The rain was still falling, but it was no longer a suffocating, icy downpour. It was a welcome rain that washed away the dust of the past.
The gloom above Zellheim, the Royal Capital, was gradually thinning. Faint shafts of golden light shone through gaps in the clouds, as though about to tear apart the oppressive pall that had lingered for so long.
Rain washed the Salmon District's stone streets to a shine, stripping away their greasy grime. The sea breeze brought a crisp freshness to the air-the scent of rebirth.
Along both sides of the street, shops that had stood silent for so long took down their shutter boards. The clatter of repairs rang out everywhere.
The busiest of them all was the shop bearing the Gray Swamp Trading House sign. Crowds gathered outside, optimism and hope shining in their eyes.
The queue stretched through two blocks. Citizens in patched linen clothes hunched their shoulders, clutching a few copper coins. Rain dripped from their hat brims into the puddles, sending ripples spreading outward.
At a street corner, beneath an unassuming awning.
Prince Wilander pulled his hood low, hiding a face that would have caused a sensation. He watched the long queue in the distance, his voice slightly muffled. "So this is the 'sea-salt potato' you mentioned?"
"Ugly as it might be."
Veylin stood to the prince's left, holding a black umbrella. His gaze rested on the hands of the citizens emerging from the shop. They carried dirt-covered tubers with skins as rough as a toad's, yet treasured them so much that they tucked them straight inside their clothes to warm them with their bodies.
"It tolerates saline and alkaline soil, has a short growing cycle, and contains one and a half times the starch of ordinary wheat." Veylin pushed