The city square buzzed with rising tension as more citizens trickled in from the alleys and outer wards. Cloaked figures, stone-worn traders, mercenaries in mismatched gear, and soot-faced scavengers packed into the plaza, shoulders brushing, eyes wary.
Mothers clutched their children tightly, thin arms wrapped around thinner frames. Hungry-eyed boys and girls peeked out from behind worn cloaks, their cheeks hollow, their fingers stained with dirt and ash.
A few clutched chunks of stale bread or half-rotten mushroom like treasure, gnawing quietly while their parents stared ahead, waiting for whatever this so-called "announcement" was supposed to be.
Some families sat on crates or broken steps. An elderly Dwarrow woman gently fanned her grandson with a folded scrap of parchment, while nearby, a Draknir couple shared a single blanket between them and their brood of five.
They'd all come for the same reason: the promise of food.
