After finally purchasing the bakery's necessities, a hefty bag of flour slung over one shoulder and a basket of fresh ingredients in his hand—Ivaim didn't head straight back to the bakery.
The thought of warm ovens and rising bread could wait.
Instead, his steps veered toward the heart of the bustling marketplace, where a growing crowd could be seen to be forming itself.
Curious, Ivaim followed the murmur of voices and the rhythmic clang of steel meeting steel, his pace quickening.
He soon found himself at the edge of a lively gathering near the town square, where a crude but sturdy fighting arena stood.
The structure was little more than a circle of packed dirt, bordered by wooden posts strung with ropes to keep the spectators at bay. Despite its modest design, it pulsed with energy, drawing in merchants, townsfolk, and travelers alike.
