The atmosphere of the Godhand Bazaar's upper floor was eerily silent and distressingly calm despite the activity occurring below.
Forgers hammered away, turning heaps of metal into identifiable shapes. Sweat flew, ashes and brittle impurities falling with rustling sounds.
Alchemists similarly engaged in their professions. The shuffling of scampering feet moving to and fro was accompanied by the noxious gurgles of brewing potions. They were currently unpalatable and perhaps a danger to ingest. However, the failures, successes, and tricks of the trade were meticulously documented under the strict orders of Aspaira and Sorcia.
There was additional clamor from the first and second floors, which couldn't be heard on the highest floor. As Kieran glanced around the large room, he took in the surreal feeling of being back, of the stark differences he felt.