Braywick

Soon, after days of steady travel across plains, hills, and narrow roads through small, sleepy villages, the group finally arrived at the outskirts of a coastal town. It had taken them six full days — six days of camping under the stars, taking turns at watch, and keeping a weary eye on the road ahead. But now, the sound of waves crashing against the docks, the distant squawks of gulls, and the faint scent of salt in the air marked a change in their journey.

The sun was just beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting an orange-gold glow over the sea and painting the sky in brilliant hues of fire. The town by the sea, called Braywick, was bustling even at this hour. Dozens of merchant stalls were lined along the streets, with fabrics of bright colors flapping in the ocean breeze. Fishmongers shouted about their catch of the day, sailors haggled over crates of imported goods, and children darted between carts, laughing as they chased each other with sticks.