Aurevane at night felt more expensive than it had from the train.
That was the first thing Trafalgar understood once he and Cynthia stepped into the street. The city did not have Velkaris's size or Mariven Port's noise. It was smaller, tighter, and far more controlled, as if every road had been measured, judged, taxed, and only then allowed to exist.
Alchemical lamps floated inside glass cages above the streets, burning with green-gold light. Shopkeepers sealed their doors behind thin barriers of mana. Guards checked invitations under archways, while merchants in fine coats locked crystal cases full of vials, monster bones, polished cores and tools Trafalgar did not trust by appearance alone.
Aurevane was beautiful.
Which, in Trafalgar's experience, usually meant someone had spent a fortune making danger look civilized.
