The Record Belongs to Anonymous
Kael moved quickly through the crowd. A few people looked his way, though most only glanced once. Kael was large enough to attract attention under normal circumstances, and walking around with red hair, battered armor, bloodstained clothing, a damaged helmet covering his head and steel gauntlets that looked as though someone had attacked them with an industrial saw did not help.
Fortunately, climbers returning from Floors in terrible condition were hardly unusual. Kael kept moving toward Andre's workshop, following the route he still remembered as the district gradually changed around him. Shops and small peddlers spreading their wears on the ground, stalls selling food and spice and blade at once, and finally equipment shops were the last before the path gave way to Andre's smithy.
He heard Andre before he saw the workshop.
"I SAID FUCK OFF!"
Kael smiled. "Yep."
He had definitely found the right place.
