"Wow, Your Grace. This place is awesome."
Cherion's voice was nearly lost the second he stepped off the carriage. The place was loud. Like, aggressively loud.
It wasn't just noise either, it was everything. People talking over each other, things clattering, someone yelling in the distance… the market hit him at once, like walking straight into chaos.
It felt... real. In the novels he'd read back in his own world, there was always an obligatory "market chapter" where the protagonist marveled at the local color, but the text never quite captured the grit of it. He didn't know the names of that strange, translucent charms that looked like trapped frost, or why those bundles of dried berries glowed with a dim, earthy red, he just knew they were exactly the kind of fantasy details he'd once only seen on a screen or a page. Now, the cold was nipping at his nose, and the noise of a thousand haggling voices was rattling his teeth.
