Morning in Barcken broke with a muted sort of liveliness—merchants crying their wares, cart wheels clattering over cobblestones, and the smell of spiced meats drifting through the air. It wasn't the grandeur of Virencia's capital, nor the stifling quiet of the Wasteland—it was something in between. A city that survived on trade, humming with a rhythm of its own.
Luke and Ilyrana stepped into that current with purpose. The plan had been set the night before, and now it was time to act. Coins clinked softly in the pouch Luke kept hidden beneath his robe, half of their currency left from what they'd earned and hoarded. Enough, he told himself, if they spent wisely. Enough to prepare for whatever lay ahead.
