When thinking about crossing roughly half of the town to get from the inn we stayed at to Greg's smithy, all I could imagine were huge crowds of people occupying every single inch of the street.
From the carriages busying the middle of the town's road to scatter all sorts of wares throughout the city's shops like delivering goods like veins would deliver oxygenated blood to human organs to the masses of pedestrians rushing to go from point A to point B in their everyday struggle against life itself.
Then, I expected to see some kind of a massive crowd gathered out in the distance, where the town's adventurer's guild was supposedly located, with their crowd alone contributing at least a third of all of the town's foot-traffic, with the paths by the adventurers deciding which part of the town would be busiest and which would be spared most of the noise.
The reality, however, was often disappointing.
The town was rather active in the morning, there was no denying that.
