As far as the eye could see, stone and wooden houses built along the slopes were densely packed together at varying heights. Narrow streets twisted and turned like a maze, with scattered lights flickering to life in the dusk.
A massive castle keep stood at the highest point like a crown, overlooking the entire city.
The clamor of voices, the neighing of pack animals, the clang of hammers from blacksmith shops, and the faint uproar spilling from taverns mingled with the complex smells of baked bread, cheap ale, spices, animal dung, and countless people living together. Like a surging wave, it instantly engulfed the caravan that had just emerged from the grim passageway.
Hawk let out a long breath, and much of the tension on his face eased.
He skillfully directed the caravan along a relatively broad main road, heading with clear purpose toward a certain district of the city.
The streets gradually grew livelier. Pedestrians, peddlers, mercenaries, adventurers, and merchants in all manner of clothing jostled shoulder to shoulder.
Curious, appraising, greedy, and indifferent gazes fell upon the travel-worn caravan from every direction, though most merely glanced at it before looking away.
Duke sat in the carriage like a quiet observer.
His Shadow Perception extended like invisible feelers, cautiously observing everything around him.
Faint energy fluctuations drifting through the air, malicious peering from shadowed corners, drunkards arguing outside taverns, the orderly footsteps of patrolling soldiers—an immense amount of information poured into his senses.
Led by Hawk, the caravan wound through several turns before finally stopping at the end of a relatively secluded alley filled with the smell of cheap liquor and noisy voices.
A weathered three-story building of stone and wood stood there. Above its entrance hung a soot-blackened wooden sign, carved with the rough image of a raven