Astrin — Lower Market District
The sun had almost set, spilling long orange streaks through the narrow alleys. The deeper Liam went, the stronger the air smelled
But it wasn't the noise that drew him. It was the sign.
Carved from black wood and hung above a wide arched doorway, it read: Beast Trade Hall.
Below it, etched in smaller letters, was Registered by Royal Decree of Astrin.
So slavery here wasn't a back-alley crime. It was law.
He stood for a moment in front of the entrance, watching the people who came and went. Some wore silks and jewelry—nobles or merchants. Others wore armor, their expressions detached and cold. Every one of them carried the same air: ownership.
Liam exhaled quietly. He wasn't here out of desire. He wanted to see how this world functioned—to learn its order and hierarchy. If he was to build balance here, he needed to understand it first.
