A faint mist clung to the lower streets of Alta as the group made their way from the city stables.
The cart's wooden wheels rumbled over uneven cobblestones.
The Drayhorn pulling it gave a soft snort, hooves tapping a steady rhythm past shuttered shopfronts, old taverns with faded murals, and sleeping inns where the scent of salt and old ale drifted faintly from the cracks.
As they turned through a narrow lane, the edge of the market came into view - already stirring to life.
The smell of fresh kulwin bread drifted through the air, warm and yeasty from clay ovens, mingling with the smoky scent of roasting meat.
The sharp tang of sea brine threaded through it all - a reminder of the docks, where the masts of merchant ships jutted like a forest of bare trees against the pale morning sky.
By the time they reached the market square, sunlight was spilling over rooftops, casting long gold streaks across the cobbles.
And the city transformed.
Vendors called to passersby, children darted between carts, laughter tangled with haggling and song. A city watchman leaned against a post, half-watching the crowd, his dull bronze badge winking in the light.
Voices rose and fell in a lively rhythm - a chaotic, living pulse.
Laya cradled Archus close, his face tucked under her chin. But the baby was still awake, his small eyes were wide and flicking from color to color - the crates of crimson and green fruits, bundles of sharp-smelling herbs, jars of pickled kelp, the flash of coins stamped with the Governor-General's seal.
He watched everything, a quiet, unshaken curiosity humming beneath his small brow.
Lyndis walked ahead, measured and smooth, cutting through the bustle like a blade. Rin guided the Drayhorn from behind, her head slightly bowed, eyes darting occasionally to make sure they kept pace.
When they reached the familiar vendors, the work began.
"Really Mr. Wan, 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, hands busy, eyes wary but not afraid.
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 the Drayhorn's neck.
Once they're 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.
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, waiting.