Oxcross is a necessary stop on any journey through this desolate and forgotten valley, being home to a whole two traders who, despite their adjacence to mediocrity, are well known to strike a fair bargain with any traveller half so skilled in the complex way of negotiation as I. But be wary dear readers, for there are just as many if not more 'traders' in Oxcross who would gladly relieve you of your coin and boots. That being said, my praise must be given to this meager trading post for its admittedly transparent attempt at a certain verisimilitude of civilized behavior, like a sow in a particularly fine dublet. Mayhaps this delusional behavior developed naturally as a byproduct of the necessary act of lifting one's nose to avoid the smell of fishgut beneath one's feet. A quandary for the philosophers, without question.
Excerpt taken from "The Hinterlands: Navigating the Lawless Valley" by Guiseppe the Bard.
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