The weather is beautiful today, with the sky above Puhov Village as blue as if it were washed clean. On a relatively small dock near the lake, a group of workers, bare-chested in the warm spring breeze, were busy transporting goods. A corpulent merchant from the Southern Nation was speaking in broken Delarion language to an elderly man dressed as a butler, while the complaints of sailors cleaning the deck and the idle chatter of fishermen drying their nets together made for a rather lively scene.
This dock, of course, could not compare with the docks of Coldwater Port City on the West Coast in scale, but it was large enough for a dock by an inland lake. Shard even saw a few travelers playing Roder Card around a wooden crate at the edge of the dock. Curiosity suppressed, he didn't go over but instead approached the Carsonrick merchant who didn't speak the language and the person dressed as an older butler:
"Sir, do you need a translator?"
