A cloaked figure walked through a city, the great terraces, the roofs and the stones laying the foundation of the long street, foiled with countless traders and merchants to all sides, the walls made of gold as well, each and every single window made from crystal, light glowing from golden lampposts, the walls covered in wonderful artwork made of gold as well.
As the cloaked man, the tall figure dragging a tattered cloak behind them, a full bag hanging onto their side, made of brown leather, aged and in some cases already decaying, filled with various trinkets as well as coins made of Cadon, the very same ones that had once plagued Cades to such a great degree, he began to think about how annoying it was to see all this endless yellow, as well as the glowing of the great lamps, a priced obsession of the ruler of this place, the matriarch who truly loved gold before she grew as many called her.
The rare few real people on the sides watched him, the wind coming from seemingly nowhere throwing back his hood as it did not weigh much to speak of, revealing a rather handsome face, a few scars, small and not worth talking about, around the forehead and the chin, covered in a thick stubble with some longer hair protruding, as if he had missed them when shaving, which he had quite obviously still done quite recently.
It wasn't that the traders found him to be weird, no, in truth, many of those in the forsaken realm were like this, they liked their own secrets, they favoured their own psyche over everything, thinking their own pain is worse than that of anyone else, no matter what they tell them, and they just thought this was another 'edgy', self-righteous person who took themselves to seriously, not that those many merchants, all remaining silent could claim themselves to be very different.
The merchants that were there had just began their journey as such, not having gotten the money, the cadonian coins, to do what many others had done, but machines to do their work, ones made out of the purest gold of the city, made to look like the species known as humans, but with specialized hands, sometimes made of simple hooks, sometimes of more or less than five hands, sometimes even with just the upper body, but always with orange glowing eyes made of a special kind of crystal, as well as a burning flame in the chest fashioned to look like an oven.
To be honest, in this place, with just a few hundred people coming by every hour, though this could still be counted as one of the biggest cities in this place, the forsaken realm, it did not warrant the merchants constantly screaming to attract people to their wares, wares that they often had because they had slain monsters, because they had special skills, because some of them came from worlds where there was something called a 'drop", or something called an 'active', things many of them had a monopoly over, things that they did not really need to advertise for everyone here was most often able to see everything around them with great ease.
And the same counted for the hooded man, cloaked still in the tattered clothes, covered now no more with the hood he had once been hulled within, his long blackish hair, partially dirtied with what seemed to be sand, waving behind him, reaching to the middle of his upper chest, braided in quite the complicated, slightly unsettling way that he should not have been able to achieve on his own, or at least that counted for the first few minutes of him walking calmly through the bazaar, taking rather good care to watch whatever it was that was hidden within his big leather pouch, his hand constantly gripping it, sometimes opening it and touching something hidden inside, resulting int he merchants eyeing it, not that they would actually dare do something, fearing the consequences.
The only ones who might truly do something despite the danger this now un-hooded man posed would be the addicts, the gamblers, from the casino that was just a few streets away, one of the main attractions of the golden city, and a great deal of the income and profit for the queen.
Nevertheless the man actually did stop to buy something, seemingly having developed an interest in what seemed to be a messing sundial, made to be carried within the pocket, useless in the forsaken realm where the sun seemed to shine from beneath, but also having been accustomed with a glowing stone at the top of the fin-like structure whose sole purpose was to project a shadow, maybe something to help truly tell it, as well as a compass right beneath the fin and the surrounding numbers, made of simple strikes and a few V's, roman numerals, something that quite fit with the seller that seemed to be dressed with a rusty roman helmet, a tattered red cloak with some purple accentuation, and some other things, none of which really mattered much to the man that took out a few cadonian coins out of his pocket to buy the apparatus whose needle seemed to point right at the magnificent castle, still a few miles away, where the queen was supposedly residing within.
Exchanging greetings and thanks for the transaction, confirming that it was now truly his, he put the dial which was weighing about a pound, into his pouch, feeling it grow slightly bigger and causing a small stretching from the edge, influencing the thick leather, on the side of the small bag, though that edge was soon to vanish to nowhere, the man soon resuming his walk along the stalls, occasionally looking into them, seemingly enjoying his journey while still tightly grasping his pouch, but not really buying anything more, the coins with a cross etched into them, disrupting the eye that had been adorned with a crystal in the middle, long since removed, no more to be seen.