The stone road winding through the open fields led Cristine and Yennifer to the entrance to Filgram. The reinforced wooden gate stood open, flanked by guards who hardly seemed to notice who entered or left. The smells arrived first: spices burning in braziers, meat roasting, the stench of fresh fish mixed with that of spoiled fish, human sweat, horse dung, and cheap wine. Cristine paused for a moment, squinting.
"So… this is Filgram." Her voice held a restrained calm, as if she were absorbing every detail.
Yennifer adjusted her dark cloak around her shoulders, partially covering her face. Her eyes, however, scanned the crowd in every direction, eager, curious, suspicious. "It's a living city," she said quietly, almost reverently. "Chaotic, noisy, smelly… but alive."
