An old but sturdy little carriage rattled along the muddy track leading to the outskirts of Glory City.
At the reins sat an elderly man with graying hair and a face deeply etched by years of hardship.
As he deftly guided the carriage around the larger potholes, he couldn't help turning back once more to address his sole passenger:
"Young man, let me nag you one last time. That place you're headed to... it's been anything but peaceful lately. Even the City Guard has stepped up patrols around there. I understand wanting a little excitement. You're young, after all... but there's really no need to go somewhere so remote and dangerous."
He paused, lowered his voice a little, and offered an alternative with a conspiratorial look that said he understood perfectly:
"If you really want some excitement, let me point you in the right direction. Head back into town, to the backstreets and alleys of the slums near the foot of the Old City Wall in the lower district. Not many people around, plenty of twists and turns, and you're unlikely to get caught."
"And my granddaughter said the Gray Rat Gang that used to hole up there was... uh, cleared out by someone powerful. So it's safe now, too. Guaranteed to be better than going all the way out to a cemetery!"
Greg sat in the gently swaying carriage, resting with his eyes closed. At those words, the corner of his mouth twitched, followed by his eyelid.
Come on, old man... I'm practically at my stop. Why are you suddenly taking this conversation straight into dirty territory again?
He opened his eyes, helplessness in his amber gaze, and made one final, earnest attempt to explain:
"Sir, I think you've misunderstood something. I'm really going there... on proper business. And