This trading square was split down the middle:
Half sat within the centaur settlement—buzzing with voices and heated bargaining.
The other half sprawled across open grasslands with scattered folks, mostly spell-slingers keeping their identities under wraps.
Carlos's getup didn't raise any eyebrows in this part of the district where everyone was bundled up tight—totally normal.
He posted up at a small stall near the two Shadow Hammer Servants, playing the part of a browsing customer, picking through the merchandise.
Suddenly, a pitch-black fragment caught his eye.
If he wasn't seeing things, this was exactly what he'd been hunting for from those ruins, complete with patterns that were actually ancient script.
"See something you fancy?
Buy it quick if you want it—don't waste my time."
The stall owner was a black-robed figure with a seriously pissy attitude.
To dig up this batch of goods, he'd lost a precious piece of spirit gear.
