The streets only made it worse. Shops so massive they could swallow Agro's finest boutiques whole. Display windows framed in headstone, enchanted glass showcasing gowns, weapons, artifacts, perfumes—one shop was selling mana pets lounging on velvet cushions like bored aristocrats. Everything screamed money. Not desperate money. Not flashy money.
Old money. The kind that doesn't rush. The kind that waits. The kind that looks at you and thinks, We'll see how long you last.
I exhaled slowly. King Vael and Queen Luna were right. Gods, I hated that they were right. "Breathing here feels expensive," I muttered. "I think I just lost five gold inhaling."
Joff snorted despite himself.
I leaned back, arms crossed now, gaze sharp, calculating. Agro was innovative. Agro was alive. Agro was growing at terrifying speed.
