Sophia marveled at how beautiful the flowers were this summer. Flower boxes tumbling with blooms lined every main road of Meris this time of year. It even held the nickname of the Green Port for the impressive skills of its gardeners and green witches.

But the flowers were thickest here by the fountain dedicated to the deeds of Jean, the first Rose Sorceress. Even the stone podium holding the plaque telling of her legend crawled with ivy.

Sophia cleaned her hands in the cold flowing waters, then disposed of the crumb riddled napkin in her lap. It had certainly been a good place to take her lunch.

Full from crusted lamb skewers and content with the perfume of so many flowers, Sophia set toward the busy market district, each step jingle-jangling from her full pocket of coins. She had been eyeing that vacant shop for some time now. Old Mamora had packed her bags and fled from her tax inquisition. Come fall, come winter, Meris would be in need for another local tailor.

Sophia smiled. Lucky her.