Chapter 86
We descended into Emna by late afternoon, the sun still high but dulled by a thick layer of dust that clung to the city's outer roads like a second skin. It wasn't the kind of place that eased you in gently; it sucker-punched you in the face, a sensory overload of noise and smells of all kinds.
The first thing I noticed was the sheer amount of activity throughout the city. The streets were wide but overcrowded, packed with bodies, carts, and animals all moving in different directions. A small group of jugglers collided with a preacher, who immediately began shouting about eternal damnation, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of sounds.
A parade pushed through one road, its participants waving flags and singing off-key. A protest spilled into the next, shouting slogans about taxes or tariffs, or maybe it was about turnips; it was hard to tell over all the noise.
