Chapter 7As the first rays of dawn streaked gold across the clear, blue-green sky, Bron D’Extrian, clad in civilian attire as opposed to his normal loincloth, slunk out of the palace. With a plan firmly in mind, he hastened into Wynorian, heading straight for Harrix Row in the south end.
This district of the capital city, an area encompassing several garbage-strewn blocks of over-crowded tenements, housed many of the Queendom’s criminal element. Amid the endless taverns and brothels and gambling dens, mortals freely engaged in all vices, and as Bron sidestepped piles of refuse, puddles of urine and vomit, and drunken and snoring beggars blocking his path along the cobblestones, he pulled his cloak around his face to shield his nose from the offensive mephitis. Buried in his pocket, his fr
