Morning dawned over Greyvale like a gradual reveal.
From the eastern horizon, pale golden light spilled between distant towers and tiled roofs, washing over spires, bridges, and countless stacked districts.
The city stirred to life as it always did, not with a single sound but with a layered tide of activity: merchants lifting their shutters, carriages rattling over cobblestones, workers calling to one another across balconies, and the aroma of baked bread mingling with iron and damp morning mist to create the familiar perfume of civilization.
Greyvale was bustling. It always was. Yet nowhere was that truth more palpable than in the Gryphon District or as many now referred to it, the Adventurer District.
The name change had crept in quietly at first, talked among merchants who moved their stalls closer together, tavern owners who expanded their seating, and mercenary bands who no longer used "Gryphon" when giving directions.
