Ad aspera

Unus arrived in Tirren while traveling from the northeast. He had never been to such large cities before, but he had read that they were a concentrated repository of vice, where there were 10 sinners and 1000 sins per square meter. And finding a righteous person in such places was harder than finding a virgin in a brothel.
- Although, technically, a virgin could be there. Sinners often use other orifices for intercourse... - Unus pondered.

As he passed through the eastern gates of Tirren, Unus, absorbed in philosophical thoughts, certainly could not pay attention to two men in cloaks with the city's coat of arms, halberds in their hands, and a bored expression on their faces. But they paid very close attention to the paladin's distinctive Ardorsk cloak, perked up, instantly assumed a formal stance, and, after exchanging gestures that only they understood, surrounded Unus as soon as he was outside the walls of Tirren.
-- Ahem... esteemed sir, -- the first, younger and thinner, began hesitantly, blocking the paladin's path with his halberd.
-- Please come with us, -- the second finished. There were no insignia on the guards' uniforms, but from the second's stern tone, it was clear that he was in a higher position.

The bloody haze finally cleared from his eyes - Krait Karlsson blinked and found himself in a completely unfamiliar place.
Behind him lay a field, once overgrown with tall grass up to his waist, with wild flowers and bushes, now riddled with craters, trampled, and turned inside out. Krait raised his hammer closer to his eyes and nodded with satisfaction - he had, after all, killed that damned mosquito that had angered him by daring to attack his flesh.
Shaking the dirt off his weapon, he looked around and saw in the distance something that resembled a road or path, leading somewhere to the southwest, towards a settlement barely visible from here.
Shrugging, he headed there.

The lime-covered roads throughout the country are another achievement that makes Fendrin superior to the rest of the North. Although March was rainy, the road could be walked or ridden without sinking ankle-deep in wet mud. Behind Krait, the sound of approaching hooves and wheels could be heard. Three riders, four on foot, and a dozen mules - at a signal from the one riding first, they slowed down. The caravan leader, a stout, ruddy man in his forties with a neat beard, stared expectantly at Krait, either looking for some kind of justification from him, or simply forgetting what he wanted to say.

Added 11 minutes ago

And where are the shadows and shelters more abundant there? (From the northeast, please)

The one who appeared before the city gates of Duncaniël presents no more interest to the half-asleep guards, who are leaning lazily against the wall and leisurely consuming their simple breakfast of bread and beer, than the sparrows pecking at the crumbs under their feet. One of them, stocky and in his early thirties, looked intently at the elf, trying to figure out if he had seen him before, but Knud's face was so ordinary that the poor fellow could not even remember whether this was a local citizen returning or a stranger arriving. He could pass without hindrance, but perhaps Knud would want to find out something about Tirren from the guards.
(this all happens before Unus)