Sunset washed across the municipal gateway in shades of copper and violet as the traveling party returned to town.
A dense crowd of miners, weavers, and anxious mothers gathered along the palisades, their eyes wide with quiet anticipation.
"Did the lord truly tame the northern crags?" an elderly carpenter asked, his rough hands gripping the timber rail. "The runners claim every cart will be filled with ore before the week ends!"
"The mountain is open," Hajin declared, his voice carrying clearly across the dusty avenue. "Every laborer who swings a pickaxe will receive fair coin for honest sweat."
A cheer rippled through the gathering crowd, several laborers weeping openly as decades of crushing dread melted into fragile hope.
A young girl with bright eyes and neatly braided hair stepped forward from the front rank, clutching a carved wooden doll.
"Is the great beast truly gone, Lord Hajin?" the brave child asked, tilting her chin up without a trace of fear.
