"I said, what are you—hey!" the interrogator cries as you dart past.

"Sorry, friend," Alexius says, slipping past with similar agility, "go bother someone not on official business."

Cyril also steps past the interrogator, taking the time to wave the letter from Dr. Sabbatine in his face. The merchant and the soldier laugh together, as if the doctor's letter makes them invincible.

The crowd presses you from behind, forcing you deeper into the processing centers where the old walls of Byzantium once stood.

"Customs always makes me crave a steak," Alexius says. "I mean, I feel so much like a cow in its last moments."

"There, the Gate of Hercules!" Cyril says. Merchants, soldiers, and scholars push past you toward the gate, eager to reach their destination.

Two major gates divide the rough-and-tumble docks from the city itself: the Gate of Hercules, through which men pass, and the Gate of Hestia, for women. The gates are the same size, and for every woman who visits Byzantium, five men do. The resulting bottleneck below the colossal statue of Hercules is a sight to behold.