The magical wagon came rolling by without a horse. Its presence terrified even the sailors. Talking to a golem that could barely pass as a human was one thing (but even that needed some getting used to), but seeing a horseless carriage was another. The "perishable cargo" were loaded into one wagon, and Corum was requested to ride on a separate wagon-golem. Off they went into the Citadel, one horseless wagon after another.
Nuits were always welcome in Sahova, as they were the ones who had the most potential to become permanent residents of the island. Elsewhere, the undead are feared and hated. In Sahova, they were no longer outcasts or deviants. They were even safe from the followers of Dira, those who seek to pull them back into the cycle of life and rebirth. The undead was the "in" crowd in Sahova. Corum would not find it hard to fit in, so to speak. The only thing that mattered now was how he will carry out his business in the land of the dead.
The wagon-convoy headed straight into the Citadel, which from afar looked like a castle that grew from the earth: a mushroom sprouting in a dead twig. It was simply magnificent, unlike any other. Magical. Majestic. With just one look at the twin walls and the towering structures, Corum knew that this was the place to be for a Nuit. So far he had heard that the island was a place where many of his kind lived, maybe he had already chanced upon rumors of the undead's wickedness - after all, Sahova imported bodies. Now was his chance to see for himself what lies beyond the walls.
OOCI suppose you're off to the Vestibule, now?