The steam-powered gondola creaked gently as we approached Gearlock District, its brass fixtures gleaming in the setting sun. I watched Zora from the corner of my eye as she pressed her face against the window, her expression a mixture of wonder and exhaustion. We'd been travelling for hours, and I knew she was hungry – I'd deliberately suggested we skip lunch at the last stop, knowing what awaited us in Gearlock.
"You're in for a treat. The Gearlock District isn't just a trade hub; it's a culinary paradise. Food here is more than sustenance—it's a form of expression, a kind of artistry."
As the gondola slowed into the station, its movements graceful and precise, a hiss of steam escaped the doors as they opened. The gondola station was a masterpiece of dwarven engineering, its soaring crystal dome catching the last rays of sunlight and transforming them into a thousand dancing rainbows.
