Resting on top of the Marketplace, Aether watched from above. It hadn't changed, not even a little bit; he could even recognize most of the sellers. Nobles came, and they robbed in broad daylight; it was the same dreadful process over and over again.
To think what those merchants had to go through; they worked so hard getting the things they sold, just for someone to come and give them a horrible deal they weren't allowed to decline. Things needed to change, and he knew that...
This wasn't going to be the life the Withered was going to have to go through for long... he had gotten stronger, and would continue to grow stronger. Meaning the Withered would always have a protector.
...
Aether rolled his eyes, walking away from the Marketplace. He had thought that maybe it would be more interesting, but it hadn't. He had been dead wrong, and outside it, there was nothing new.
