As the group made their way from the city stables into the waking market, a faint mist clung to the streets
Though it was already morning, the sun had yet to come up casting the road in a dim, gloomy haze.
Their cart's wooden wheels rumbled over uneven cobblestones.
Marge, the drayhorn pulling it, gave a soft snort, her hooves tapping out a steady rhythm past shuttered shopfronts, old taverns with faded murals, and sleeping inns where the scent of stale ale lingered faintly in the cracks.
To most, this hour might have seemed dreary, fog-laced, muted, and lifeless.
But to Laya, Lyndis, and Rin, there was a strange, quiet comfort in it.
A rare moment when the city looked away. No stares. No whispers. No cautious distance between them and the world.
For once, they could simply be themselves.
Laya leaned slightly backward on the bench, her child Archus cradled in her arms, awake and filled with curiosity.
Lyndis sat tall and silent, her breath slow, like she was savoring the hush between heartbeats.
Rin held the reins gently, the corners of her mouth relaxed in something close to peace.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
Perhaps it was the mist, the stillness, or the way the streets were empty-undemanding and unjudging-that brought them comfort.
Or maybe it was just the simple fact of being together in a rare moment of calm.
After some time, they turned into a narrow lane, the cart's wheels briefly catching on a rut before settling again.
Ahead, the edge of the market came into view, already stirring to life-lights flickering on behind curtains, voices murmuring as stalls were drawn open, the scent of the fresh, warm, and yeasty kulwin bread from clay ovens, and the smoky aroma of roasting meat beginning to drift through the damp morning air.
Bakers and roasters moved with practiced ease, preparing to display their goods at their stalls.
A sharp tang of sea brine threaded through it all-a quiet reminder that Alta was a port city.
Far across the market, the docks also came into view, where the masts of merchant ships jutted up like a forest of bare trees against the pale morning sky.
By the time they reached the market square, sunlight had already spilled over the rooftops, casting long golden streaks across the cobbles.
And the city transformed.
Voices rose and fell in a lively rhythm - a chaotic, living pulse.
Vendors called to passersby, children darted between carts, a city watchman leaned against a post, half-watching the crowd.
Laughter tangled with haggling and song.
--
Meanwhile, upon arriving at the edge of the square, Laya, Lyndis, and Rin disembarked one by one from the cart and began walking through the growing crowd.
Lyndis walked ahead, measured and smooth, cutting through the bustle like a blade.
Rin remained at Marge's side, keeping the drayhorn calm as the cart followed behind at a steady pace.
Laya cradled Archus close, his face tucked gently under her chin.
But the baby was awake, his small eyes wide and flicking from color to color-crates of crimson and green fruits, bundles of sharp-smelling herbs, jars of pickled kelp, and the flash of coins stamped with the Governor-General's seal.
He watched everything, a quiet, unshaken curiosity humming beneath his tiny brow.
When they reached their familiar vendors, the real work began.
"Really Mr. Owan, five silvers for a pound of carrots?" Lyndis asked, deadpan. "They were three yesterday."
The merchant scratched his head. "Ah, well, the harvest-"
"Three," she repeated, unblinking. "Or we move on."
He caved without protest.
But not every vendor tested them with prices. Some tried smiles, soft compliments - especially aimed at Laya.
"Lovely morning, miss," one murmured, eyes lingering a little too long at her chest.
Laya gave a polite smile, her voice light. "It is, isn't it? Though your prices are feeling rather bold for so early."
The merchant gave an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes didn't wander again.
Laya knew the game - and how to end it gently.
Lyndis never needed to say a word; the subtle edge in her presence did the rest.
Rin kept to her work, quietly steady.
She flinched once or twice when a stranger brushed too close, but most of the time, she focused on loading the cart, though her eyes still remained wary of her surroundings.
Archus stayed nestled in Laya's arms, his little hands tucked against her shawl.
His gaze roamed - watching the shapes and sounds, the rise and fall of the market's heartbeat.
It wasn't fear or tension he sensed. It was... wonder. An alertness to the world. A spark of something deeper - but gentle.
Before long, the cart was piled high with fresh produce and household supplies.
Lyndis checked the list one last time; Laya adjusted Archus's blanket; while Rin patted Marge's neck.
Once they were done, they turned to leave.
But then-
BANG!!!
The crack of a gavel shattered the air, sharp and sudden, splitting the market's hum in two.
"Gather 'round, ladies and gentlemen! A fine selection today - exotic, strong, obedient!"
The voice slid in right behind the blow, smooth as a snake through grass.
Rin froze.
Her hands stilled on the cart, her breath caught tight in her chest.
That voice.
Unmistakably slick as oil,
She knew it.
Suddenly, the market's lively sounds fell away, leaving only the pounding of her heart and the cold, creeping bloom of fear. The world around her seemed to blur, as if it had all stopped, alongside her.