Parched, exhausted, and quite ready to be in the market already, Izad clasped the leg of his trousers. Casting off his sandal and rolling up the right leg of his garment, he plunged his foot into the edge of the water. A torrent of sludge stirred from his foot, slowly contaminating the surrounding emerald green water with a murky brown, gratis the city’s legendary growing soil. He bent down, finding a clear spot in the water, and quenched his thirst. He was able to hear the cacophony of the port ahead, the bells of the canal masters’ post, and the screams of livestock being taken to market, but he knew not to be fooled into thinking the rest of the walk to the bazaar was a short one. Rinsing his foot and reaffixing his sandal, he turned back to his cart as a ship of sailors bound for Port Brym navigated the narrow channel between the rolling hills of wheat. One of the men near the stern stared back at Izad as the boat calmly slid through the water and gave a massive toothless grin before returning to his duties manning a guiding pole. Izad’s cart joined the slew of people flocking towards the city. He passed an elderly man accompanied by a rather fetching daughter, as their mule struggled to pull a fully loaded cart of peat up the hills. He could have sworn that she winked at him as he passed by, but not to get his hopes up, Izad blamed the wink on a roaming speck of stray dust. The cliff walls rose from the rich earth as the sun started to peak over the mountain tops, whisking away the last remnants of the morning dew. Not long now, he kept telling himself. He passed The Falling Feather outside of town, which, despite being silent now, he knew would be full of stubbly, red nosed sailors by the time the sun was at its zenith. Three children went scampering in laughter by his cart, the littlest one in the back nearly crashing into Izad, and she giggled and screamed as she made her best attempt to catch up with the others. He turned back for a moment just to check that one of them hadn’t pilfered any of his animal hides still drying on the back of his cart. Satisfied that all was accounted for, he once again wrapped his hands around the dry cracking wood of his cart handles and made his way up the steep road. There it was. The entrance to the great city of Ealdor Tor. It had been months, or perhaps over a year since he had been back. Surprisingly little had changed. He had to pause again to take in the crisp breeze off of the waters only to be forced back into motion by a minute old lady carrying a massive basket of carrots, screaming at him in an unintelligible tongue. Izad couldn’t help but laugh as the woman turned back and scowled as she clutched her precious carrot basket. The old bat must make this trip every day, he mused to himself. He had an undeniably long day ahead of him. He reached into his belt pouch, which was feeling extremely light, and knew he would have to make some sales today to afford his lodging for the evening. It shouldn’t be hard, he had lived well off of the money he made from his last visit, and this time should be even better. This time Izad would make his fortune. This time he had something worth selling. Ealdor Tor would be his making.
