Three Points Trading Post

Three Points Trading Post

You smell it before you see it.

Woodsmoke and hot iron drift on the air, threaded with the sharper bite of spices, tanned leather, and something sweet—fresh bread, perhaps—carried on the same wind that rattles loose signs and tugs at cloaks. The road narrows as you approach, as if funnelling you towards the settlement’s heart, and then the buildings appear: rough timber, practical stone, and roofs patched and re-patched, clustered close like they’re bracing against the wilds that press in from beyond.

First Impressions

Three Points feels like a place built for passing through rather than settling down. It welcomes coin more readily than stories, and most faces glance at you only long enough to decide whether you’re worth a second look. The market chatter is constant—calls, laughter, arguments, and the clink of trade—yet it never quite drowns out the deeper sounds underneath: the ring of hammer on metal, the creak of carts, the steady thud of boots on packed earth.

By day it is noisy, almost buoyant in its bustle. By evening, the same narrow lanes that felt merely cramped begin to feel watchful. Light collects in the market square and falls away quickly in the alleys, where footsteps echo and conversations drop to murmurs.

The Shape of the Place

Everything revolves around the market square—a rough hub of stalls and makeshift tables where traders hawk their wares and travellers linger with bundles at their feet, deciding whether to spend their last coins on food, repairs, or a bed.

From that centre, paths and streets break away in tight branches. It’s easy to believe the settlement earned its name from the way routes converge here: a stop where choices are made, where journeys split and rejoin, where a person can change direction—and sometimes disappear into the crowd without anyone asking why.

The Name Behind the Town

Three Points Trading Post is not an old village that happened to become busy. It was founded deliberately—built to pull trade into Meriquy and turn passing traffic into profit. The settlement is owned by House Harren, and even a first-time visitor can feel that it is managed like an investment: organised, watched, and always, quietly, counting coin.

Landmarks

• The Market Square
  The true centre of Three Points: crowded stalls, quick bargains, hot food, and the relentless noise of people trying to make a living. It’s the safest place to be seen, and the easiest place to find what you need—if you can pay.
• The Blacksmith’s Forge
  You find it by sound as much as sight. Smoke curls from the forge, and the air tastes faintly of coal and metal. The steady ringing draws a small knot of onlookers at times—travellers hoping for a quick repair, locals waiting for tools, anyone with a blade that’s seen too many hard miles.
• The Tavern
  Low-roofed and warm-lit, it’s the obvious refuge for those who arrive weary. The closer you get, the more the smells change: stew, spilled ale, damp wool drying too slowly. It’s where rumours settle like sediment—things said softly, traded for drinks, then carried out into the streets.
• The Tailor’s Shop
  A small place you might miss if you weren’t looking, made noticeable by neat displays and the faint, steady rhythm of work within. Inside, two women run the shop together—one plump and warm in her manner, the other older, silver-haired, and sharp-eyed. Between them there’s a practical kindness: measuring, mending, advising, and quietly noticing more than they say.
• The Apothecary
  Narrow and a little crooked, with a front that looks like it has been nudged out of place over the years. Its sign is shaped like a sprig of belladonna—painted in faded greens and purples—and it swings slightly even when the air is still. The shelves inside promise remedies, tonics, and poultices, though supply can be uncertain when shipments don’t arrive on time.
• The Watch Tower
  You notice it once you’ve been in Three Points long enough to realise the streets seem to tilt your gaze upward. The tower rises above the clustered rooftops—stone at the base, timber higher up, built for function rather than beauty. From below, it looks weather-worn and stubborn, a constant silhouette against the sky.It serves as a visible reminder that Three Points is meant to be watched. Whether that watch feels protective or intrusive depends on who you are, and what business you have in town. On clearer days you can sometimes make out movement along the upper levels—shapes pausing at the railing, eyes scanning the roads and the edges of the surrounding wilds.
• Harren Hall
  Ask for it in the market and someone will point up the slope without looking—because everyone knows where House Harren keeps its seat.Harren Hall is a huge mansion set a short walk away from the trading post proper, five to ten minutes uphill depending on your pace. The climb pulls you out of the noise of the square and into quieter air, where the smells of smoke and spice fade into wind and pine. From below you can sometimes glimpse it between branches and rooftops: stone and timber built to last, standing higher than the town it owns.
  It is the Harren family’s residence, but it also functions as the closest thing Three Points has to a town hall. When disputes become “official,” when permits and tariffs need seals rather than handshakes, when people speak of bringing matters before a council, this is where the path ultimately leads—even if most travellers never step beyond its gates.

People and Atmosphere

Three Points is a trading post in the truest sense: people come here to buy, to sell, to wait for the next leg of their journey. Traders with bright scarves and quick tongues. Carters with dirt-caked boots. Locals who know exactly which stalls are honest and which ones will lighten your purse twice over. And travellers like you—tired, hopeful, and trying not to look too lost.

If you stand still long enough, you begin to feel the unspoken rules. Don’t flash wealth. Don’t start fights in the square. Don’t wander unfamiliar alleys after dark unless you’re confident you can handle what finds you. Most folk won’t bother you if you keep moving and keep your hands where they can be seen.

Authority and Unease

There is order here, but it isn’t the clean, comforting sort. You hear a name repeated with casual certainty—Lord Harren—spoken like a warning wrapped in politeness. His influence sits in the streets through the men who invoke him, and they carry themselves as if the law is something they can loan out when it suits them.

In the bright noise of the market, it’s easy to believe you’re safe. In the quieter places—where the lantern light doesn’t quite reach—it becomes clearer that some travellers are seen as opportunities. The trading post can be generous to those who know how to navigate it… and merciless to those who do not.

What You Can Get Here

• Repairs and supplies: tools, basic gear, patchwork fixes for travel-worn equipment.
• Food and rest: hot meals in the square, and a warm tavern for those who can pay for a room.
• Mending and clothing: practical tailoring, repairs, and advice on what will survive the road.
• Remedies: simple medicine and potions when the apothecary has stock.
• Information: rumours, warnings, and the kind of directions that are only half about roads.

Traveller’s Notes

• Stay in the market square if you’re unsure where you’re going. The crowd is protection.
• Keep your coins close, and your attention closer—especially as the light fades.
• Eyes are always on the roads. Don’t assume you’re unnoticed just because nobody approaches you.
• If someone invokes Lord Harren’s name at you, listen carefully. It’s rarely said without purpose.