Within an open stretch of land inside the Territory of Flame, voices overlapped together to form a low but persistent hum. Like a murmur of a distant creek - an intonation, brimming with energy. Only, those who cast it were not mages but hawk-eyed merchants instead.
Their avaricious eyes gleamed, appraising the busy throng. Light snow fell in the background, a thin fog covering the market, the result of countless exhalations.
The traders called out and haggled, hoping to entice whoever entered the trading grounds to a satisfactory trade. They were a skilled and ruthless bunch, the frenzied intensity of their efforts reminding Alden of a pack of rabid beasts, intimidating anyone who did not wish to struggle or vie with them in vain.