The City of Grinda rose from the sea like a mountain of carved stone, dwarfing every settlement Marsha had seen during her long journey. It was a fortress city built upon a colossal rock, five hundred metres from the mainland. Its back was pressed against a narrow, formidable pass between two sheer mountain ranges, forming a natural barrier between the land and the city. Before it, the open sea stretched to the horizon. Any enemy would have to approach by water or force their way through that narrow mountain corridor—both avenues rendered nearly impossible by Grinda's towering walls.
Their caravan joined the queue to enter while still winding through the mountain pass. The line was long, a slow-moving serpent of wagons and travellers, yet it advanced at a steady, almost imperceptible pace.
