It's early morning and Clint returns to the roads, Vanyel is circling high up catching the currents lifting him in the air.

Clint puts a hand up blocking the sun and raises the other waving at Vanyel. He banks south towards Candlekeep like they agreed while Clint had things to do up north in the city of Baldur's Gate.

Clint arrives at the southern edge of Rivington. Salt and fish permeate the air and wagons come and go on the well worn main road.

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He treks further northwards hearing the creak of wood being cyclically pushed down river, a wide inlet, lined with watermills churning away production. Wyrm's Crossing spans the expansive Chionthar boats of all sizes going east to west, west to east, and under the double laned bridge.

Clint follows traffic walking the crowded bridge. Clint thinks it’s a chaotic mess jam packed with buildings and structures jutting out of the bridge. The worst of it though wasn’t the claustrophobic feeling of the walls closing in, but the peddlers trying to hawk their wares. They wouldn’t take no for an answer and persistently inconvenienced travelers trying to shackle them with random trinkets of unknown quality.