The entrance to the Old Quarter was sad and depressing. As Ralan walked off the bridge, he stepped into a world of decaying buildings, huts made from what looked like old furniture repurposed into tied together walls and roofs, and streets full of brush and dirt and grime.

This really is the Wretched Quarter, Ralan thought. The thought that a large number of people lived in these conditions broke his heart. At least he couldn't see anyone sleeping on the crumbling cobblestone or in the door frames of collapsed houses.

A laugh caught Ralan's attention, and as he looked off to the left he saw a group of Harvest Guild workers laughing as they walked along the main road that connected with the Great Bridge. That led Ralan to look around, and what he saw shocked him—while the buildings were falling apart, the people seemed normal, even happy. None of them were walking to any of the buildings that were falling apart, they all seemed to be heading toward the center of the Old Quarter, down the main road.

"Not what ye thought ye'd find," said a voice to Ralan's left. It was the dirty man who had helped him after he was pulled from the horse.

"No. I can't say it is." Ralan stared ahead as he slowly followed the groups of people walking down the road. "Where is everyone heading?"

"To their homes, of course." He waved an arm from left to right. "This is all just for show. The Whites never come further than the end of the bridge."

Ralan stopped. "Wait, so this isn't the Old Quarter?"

"Aye, it is, but the Old Quarter is large and contains many secrets." The man winked at Ralan. They resumed walking.

"I'm Ralan." Ralan held out his hand. "Thank you for helping me."

"I know who ye are, Guildmaster. Was an honor to help ye. I'm Trendel." He grasped Ralan's hand in a firm handshake. "But the real credit goes to the Captain. 'Twas her idea to have everyone rush the bridge when you arrived."

"Captain?"

"Aye. Maela. She is the Captain of the Flats. She oversees operations there."

Nodding his head, Ralan asked, "So all those people who rushed the bridge, that wasn't a normal crowd at the end of the day?"

"No, sir. Maela put the word out, and we organized everyone to mill about and wait for the horses. Unfortunately, there was only one horse, but it was the important one. Once we saw you, we all walked to the bridge." Trendel nodded. "'Twas a good plan."

"Yes, it was. Genius even." Ralan looked around. "So all these people agreed to help the thieves?"

"Ah, no, sir. All these people are thieves."

Ralan looked around at the people in the Harvest Guild green. He thought back to the hundreds of people that helped him cross the bridge. "All of them?"

"Aye, all of us here across the bridge."

Ralan stopped again, which elicited a smile from Trendel. "Everyone in the Old Quarter is in the Thieves Guild?"

Trendel nodded, and a stunned Ralan continued walking. He looked around. The Old Quarter was huge, probably as big as the Flats, the Warehouse District, and the Lower Triangle combined. He could barely see the Wall to the West in the distance. In the distance to his left, behind fallen buildings lay the Ash Fields.

If everyone in the Old Quarter was a thief, he worried about the job he had in front of him. It was huge. And it was wretched. His Guild was truly desperate.

At that moment, Ralan and Trendel turned a corner, and the crumbling houses and buildings ended, replaced by a large square, which was bright and clean and opened up in front of them. There was a tavern and a number of shops. Families were walking around with carts full of food and goods. As Ralan stood and stared, the people around him started to pull off their Harvest Guild greens, replacing them with tunics, robes, and shirts of the black of the Thieves Guild.

Trendel smiled. "Welcome to your new home, Guildmaster."