The capital's streets were overwhelming.
Thornwick's crowds had seemed dense. This was suffocating. Bodies pressed from every direction. Merchants hawking wares at volumes that made ears ring. Cart wheels grinding over cobblestones. The constant din of a million people existing in compressed space.
Raze's Combat Reflex fired constantly. Tracking threats. Pickpockets. Aggressive vendors. Guards who looked more like thugs. His enhanced perception painted dangers everywhere.
"Stay close," he called back to his team.
They navigated toward the inn district. Buildings here were functional rather than beautiful. Three stories maximum. Cramped between neighbors. Signs advertised rates that made Thornwick's prices look generous.
The Copper Rest caught Raze's attention. Not because it looked good. Because it looked survivable. Clean windows. Decent maintenance. No obvious criminal activity outside.
Creak.
