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The Grand Bazaar is the second lore to be written. It was released on 11 Aug 2011. It can be found on the 8Realms website, here.

The Grand Bazaar.png
By Paul I

My supplies exhausted and my shoes in tatters, I find the child's camp on high ground.

The smell of his dead campfire lingers in the air. Around it, there are footprints - footprints of men. The marks are hours old. They are long gone.

Then I notice it, nestled in a crevice at the base of a tree trunk: the child's yellow metal cylinder.

I pull the cylinder from its hiding place. It's heavy and cold to the touch, wet with dew. Examining the strange, dead eyes at either end, I'm drawn to mimic the child - I hold one end up to my eye and point the other in the direction of the men's footprints.

Through the cylinder, I see a large town. At its heart billow the tents of a bazaar - a bazaar of such size and variety I've never seen before. Distant noises rise from the bazaar: the calls of traders, the chatter of the crowd.

Twisting the cylinder, I make larger an outdoor kitchen, a boar on a spit. My stomach growls with hunger; I place the cylinder in my knapsack, pick up my broken spear and descend towards the town in search of food.

The marble buildings gleam in the afternoon heat. From the steps of the village centre, a dark woman in green surveys the bazaar with a benevolent smile. She notices me, frowns, turns into the shadows, whispers to an aide. Quickly, I hide myself in the crowd and continue my search for food.

A trader beckons me. His beady eyes and yellow teeth form an unreal grin as he eyes my knapsack. Conscious that the metal cylinder is jutting out, I turn to shield it from his gaze.

"You look hungry."

I offer my spear in barter. The trader takes it disinterestedly, and hands me a small basket of bread.

I gorge myself on the bread - my belly aches with relief! - and yet I sense predatory eyes on me. I'm being watched - there's a flash of green in the shadows, I turn to look but -

"You must be tired," the trader begins. He's not smiling. "Follow my boy. He'll take you to the inn."

A scrawny boy of 9 or 10 appears by my side, holds out his hands to take my knapsack and bread. I glare at him, and he relents. "Come," he says.

I follow the boy, and we make our way through the crowds.