The mud in Frostgate was thick, brown, and smelled like horse shit and stale ale.
Leo Dragomir sat comfortably in the saddle of his black stallion. He wore his heavy black leather combat coat, his broadsword strapped to his hip. Katherine rode beside him on a grey mare, her face entirely hidden behind her thick, dark veil.
Frostgate was the capital town governed by Lord Snowwhite. Usually, it was a wealthy, highly structured hub of northern commerce. Right now, it was a chaotic, mud-choked shithole.
Thousands of heavily armed adventurers crowded the narrow streets. Men carrying massive broadswords, arrogant mages wielding glowing staffs, and desperate, opportunistic merchants screaming prices from wooden stalls. The sheer volume of unwashed bodies, spilled wine, and nervous sweat made the air suffocating.
