As we walked deeper into the city, the mismatched buildings gave way to something more organized. Farms first, their crops growing in neat rows behind low stone walls. Then ranches where strange animals I couldn't name watched us pass with too-intelligent eyes. And finally, stalls and shops crowding both sides of the road, their wares spilling onto the street itself.
The buildings we'd passed at the outskirts had been shops too, I realized. But there was a difference. Those outer stalls had been cramped, desperate things with merchants hawking from doorways. Here, the shops had proper storefronts. Glass windows. Signs that weren't hand-painted. The further in we walked, the more legitimate everything looked.
'Location determines legitimacy, even in a criminal city.'
