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 asured, 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 rchants 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 ant soone had spent a fortune making danger look civilized.
Cynthia walked beside him, taking in the city with a curiosity she no longer bothered hiding. Her attention shifted from one glowing sign to another, stopping every few steps whenever a new window displayed sothing strange enough to catch her.
"It feels different from Velkaris," she said, her hand tightening around the strap of her small bag. "Smaller, but sohow harder to enter."
"That is probably the point," Trafalgar replied. "Aurevane does not look like a city that enjoys random visitors."
"No," Cynthia said. "They don't seem to like it, do they?"
They passed a row of stalls that had not closed yet. One sold recovery vials in velvet-lined boxes. Another displayed alchemical arrowheads under floating labels, each tip sealed inside its own glass tube. A third had tal capsules arranged by color, with warnings written beneath them in three languages.
Very reassuring.
Nothing said "safe city" like ammunition being sold beside breakfast tonics.
Cynthia slowed near the arrowheads.
Trafalgar noticed.
"Interested?"
You’re missing out! Purchase this chapter to uncover what
happens next.
Reviews
All reviews (0)