Main Street

The thoroughfare throngs with Windsor’s citizens moving between shopfronts, pubs, and the bus stop where travelers wait under flickering gas lamps. Cobblestones press hard beneath boots, reflecting the ruddy glow of tavern signs swaying in the evening breeze. Harried merchants shout last calls to patrons while children dart through shifting crowds, their excitement a counterpoint to the tension tightening Richard’s jaw. The street’s warmth contrasts sharply with the castle’s shadows, offering a false sense of sanctuary where Peinforte strides with predatory purpose, indifferent to the human tide. Windows rattle as she passes—less from wind than some systemic recoil in the town’s bones.