Ren sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair as the thoughts of Carthage's structure and power plays slowly faded from his mind.
No point brooding about things he couldn't change. Not yet, anyway.
He paused, took a breath, then pasted a smile on his face.
The smile wasn't fake, at least not entirely. It was just the kind you wear when you're not sure whether to keep pretending or stop trying altogether. Still, it did its job.
He walked the streets like any other Carthage citizen, cloak tied tightly around his shoulders, boots clicking softly on the stone-paved path.
The morning orb-light glowed warmly from the lamp posts, casting soft light on the surrounding stone buildings carved directly into the mountain.
"Morning, Ren!" A woman called from her fruit stall.
"Morning," Ren replied with a wave and a grin. "Your apples better not be bruised this time, Clara."
The woman laughed, tossing him a small one. Ren caught it mid-stride and bit into it. Tart. Just how he liked it.
