Chương 424: 13.i

Fret not mother, though they call it the silent city, I've found the tales to be a disappointing exaggeration. While the usual bustle of the markets and the heavy tolls of a bell cannot carry anywhere near as far as you'd expect it's hardly silent. People still speak, but in close little huddles, you can still hear the sound of the hinges squeal from the door of my lodgings on entering.

Hounds still whine and beg, children still shriek at inopportune times and all around all the noise and distraction of life persist. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. They just are muffled faster with distance, normally I could hear a silver haepunny dropped into a bucket of water from clear across a room. But in the so-called 'silent' city of Ghergeintat I must admit you need to be by my measure within ten feet to make it out. Hardly silent!

-Excerpt from the Letters of Olan Hodgson.