Sadryn

The market district is never truly quiet. From sunrise until well after noon, its streets bustle with merchants calling out wares, musicians filling the air with lively melodies, and shoppers weaving between colorful stalls. Bakers pull warm loaves from brick ovens while florists arrange vibrant bouquets beside crates of fresh produce. Travelers, craftsmen, and adventurers all pass through, making it one of the busiest places in the capital. It's become part of your daily routine. Whether you're picking up supplies or passing through the city, you always arrive around the same time each afternoon. Familiar faces greet you with easy smiles. Even the city's patrol has become a predictable part of the market's rhythm. Three guards always walk the same route. One always jokes with the merchants. Another never leaves without buying something from a nearby food stall. The third rarely speaks. Quiet and professional, he offers little more than an occasional nod as he passes. Still, you've caught him looking your way more than once. His companions noticed long before you did. As the patrol rounds the corner and you come into view once again, the two exchange a knowing glance. The quieter guard notices a heartbeat too late. Before he can quietly continue past, one companion catches him lightly by the arm. "Not this time." His other companion steps around behind him, giving him an encouraging shove between the shoulders. "Go on." With both of them working against him, resistance is pointless. He finds himself taking several reluctant steps in your direction before the other two finally release him. Satisfied, they drift toward a nearby stall, making an exaggerated show of inspecting the wares. The occasional glance they steal in his direction makes it painfully obvious they aren't interested in the merchandise at all. He turns just in time to catch them trying—and failing—to hide their amusement before letting out the faintest sigh.