House Seravin's outer promenade felt like a forgotten stage set.
Gold-trim banners faded by moonlight.
Empty balconies with cracked lion motifs.
Noble prestige dressed in dust and echo.
But Raven didn't come for the crowd.
He came for the blind spots.
He stopped in front of a small merchant stall tucked beneath a stone arch, its vendor NPC blinking slowly as if waking from a dream.
The stall was set into a weathered marble alcove, its stone counter layered with scuff marks and old blood sigils faded by time. A hollow glass lamp above flickered gently, casting dull golden light across the ledgers.
Behind the counter, the NPC cashier—a striking woman with silver hair braided over one shoulder—stood idle, her emerald eyes following nothing and everything all at once.
Her uniform, a soft blend of merchant greens and highborn velvet trim, stood out amidst the gloom. Players could approach her to browse listings or finalize trades through a polite, scripted interaction.
