Morning came to the Royal Capital, and the moisture hanging over the Canal District had yet to fully disperse.
Veylin walked down an alley paved with uneven flagstones.
Artisans carrying toolboxes and vendors pushing wheelbarrows laden with breakfast passed him by.
He followed a young man, keeping neither too close nor too far behind.
The young man wore a well-tailored linen jacket of decent quality, but its style and color were utterly unremarkable, allowing him to blend neatly into the crowds in the streets and alleys.
He was Tristan, Marquis Lorenzo's second son.
Veylin had obtained Tristan's itinerary for the day from an informant at the Mercenary Guild and decided to verify the value of that information himself.
The two entered the Royal Capital's Artisans' District, one behind the other.
The clang of smithies, the rasp of saws in carpentry workshops, and the clatter of looms in weaving shops blended together here.
Veylin leaned against a fruit stall and picked up a green-skinned hard-shell fruit, pretending to examine it while keeping all his attention on Tristan.
Tristan entered a sizable saddlery.
Leather and half-finished goods hung throughout the shop, which carried the distinctive mingled smell of tanning agents and leather.
He ignored the assistant who approached him and instead walked to a corner of the workshop.
There, an old master craftsman was leading two apprentices in processing a horse's belly hide freshly pulled from a curing vat.
He was particularly interested in the relationship between the master and his apprentices.
Veylin tossed a copper coin to the stallholder and tucked the rock-hard fruit inside his jacket.
The description in Lilia's letter surfaced in his mind.
"...He is different from other nobles. He has no interest in banquets or poetry, yet he will spend an entire afternoon studying how a team