Jul 19, 2022 2:05 pm
The corners of Founders' Square are marked by statues which are said to depict those who built Iskandar, though it's impossible to know for sure as the ancient statues are unidentifiable thanks to the ravages of time, weather, war, and generations of vandals.
It's not long past midday but the square's already dotted with merchant stalls and tents being set up. A few are gaudy and fine, but most are modest affairs. Before dark, the above-ground Night Market will fill the cobbled square and spill beyond its borders, though it's nothing to rival the Grand Bazaar. The part that's hidden away beneath the square, that some call the Under-Market, is something else entirely. Known only to the street-wise, it seems almost a living, breathing thing.
You descend into the city's underbelly into a world even Tilma never imagined could exist down here.
The system of subterranean cisterns is crammed with vendors and peddlers who've put up stalls, or erected elaborate platforms, or simply squatted on worn rugs. Every sort of trade you can think of, whether legal or otherwise, goes on here. You see a gap-toothed man hawking sweet treats. Over there, perfumes in crystal vials are on display in front of a ramshackle stall. A blind woman sells a dizzying array of spices. A pot-bellied dwarf paddles a raft down a water channel, his floating distillery loaded with kegs of moonshine. Hooded figures conduct whispered transactions in the shadows.
Berry is in his element here. There's something else the gnome knows that will help allay Laurent's fears. By ancient tradition, the Night Market, both above and below, is a strict no-violence zone. Even the most bitter enemies can run into each other here without fear as no one would dare violate this one-night truce.
It's not long past midday but the square's already dotted with merchant stalls and tents being set up. A few are gaudy and fine, but most are modest affairs. Before dark, the above-ground Night Market will fill the cobbled square and spill beyond its borders, though it's nothing to rival the Grand Bazaar. The part that's hidden away beneath the square, that some call the Under-Market, is something else entirely. Known only to the street-wise, it seems almost a living, breathing thing.
You descend into the city's underbelly into a world even Tilma never imagined could exist down here.
The system of subterranean cisterns is crammed with vendors and peddlers who've put up stalls, or erected elaborate platforms, or simply squatted on worn rugs. Every sort of trade you can think of, whether legal or otherwise, goes on here. You see a gap-toothed man hawking sweet treats. Over there, perfumes in crystal vials are on display in front of a ramshackle stall. A blind woman sells a dizzying array of spices. A pot-bellied dwarf paddles a raft down a water channel, his floating distillery loaded with kegs of moonshine. Hooded figures conduct whispered transactions in the shadows.
Berry is in his element here. There's something else the gnome knows that will help allay Laurent's fears. By ancient tradition, the Night Market, both above and below, is a strict no-violence zone. Even the most bitter enemies can run into each other here without fear as no one would dare violate this one-night truce.
