The melody from the cabaret was light and melodious, but it abruptly stopped when the patrol trumpet sounded, replaced by the soft sound of a street artist's instrument.
This is the night of Red Tide City. Its prosperity differs from the decadence of the Imperial Capital; it is a kind of ordered freedom.
Whether worker or noble, all can enjoy the night under the same lamp.
Even the poorest vagrant can drink a cup of inexpensive yet warming wine under the light.
A carriage slowly passed through the square. Merian leaned against the cushion, watching the lights flicker above the crowd.
Eventually, the carriage stopped in front of the theater. An attendant lifted the door, and the cold wind, along with snow, rushed in, causing Merian to shrink back instinctively.
Then he straightened his posture and gave a slight smile, like a gentleman who had learned to handle scrutiny.
