The line moved at a snail’s pace, and a surprising number of vehicles and pedestrians were turned away. It wasn’t just dejected-looking merchants that moved in the opposite direction, but I spotted carts covered in heavy furniture, chests spilling over with clothes, and dusty chandeliers too.

Meanwhile, the pedestrians walking away from Eldar’s Port were in a considerably worse condition. They wore ripped clothes, many featured bruises or eyebrows crusted with dried blood.

“Poor saps,” Tom said. “They likely fell for the trap that is Eldar’s Dream.”

“Ah yes. I’ve heard the stories.” Hruk sighed. “Equal opportunities if you’re willing to put in the work. Anyone can be a success if they put their mind to it.” He looked away from the onward traffic, shaking his head. “Every big city has one of those, doesn’t it? My mother told me the stories. It’s not about what you do or what you make, but who you know. Grease the right palm and life is easy. Otherwise, the hurdles in your path are infinite.”

“There are some cities where that is genuinely true,” Tom replied. “In most, it requires you to achieve guild membership first. If you’re a craftsman, though, it’s the dwarven lands where you must go. Skilled and talented artisans are treated as well as royalty there. In fact, I hear some blacksmiths in Scwartzberg even put the city’s ruler on their waiting list. That’s unless you’re a kobold, of course. Dwarves don’t particularly like anyone that claims draconic lineage.”

“And they’re okay with green folk?” Hruk asked. “My tribe had so many stories of dwarf and goblin heroes facing off against one another.”

“Well, dwarves are wary of anyone that’s not one of their own. Look at the Banking Guild. It only grants dwarves memberships and the lucky kobold can get work in a peon role, too.” Tom stood up straight in his seat and waved at a passing member of the city guard. The smile on his face suggested familiarity. Unfortunately, the woman just grunted and moved on. He continued the discussion in a more dejected tone when compared to earlier. “However, you can prove yourself with your crafting prowess in their cities. The handful of times I’ve visited Schwartzberg, I’ve seen goblins, humans, elves, and several other races being treated just fine. I believe the mountainous regions surrounding the city are full of powerful magic beasts, after all. The Adventurer’s Guild allows everyone membership.”

“Except kobolds?” I asked.

“As a bard, you likely have heard tales of dragons seeking treasure, haven’t you?” Once again, Tom shot me a confused look. I could do little more than shrug. If Eldar’s Port had a library, it would do me a world of good to spend an hour a day poring over the disk’s popular tales. “Well, dwarves are the ones that produce most such treasure. They have the disk’s best smiths and jewellers, after all. As a result, dragons seek dwarven vaults to rob or turn into their nests. Since kobold-kind claim to have draconic heritage and many scholars agree with their claim, dwarves keep them under a close watch. In Schwartzberg, the local kobolds live in the under city and serve as servants, doing the jobs no dwarf would like to do.”

“Strange,” I commented. “My master should’ve focused on more than just music for my education. I feel like a dunce when it comes to the popular tales and history.”

“I’d suggest you sort yourself out, lad,” Tom told me. “No one wants a bard that can’t tell good stories. Otherwise, you’re no more than a travelling musician. Gleemen need over one method of entertainment. I’d say you have enough Charisma to hold a crowd’s attention and to get them to listen to you. Might as well make the most of it.”

“When you’re right. You’re right.”

We fell silent when a fight broke out at the gate. Much to our surprise, the inbound vehicle was the best maintained and polished in the queue and its passengers got into an argument with the guard. The exchange remained verbal until a gnome wearing the city's crest poked the challenger with his staff. The weapon appeared tinkered with a strange contraption atop it, but lacked the rough and scavenged appearance of goblin construction.

Then the dwarven and small-footed halflings travelling with the caravan rushed to the man's defense, bearing fists. A brawl broke out and goading ensued. Much to our relief, spears remained slung to backs, and no one drew their bladed weapons. It took a robed elf, conjuring a pillar of ice between the two squabbling sides for the fight to end. We didn't get to listen in on the following conversation, but the caravan was allowed in. However, the accompanying escort remained outside the gates.

The curious crowd dispersed not long after. Inbound and outbound traffic started moving once again. The vetting at the gate got more intense afterwards, and as we got closer, I got a better look at the offending guards. While most wore a crest featuring a shield and a pier within, the arseholes showed off a pair of scales balancing eyeballs on their lapel. Most of them were gnomes, but I spotted a couple of humans bearing the emblem, too.

"Alright, which of you is in charge here?" One of the latter group asked. The man's shaved head featured fresh razor cuts, and sickeningly sweet scent rose filled my nostrils.

"I am," I said, flashing him my best smile.

"Name, business, and where you from?"

"Peregrin Kanooks. Trade. And Dil's Nook."

"Trade? Unless you're with the Merchants' Guild, Seekers of Oth, or have a pre-existing contract with a guild or existing business, you can't come in to sell your wares." When I made a move to retrieve paperwork from my vest pocket, he stepped back from us. "Back the way you came, lads. There is no business for you in Eldar's Port."

“Are you lot seriously happy with just local ale?” I asked. “I bet the city is bringing in the dwarven stuff from Schwartzberg, but does that really cut it? I got fine hill-folk mead from Dil’s Nook. Their finest pipe weed and a variety of spirits and liquors. Are you sure your city’s pubs and restaurants are satisfied with the overpriced swill?”

The guard stilled. He glanced at his gnomish colleagues as they interrogated the cart next to us or busied themselves with the pedestrian lines. “I don’t know if I can help you,” he told us. “The prices in the pubs for the decent stuff are ridiculous. I know people are looking to buy, but starting new contracts with outsiders is a risky business nowadays.” He patted the crest on his breastplate. “I had to join the Seekers of Oth just to get a job.”

“Everything alright, here?” Another guard asked, joining us. He featured the shield and pier crest instead of the scales and eyes. The woman peeked at our cart and then looked Hruk up and down. “I’m sorry, sir, but unless you’re registered with any of the guilds or have pre-established business with them, we can’t let you in. Especially so many of you for just one cart.”

“Before you turn us away, hear me out—”

“I’m sorry, Mister Kanooks, but there are too many people in line,” the first guard said.

“Look. I might look like an ordinary bard, but I’m an artificer too.” Hruk and I had agreed to the falsehood. The guilds would likely turn hobgoblin-made products away without sampling them. “We’re not here to just sell pipe weed and good, reasonably priced drinks. I’m setting up multiple businesses and contracts. This’ll be good for the city.”

The shield-crested guard glanced between Tom and I. “Hill-folk grown and brewed?”

I nodded, leaning closer. “You lads want a sampler? We got a couple of small casks you can take back to the guardhouse and enjoy.”

“I don’t know if the seekers are going to be okay with it,” the scales-crested guard whispered. He glanced at the gnomes hesitantly.

“Let’s just not tell them,” the other one said. They returned their attention to us. “Give it here.”

Hruk picked out a cask of cider first. “No, my good lad,” I said, keeping my voice low but loud enough for the rest to hear. “That’s cider. These gents deserve mead. Throw in a few pouches of pipe weed too.”

“A couple will be fine,” they said almost in unison.

We chuckled, handing over the little bribe. The shield-crested guard carried the loot away while the other guided us through the gates. “The name’s Elias,” he told us. “If you ever need anything from the guard, it’s best if you come to me, Mr Kanooks.” He glanced at his colleagues before leaning closer. “Beware the Merchants’ Guild and Seekers of Oth. They don’t like independent operators. If you get an invitation to join the order, jump on it. It’ll make your mercantile pursuits in Eldar’s Port much easier.”

“Thank you, Elias,” I said, waving him goodbye and finally entered the city almost three months after starting towards it.