The royal carriage came to a sudden halt with a loud, metallic scrape as its heavy wooden wheels sank deep into the muddy, unpaved tracks of the lower districts. The very moment the carriage door swung open, the extreme difference between the clean palace grounds and the harsh reality of the slums hit me like a physical blow.
Stepping out onto the soft, uneven earth, my boots immediately went down into a thick layer of wet dirt and dirty water, forcing me to quickly lift the heavy silk skirts of my dress so they would not drag in the mud. I looked around at the wide landscape of poverty, seeing broken wooden shanties, small shelters held together by torn cloth, and rows of thin, tired-looking people watching us quietly from the shadows of the alleyways. The air in the area was thick and heavy, smelling strongly of wood smoke, waste, and the distinct, sweet scent of the Black Lotus Powder.
