The streets of Virindal throbbed with people. The hot sun beat down upon the sweating, shoving population of the centre of the modern world. Nobles on horseback attempted to pass through the hordes of denizens, armed guards shoving in front of them, attempting to part the waters of this sea of humanity. It seemed everyone was out on this day, for the entire city was celebrating the crowning of a new king. And yes, everyone was out, even the reclusive assassin Jahn Moorse. He pushed his way through the market district, past hawkers yelling their heads off in the holy name of 'Hot Sausages!', or 'Fresh Fish!". His hand gravitated to the cool steel of the blade tucked in his sleeve. He felt the sweat running down his forehead from his lank black hair. Breathed in, then out. Pulling his hat low over his face, he reviewed his plans. His hand returned to the cold metal of his dagger, the one thing in this city not crushed by this sweltering heat. He pressed his hand to it as if he could draw strength from its reserves of cold. He carried on.
Çok iyi yazmayı bırakma okurken eğlendim ------------------------------------------------------–---------------------------------- -------- -----------------☆☆☆☆☆
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