The carriage rolled slowly down the narrow, dusty streets of the lower city. The metal-rimmed wheels bumped rhythmically against the uneven stone pavement, making a loud, hollow grinding sound. Inside the carriage, Camilla sat comfortably on the soft velvet seat.
She rested her chin in her hand, looking out the small glass window. The busy streets were filled with poor commoners, dirty stalls, and the smell of cheap coal smoke.
Finally, the carriage slowed to a gentle stop.
Camilla looked out and saw the wooden sign of Allen's textile establishment. The shop looked small, quiet, and slightly run-down. The front display windows were clean, but they were completely empty of any bright, beautiful fabrics.
The carriage door opened with a soft creak. The driver, wearing his neat black uniform, stood by the step and offered his hand.
Camilla gathered the skirts of her simple brown traveling dress and stepped down onto the stone street.
