Three Years

A cold wind pushed through the settlement's narrow streets, curling between rows of brick buildings like a whisper hunting for secrets.

The place was alive with noise. Vendors shouted over one another beneath colourful canopies, their carts stacked with bolts of cloth, dried herbs, glimmering trinkets, and smoked meats. Horses clopped along brick-paved roads, and wagons creaked under the weight of foreign goods. The scent of soot and spice mingled in the air, thick and heavy. Guards in mismatched armour leaned against walls, watching but rarely interfering.

This outpost thrived not because of order, but because chaos was profitable.

And through it all walked a lone figure.