Brabenne rises in layers. Red tile and pale stone nearest the sea, then a riot of rooftops stretching inland until it becomes a brown haze of chimney smoke and sun-baked dust. A ribbon of water cuts through the city and empties into the harbor, glinting between packed buildings.
The old wall stands like a belt around the richest quarters, but the sprawl outside it is larger. Alleys, small homes, and cheap inns pressed against the roads that feed the gates. Here, no one looks impressed by a traveler. They look hungry.
Even as dirty and ragged as they are, your clothes—the finery worn by Muindor nobility—are horrifically out of place in the bustling free-city. It's been a nearly year since your flight from home. When you left it was with only the things you could grab in a hurry, and a single coin pouch. Your funds are running pitifully low, and you know in your hearts that Jacen still gives chase.
Standing at a crossroad in the district outside the city's walls, you look around the foreign city. Serena draws her arms around herself, glancing around uncertainly. "We need food. We need shelter. We need coin. And we need a plan." She murmurs, weariness evident in both her look and tone.
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Brabenne rises in layers. Red tile and pale stone nearest the sea, then a riot of rooftops stretching inland until it becomes a brown haze of chimney smoke and sun-baked dust. A ribbon of water cuts through the city and empties into the harbor, glinting between packed buildings.
The old wall stands like a belt around the richest quarters, but the sprawl outside it is larger. Alleys, small homes, and cheap inns pressed against the roads that feed the gates. Here, no one looks impressed by a traveler. They look hungry.
Even as dirty and ragged as they are, your clothes—the finery worn by Muindor nobility—are horrifically out of place in the bustling free-city. It's been a nearly year since your flight from home. When you left it was with only the things you could grab in a hurry, and a single coin pouch. Your funds are running pitifully low, and you know in your hearts that Jacen still gives chase.
Standing at a crossroad in the district outside the city's walls, you look around the foreign city. Serena draws her arms around herself, glancing around uncertainly. "We need food. We need shelter. We need coin. And we need a plan." She murmurs, weariness evident in both her look and tone.