Mateus was sulking around the city streets, generally trying to avoid conflict, and such, the busy market air being filled with a cacophony of voices and steps, full of smells that, typically might be pleasant, mixing into a nauseating aroma, a dreadful smog in the air, passing by people with ailments in the street "Please, Sir! Some Shillings? I-..It would help me..perhaps find a tonic of some sort for my disease? Please, Sir?" The peasant, seemingly plagued, tugged weakly on Mateus' cloak "Please, Sir-!"

"No! Uhm- Let me go! I don't wish to be sick like you!"