Jorghan accepted the gentle ribbing with a simple nod, knowing that Grisha's concern was genuine even if she expressed it in characteristically blunt terms.
The orc woman had given him work when he desperately needed it, had asked no questions about his past, and had shown him the kind of casual kindness that he treasured precisely because it came without conditions or expectations.
The streets of Bleusmoore bustled with evening activity as he made his way through the city's winding thoroughfares. Market stalls were beginning to close for the day, their owners packing away goods and counting the day's earnings, while taverns and inns prepared for the night's rush. Street musicians played on corners, their melodies adding a cheerful soundtrack to the urban symphony, and the smell of cooking food from dozens of different cultures created an olfactory tapestry that spoke to the city's remarkable diversity.
