The Dock Borough was alive. It always was.
Ships crowded the harbor, their masts rising above the waterfront as sailors hauled cargo onto the docks. Drunken voices and laughter echoed through the streets, mixed with the occasional scream of some argument that had gone out of hand.
A light drizzle had turned the ground into a muddy mess—not that this district was ever a paragon of cleanliness, to begin with. Boots splashed through puddles as workers, sailors, merchants, and adventurers hurried from one place to another.
Adam watched the city's skyline behind him. In the rain, it looked even more beautiful. He eventually arrived at the designated warehouse.
It was an old, weathered building used by customs to temporarily store goods brought in from overseas. Crates and barrels filled most of the interior, leaving only narrow paths between them.
