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The rooftops of Averine stand against the backdrop of a blue sky slowly greying as the morning threatens rain. The market was already busy, with some merchants setting up their stalls while others call their merchandise above the hustle and bustle in the street while the market guards keep a stroll nonchalantly about with their spears watching for thieves. A heavily built, tall man with a mop of messy black hair and even messier beard boasts about the quality of the Blacksteel arms and armour he is selling. Butchers, grocers, carpenters, jewellers, cloth merchants try their best to beat the competition and to sell their wares as the market gets busier and busier.

By the port a fishmonger wanders the docks with a wheel barrel full of his morning catch, peddling them to those he thinks might be interested. Rumour has it there was a murder in the early hours of the morning, a sailor off a ship just in from Delucia lost three card games in a row and accused his opponent of cheating, one thing lead to another and the sailor was stabbed leading to one of the three men involved being apprehended while the other escaped.

Outside the city the townsfolk from the surrounding farms plough fields and care for their cattle. A man in an ornate breastplate and matching morion carrying a pike heads towards the city gates with a bound and shackled, wolfish-looking man in tow. Even further afield the citizens of the Empire go about their daily lives with no knowledge of rumours or strange happenings. Save for the occasional blood feud, the rumour of horrid monsters sighted here and there, it would seem that all is well in Avelierys, and without so much as an insult or scandal involving the nobles for weeks one might wonder how long this apparent wellness can keep up.