“Thank you,” Maya said. “As much as I appreciate the service, is there any reason why you’re so serious about this? None of the other ports I’ve been in seem to care this much.”

The guard gave Maya a proud grin.

“There is. At Dredd’s Tomb, we pride ourselves on allowing anyone and everyone entry to the city while keeping peace within it. Due to the nature of the tomb, we attract all sorts of visitors. If we couldn’t guarantee safety outside of the tomb, the city would be empty.”

“So it’s a tourist trap?” Humbol asked.

The guard cleared his throat and took sudden interest in the galleon beside them.

“I’ll make sure your boat is safe. Please feel free to inspect the dozens of merchants selling goods in our square as well as take advantage of all the unique opportunities surrounding Dredd’s Tomb.”

Maya rolled her eyes. Evidently, the people running the city had figured out a good way to make money and weren’t planning on letting anyone infringe on it. Either way, being able to leave the ship worry-free certainly sounded nice.

“Let’s go,” Maya decided. “We can go into the tomb tomorrow, so lets just scout the area out today.”

The four of them left the guard on their boat and started along the dock towards the center of the city. People rushed past them in either direction, although none of them got too close.

“These rags make me feel like a beggar,” Maya complained, glancing down at the tattered remains of her clothing. “How many goddamn times are we going to show up in the city looking like we used our clothing for target practice?”

“It’s certainly something we should remedy. Again,” Patty agreed. “But I doubt we’ll have much difficulty doing it here.”

“Ah…we might have a small problem with that,” Cyll said quietly.

They all stopped walking, turning to look back at the immortal pirate.

“We’re just about out of money,” Cyll said. His eyes caught on a cart at the side of the road, filled to the brim with pies. They were so fresh that the smoke was still rising off them. The pirate swallowed and forced himself to look away.

He caught Humbol doing the exact same thing. The two of them glared at eachother before turning away, only to see Maya doing the exact same thing.

“Just how much money can we make in Dredd’s Tomb?” Maya asked.

“Judging by this city, a lot,” Humbol said.

“But most of it is at the lower levels,” Cyll warned. “The early stuff is common. There’s a little money there, but not much.”

“Change of plans,” Maya said. “I need clothes, and I’m not walking around like this for another day. We’re going to the tomb, but we’ll take it easy. Clothing can’t be too expensive.”

“We need to get you to a healer,” Cyll pointed out.

“Does it look like we can afford a healer?” Maya asked.

“It’s possible they have one working for free. The faster people can go into the Tomb, the faster they make money,” Humbol observed.

“Fair point,” Maya said, wincing as her eye pulsated with pain again. “We’ll go see if they’ve got a healer working for free. Then we go into the tomb.”

The others had nothing to protest with that plan, so they headed off once again, this time towards a nearby guard.

The man in question was thin and sported a well-groomed goatee. He had the same uniform as the other guards, but there was an extra gold line on his shoulder. He scanned Maya’s group as they approached and gave them a small nod.

“New to Dredd’s Tomb, are you?” He asked, flashing a smile full of slightly yellowed teeth.

“We are,” Humbol drawled. “How could you tell?”

“Well, you’re dressed in rags. If you’d gone into the tomb, you’d either be able to afford better clothes or I’d be dumping what remained of your bodies in a pit,” the guard said, chuckling. The man didn’t seem particularly perturbed by the thought of burying them.

“Good to hear,” Cyll said. “Do you guys have some sort of charity healer? Our captain took a bit of a beating in a fight, and we need to get her patched up before we go digging around any dungeons.”

“Let me guess. You’re also completely out of money?” The guard asked. It didn’t look like this was his first time saying those lines.

“Just about,” Maya said, sighing.

“Well, you’re in luck. If you can tolerate the town crier’s intolerable yapping, we have a permanent healer’s tent set up a short distance from the town square,” the guard said, gesturing down the road and giving them a wry grin.

The group thanked him and followed his directions. The crowd grew thicker as they walked. Thankfully, it was still nowhere near as crowded as Bulsen. Maya’s crew reached the town square without any difficulty.

It was really more of a large circle than a square. Numerous large shops, some of which four or more stories, encircled a large marble statue of a hand reaching into the heavens. In the center of the hand, a tall man dressed in puffy red and yellow clothing stood with his chest puffed out. He adjusted the ridiculously large hat over his head, revealing a jagged scar that ran down the side of his face, and unfurled a thick brown scroll.

The man cleared his throat. Somehow, it cut straight through the noise of the crowd, appearing in their ears as if he were standing right beside them. All four of them winced, but nobody else had much of a response. A few people threw fruit or rocks in the man’s direction, but he expertly dodged out of the way as he started to read.

“Extra, extra!” He called. His voice was nasally and grated on Maya’s ears instantly. “New news from the Frontier Sea, fresh from this morning!”