The market was busier than usual, filled with people preparing for some local festival Jorghan hadn't paid attention to. Stalls brimmed with lanterns, silks, trinkets, and ornaments painted with bright festival colors. Children darted between the crowds with painted faces, carrying paper animals on sticks. The air smelled of roasting meat, sweet honeyed cakes, and incense drifting from shrines.
Jorghan moved through the crowds efficiently, purchasing bread, dried meat, fruit, and some herbs that would help with healing. The vendors knew him by sight now—the quiet foreigner who always paid fair prices and never haggled. To them, he was an oddity: too imposing to be ignored, yet never boastful, never cruel, never arrogant like the local lords.
