They both stepped out of the modest cottage.
The morning air was crisp, touched with the faint scent of dew on stone.
The town of Bramwell was beginning to stir.
It was the first time Alaric had stepped outside in the open.
His eyes widened slightly, taking in the scene, so warm yet different from his old world.
He asked Sari a few questions, related to normal goods here and there, as they moved toward the market district, one of the busier quarters of the barony, where the early bustle had already begun.
The sun had barely cleared the horizon, its golden rays filtering through the arched rooftops and timber-framed facades, casting warm slashes across the stone pavements.
The market was nestled in a wide plaza. Stalls of every kind were being set up or already shouting for attention.
To the left, a stout woman arranged bolts of dyed fabric, maroons, forest greens, and sky blues fluttered in the wind like flags.
