The convoy slowly entered the South Market District. The streets grew wider, and more pedestrians appeared.
The sight before her left Mary stunned.
South Market Plaza had begun to take shape. Though there were few buildings, they stood in orderly rows, and vendors had set up scattered temporary stalls along both sides of the stone-paved streets.
Hawkers called out one after another. The sweetness of dried fruit mingled with the savory saltiness of smoked fish in the air, and even a faint trace of mead drifted over from farther away.
"Come see the cotton cloth brought up from the south! As fine as snowflakes!"
"Fresh dried smoked fish, just finished drying over by Red Tide Lake!"
"Raisins and mead, special offerings from South Market!"
Sales pitches, bargaining, and laughter blended into a bustle Mary had not experienced in a long time.
As a merchant's daughter, Mary had a more discerning eye than most.
Those bolts of fine white cotton could only have come from the prosperous lands of the Southern Frontier. That basket of raisins and spices had arrived through the Southern Merchants' trade routes as well.
But there were also local Red Tide specialties: dried smoked fish, mead, coarse pottery, and wooden goods.
That meant goods from the South could reach this place, while Red Tide's own products were being produced systematically and entering the market.
Even more prosperous... than Frost Glaive City.
The thought drifted softly through Mary's mind, yet left her dazed for a long while.
Frost Glaive City, the former capital of the Northern Frontier, now lay in decline. The embers of war had yet to die out, the markets were desolate, vendors were scarce, and food was desperately short. Even money could buy nothing.
Yet here, people were trading and bargaining.
Their smiles held none