In the early morning, sunlight had just pierced the thin winter mist, shining on the bustling crowd outside Town.
Most were farmers from nearby villages, carrying things like chickens, ducks, meat, and eggs in their hands or on their backs, ready to sell them in Town for money to buy winter supplies.
Most of them knew one another, chatting as they made their way into Town.
Some complained that the temperature had dropped too quickly that winter, freezing vegetables they had not had time to harvest, while others said the grain harvest had been poor that year, forcing them to sell some of the hens they had originally kept for eggs because they could no longer afford to feed them.
Others, however, boasted about how plump and sturdy the pigs they had raised that year had grown. Even after keeping some meat for themselves, they could still sell the rest in Town for a good sum, drawing envious looks from their fellow travelers.
Of course, some were surely harboring jealousy, but seeing how strong and sturdy the man boasting was, they did not dare provoke him. They merely averted their eyes, refusing to look at the half pig carcass and other farm produce on the ox cart behind him.
Of course, as these people chatted, their gazes would occasionally stray toward a space in the procession that the crowd had deliberately left clear.
A man and a girl were there, also making their way slowly toward Town.
They wore butterfly-patterned haori of similar designs. From their clothes to their looks, they clearly did not come from an ordinary family, and in this age of rigid class distinctions, the farmers naturally did not dare approach them.
The girl was petite, her black hair tied into a bun and secured at the