It had taken half a solstice to find the wandering market of Mierath. Built atop the shell of a sea beast, the market drifted aimlessly across the Satin Seas, carrying treasures only found in legends. Between impossibly narrow alleys, merchants bargained in every language over gold from sunken empires, silks embroidered with star crystals, and incense trapped in amber. Yet Mierath’s true wealth did not come from gold or cloth. But from something far more precious: spices.
 
Tastes like: Towers of sun-warmed spices, where cinnamon, ginger, and chicory hold the scent of salt air and weathered wooden barrels.