By dusk, the snowfall had lessened,
The streets were gradually filling with people, the city's night market slowly coming alive. Along the long street, it was easy to spot Martial World People, weapons strapped to their backs, caked in dust and travel, gangs of three or five wandering the night,
In the street-side inns and taverns, raucous crowds shouted, drinking and making merry, while the gambling dens—already lit with lanterns—raged with even more fervor.
Of course, what most caught the eye,
were always those violent incidents,
For in this city, bloody events happened at almost every moment. Yet those living here were long numb to such things; at most they'd glance twice,
Someone brandishing a bloodstained blade swaggered off,
Someone else writhed and wailed in pain upon the snowy ground,
Passersby might only glance their way, then leave indifferently.
In the midst of the clamor, as darkness fell,
