A shady merchant carrying a pole with baskets on both ends kept trying to hustle Clint random odds and ends from silver spoons, figurines, and other knacks in the bins and wouldn’t let Clint pass unimpeded. Clint though learned a few tricks since he was here last. Clint points behind the man towards something attached to the basket and the man’s eyes light up at the potential of a new sucker setting the pole down and turning quickly to grab the bauble. Though when he turns his mark isn’t there anymore as if there was a mirage, a figment of his imagination.

Clint standing on the near-by roof stares down at the man who confusedly looks around him shaking his head in disbelief. He shrugs his shoulders tossing the bauble haphazardly back into the pile of collected junk and hurries to harass the next group of victims. Clint breathes out a held sigh and now understands why Vanyel favored the high ground looking back towards the north seeing a lone fortress flanked by wooden drawbridges.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

A dissipating shimmer disappears and Clint walks out of an alleyway nonchalantly towards the guarded bridge. An officiating member of the Flaming Fist stops all passing through the walls from walkers to wheels.

“State your business and your length of stay.” A monotone voice quickly recites.

“Sightseeing and a few weeks.” Clint claims noncommittally.

“Hhmph, yeah and you and everyone else” The official looks Clint up and down as if sizing him up. “Pay the toll, 1 silver.” Clint obliges, “Next.” Clint walks on through unmolested and out the other end across the second drawbridge luckily this side was more civilized.