One week remained before the grand opening.
Lootwell now felt like a civilization holding its breath before speaking.
The Market District had become the clearest proof of that.
Even before outsiders arrived, the place was already alive.
People from every district came there now with the bright, competitive energy of those who had discovered that prosperity was not merely something to defend, but something to enjoy.
The broad avenues between merchant halls and display pavilions were full of movement. Stalls rose in elegant rows beneath high canopies of crafted stone and metal lattice. Water channels curved through the district in clean lines, reflecting banners, lanterns, and the glow of enchanted windows.
Each district had brought its own specialties.
And because the people of Lootwell were still, at heart, themselves—
they had turned the whole thing into a contest.
Lucien heard it before he even stepped fully into the central plaza.
