The market of the southern ruins thrived in its chaos, eleven years after the kingdom's fall. The land was fractured, its former glory replaced by the ruthless dance of power: the House of Daraja, a coalition of displaced nobles shedding their ancestral names for the weighty legacy of Daraja; merchant guilds controlling the pulse of trade and wealth; and the Nightwalkers, who carved a shadowed kingdom from the ashes. Among the region's most infamous enterprises was the slave trade, a merciless reminder of the past.
The streets were crowded with buyers and sellers, shouting over the clamor of haggling and the clatter of carts. Imperials—outsiders from the West—were an unusual sight here, their tailored garments and careful 7posture marking them immediately. One such figure moved with quiet purpose, a butler from the West, sent to procure what he had come for. His eyes were sharp, scanning, analyzing every stall.
After passing several merchants who could not meet his requirements, he finally stopped in front of a shop tucked into a narrow alley. The sign above read: Khamari's Wares, its dark wood polished by years of trade and the passing hands of countless buyers.
As he entered, the shopkeeper looked up, eyes glinting with curiosity. "And you are…?" His voice laced with the thick, lilting accent common to the south, each word rolling gently off his tongue yet carrying the weight of caution and inquiry.
"Nuel," the butler replied evenly, his tone calm yet commanding. There was no hint of hesitation.
For a long moment, they held each other's gaze, silent yet heavy with unspoken judgment. The merchant's eyes flickered with a knowing glint, and a faint smile touched his lips.
"Follow me, habibi," he said finally, his voice smooth, deliberate. "I think… I have that which you seek.
He followed behind, every sense alert. Tales of southern traders had reached even the western region—stories of men disappearing without a trace, imperial customers fetching high prices in the shadowed corners of the south. Nuel's pace was steady, but his eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, noting every movement, every sound.