Someone stood on the other side of the square.
Someone she knew.
Or, well. Knew might have been a generous description. Mirabelle stopped chewing.
A little farther down the marketplace, surrounded by ribbons, colorful awnings, laughing families, and enough cheerful decorations to make the entire square look like someone had thrown a rainbow over Steinstein, stood a dark figure who looked profoundly out of place among all of it.
Like someone had invited the God of Death to a summer festival.
Mirabelle slowly lowered the skewer in her hand.
It was him.
The strange Beastman from Rotwald.
She would have recognized him anywhere.
He stood behind a broad market stall almost overflowing with goods. Unlike the stalls around it, there were no colorful fabrics, pottery, jewelry meant purely for decoration, or baskets of food arranged to tempt passing customers.
Everything displayed there looked... unusual.
Valuable and slightly dangerous.
