Chapter 169: The Golden City
I adjusted to the gray and white clothes I was wearing, prepared for undercover work. They were tight around the shoulders; I should have tried them on before buying them.
The morning sun cast a shimmering sheen over the golden walls of Goldwatch City. As it climbed higher, the city began to glow as if the walls were made of molten gold.
As that was happening, I had a front-row seat. I was walking in a seemingly endless queue along the gravel road, each of us awaiting our turn at the city gates.
Behind me, an elderly man gripped the reins of two sturdy donkeys, their coats dusty and their eyes weary from the journey. Ahead, a peculiar sight caught my attention—a man with three fingers, his knuckles white, hauling a heavy carriage without the aid of a mule. Despite the difficulty, a grim determination marked his face.
The air was thick with the scent of the morning's toil, earth mingling with the sharp tang of animal musk. Fortunately, the man before me spared me from the more pungent odors wafting from the individual behind me, who reeked of donkey and manure.
"Where are you from, young man?" the man with the donkeys asked.
"From a small town far east," I replied, turning to meet his gaze. "You might have heard of it if you're from the area. One of our farmers had a two-headed bull. Some called it a monstrous beast, but it worked on the farm and never harmed the farmer."
"Really? I'm from a village down south, so I haven't heard of it," the old man said, running his hand through the gray fur of his donkeys. "How big was the bull?"
"Big! Huge!" I looked around, finding nothing to compare the imaginary bull to. "You know those small mud houses? The ones that wash away and shrivel during Autumn."