The sheer, unadulterated arrogance of the Aethelgard Dukedom was, frankly, starting to grow on me.
We left the manicured, forced tranquility of the Ducal Gardens behind, descending back into the chaotic thrum of the Dry Wards' commercial sectors. I had adjusted the perceptual filter again, dialing our presence back to that of wealthy, unremarkable surface scholars. The throngs of human aristocrats and heavily armored dwarven merchants parted around us without a second thought, their minds effortlessly sliding over our existence.
"They call it the Deep-Tide Exhibition. It happens once a month. The Duke's supreme mages essentially go fishing in the abyss, drag whatever horrifying monstrosities they can find up to the shallows, and put them on display for the land-dwellers."
Krave explained, her voice carrying a bright, theatrical edge as she led us down a sweeping avenue paved in crushed black pearl.
