The town square was the usual, people walking everywhere, the occasional carriage forcing the crowds to part. The ground was smoothed down stones, all different sizes and shapes.

In the middle was a fountain, a wishing well of sorts, with kids climbing around in it, dropping or picking up coins under the sun.

On the outside of town square were rows of old houses, people tipping hats to each other and wearing their Sunday best.

Marketers sold items from their stalls, shop owners showing off their new sales.

The bustle of the town and light surrounded you as you walked through the crowds.

Another thing that was frequent here: Street performers. Many of them. They'd come, sing, perform or dance, collect their revenue then leave.

Was it legal? Absolutely not. But these performers needed shillings to get by, and that was acceptable.

One in particular was dressed up, unlike the usual pitiful child in rags. A full jester costume, a hat that had fallen off ages ago, exposing his blonde locks to the light, peach tips ticking his neck.

He was currently performing, a contortionist, twisting into crazy positions, a dirty, torn bag laid infront of him, being filled up by passers-by.

His golden eyes were wide with adrenaline and playfulness, his small stature making him almost seem childish.