For weeks, the sky had offered only extremes—scorching heat that scalded the skin or torrential downpours that drowned the tracks. Each swing of the weather felt like another slap from an unseen hand.