Rustgard turned out to be no ordinary town.
That morning, as the caravan stopped at the edge of town, Dayat was the first to disembark and was immediately greeted by a sight of stark contrasts. To the left, rows of market stalls were beginning to bustle with merchants opening their wares—vegetables, fabrics, simple metal tools. The smell of spices and salted fish blended into one. To the right, narrow alleys led to densely populated settlements with wooden houses huddled together, while in the distance, several two-story stone buildings with glass windows were visible—a sign that even in this small town, there was a chasm between the haves and the have-nots.
Dola stepped down behind him, stretching her body after sleeping on Dayat's shoulder all night. Her hood still covered most of her face, but her electric blue eyes were briefly visible before she pulled it lower.
"Are we here?" she asked, her voice still a bit raspy from just waking up.
