Korvosa: Mid-Erastus, 4707 AR
Amid the oppressive heat of mid-July, Old Korvosa finds itself ensnared in the clutches of summer's sweltering grip. The air hangs thick with humidity, a stifling embrace that clings to every surface and every soul navigating the labyrinthine alleys. The sky, normally a canvas of azure, is now a tapestry of rolling dark clouds, pregnant with the promise of an impending storm.
The Narrows churns restlessly, mirroring the city's unsettled mood. Seagulls wheel through the heavy air, their cries echoing a sense of foreboding. A distant rumble of thunder dances on the horizon, and the scent of rain mingles with the usual coastal aromas, stirring up the earthy perfume of wet cobblestones.
Despite the impending tempest, life in Old Korvosa perseveres. Street vendors, their wares shaded by makeshift awnings, continue their banter, their voices carrying an urgency that transcends the weather. The flickering lanterns struggle against the encroaching darkness, casting long, distorted shadows that seem to whisper secrets to those who pass by.
Castle Korvosa, perched on the heights, watches over the city like a brooding sentinel. Its towers pierce the gathering gloom, a stark reminder that change is inevitable. Unbeknownst to most, the currents of fate swirl in the heavy air, charged with a tension that hints at imminent upheaval.
As the first raindrops fall, splashing on the cobblestones and roofs, the city holds its breath. In the moments before the storm, Old Korvosa is a tableau of contrasts – the quiet before the tempest, the anticipation before the revelation. The destinies of seven individuals are but fragments of the larger tapestry, waiting to be woven into the unfolding drama of the Crimson Throne.