The morning sun climbed over the capital's walls. Raze and Julius emerged from the abandoned warehouse. Both men moved stiffly. Injuries still healing despite a night's rest. But alive. Functional.
"The merchant quarter," Julius said. His voice was stronger than yesterday. Hope did that. Knowing his sister would live. "That's where we sell dungeon materials. Multiple buyers. Competition drives prices up."
"Lead the way."
They navigated through morning crowds. The capital was waking. Merchants opening stalls. Workers heading to jobs. The daily rhythm of a million people.
Raze's Inventory held most of the materials. Weightless. Invisible. But Julius carried some physically. Insisted on it. Said buyers liked to see merchandise.
The merchant quarter was loud. Chaotic. Hundreds of stalls pressed together. Voices shouting prices. Haggling. The smell of spices and sweat and money changing hands.
