The streets of Gryphon District buzzed with an energy unlike any before. It wasn't the chaos of riots or impending danger; rather, it was the vibrant sound of prosperity announcing itself.
Overlapping conversations, clattering carts, hawkers shouting deals they would never honor, hurried footsteps striking stone, and the ever-present hum of people who believed that if they moved quickly enough, fortune might just notice them.
Sunlight poured generously between the buildings, glinting off freshly painted shop signs and hastily assembled stalls. The air was thick with a delightful mix of roasted meat, spiced bread, sweet pastries, and oils sizzling in iron pans.
Amid this bustling current of bodies and noise waddled a lone figure at his own pace. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, and his posture was stiff in a way that suggested he was trying, and failing, to appear dignified.
