Velin arrived in the Old Quarter of the Royal Capital and booked a private room on the second floor of the Silver Spoon Teahouse.
Below was a street paved with bluestone slabs. The lettering on most of the signs was faded and illegible, replaced by various symbols representing each trade.
Velin pushed open the window of his private room, and a complex mix of scents wafted in.
The malty aroma of baking bread, the foul stench of silt from the canals, and the raw, pungent smell of draft horses all mingled together, forming the unique scent of the Royal Capital's Old Quarter.
He leaned against the window, looking down.
In front of the side gate of an imposing manor, a group of people in tattered clothes squatted, as still as statues.
'What's going on here?' Velin wondered, studying the scene.
Just then, the manor's side gate opened, and two servants emerged, carrying a large wooden barrel between them.
