CHAPTER ELEVEN
We soon reached the outskirts of the humble town known as Scima. The streets had been laid out according to the designs of a madman such that they ran in all different directions and often intersected many times. Three-floor opulent old mansions stood nearly wall-to-wall with small hovels, though stately manors occupied all the lands around a small lake on the southeastern part of town. The general architecture was early medieval with an emphasis on thick wooden beams and walls of stones gathered from the now pristine fields. Pigsties and chickens dotted the landscape and the number of pubs outnumbered the churches.
“What do you think?” Ben asked me as we rolled into the crowds that wheeled and walked here and there.
I wrinkled my nose as we passed a hotel that had as
