Quaint marketplace in a bustling city.

The marketplace is a small pocket of peace in an otherwise heavily populated and loud city. It's nestled in the borders of the forest, where trees cast shadows over the tents and booths. It's located nearby a creek, close enough for the dirt to be wet brown and the grass lush green, but far enough for the sleazy man to rip off unsuspecting customers by selling jugs of clean water. Birds still leave their nests by the stalls; the sparrows have learned to steal fruit from the large woman by her farm shop.

Introverted consumers are negotiating with merchants who'd rather have a place to rent nearby the much larger marketplace in the center of Basell. You can hear whispered prices and deals being made. The shy customers must know what they're doing to get enough food for a week at the price of 3,900 auruna. A sigh escapes your lips; you wish you had their skill at haggling.

A young woman sits in the shade on a blanket feet away from you, strumming a battered stringed instrument. Her once-white dress is stained with mud and dirt, and she has two kids close to her- one young girl cupping her hands with pleading eyes and an older boy staring at each person who walks by. The musician looks nothing like the children, so you assume they were orphans that work together to survive. Dark bags are under the woman's eyes, and all three are thin as the paper you can see being sold for 300 aura per sheet. The girl reminds you of your daughter at home, and you consider tipping the lady- then realize you've little to no auruna. You avoid her dejected gray eyes.

To your left is a small outdoor pub. The smell of whiskey and warm rolls find their way to your nose. Men (and sometimes a spunky red-haired lady) would go there to flaunt their slightly-higher-than-yours value and blow hundreds of auruna for their pure enjoyment. Their wives never enjoyed the idea, but that didn't keep the man behind the bar from sliding a glass of whiskey. Gods, you would kill to at least try a shot of what made them beam like the sun. However, your money problems end your fantasy. You turn away from a stumbling drunk and the sound of clinking glasses.

Thunder rolls in the distance when you finally notice how dark the clouds are becoming. It's nothing you haven't seen before- Basell is practically renowned for being the port city that always gets flushed out from rain- but you ought to hurry up wit your errands and get home before the storm hits. You see the jewelry salesperson draw some curtains he claimed to be waterproof. You remember how he became far too arrogant and rich when the rumors started that Princess Ketarah Andere shopped there for he accessories. Why he didn't buy out a stall in the larger marketplace is beyond you.

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