---
The gates themselves are a scene of barely controlled chaos. Peddlers, beggers, sailors, and drunkards seem to mill about with no rhyme or reason. Those who had heard of the unparalleled efficiency of the Caesar`s Purple Guard who ran the gate are surprised to find it now run by the Blue Tabarded City Guard. Many of the uniforms are mismatched and stained, and the guard themselves mix an air of resignation and contempt as they question each person attempting to gain entry. The area in front of the gate is nearly always crowded. Still with enough patience, or a couple of well placed elbows, it is possible to get to the front of the line.
---
Razelus Urso and his donkey had stood in line for what might have been half an hour. The journey from Kislovan had been long, cramped, smelly, and generally uncomfortable, with little room for Raz to move about. The crew of the vessel hadn't been interested in getting any help from a holy man during the day, and at night there was no light to read by and nothing to drown out the snores of the other passengers.
Tired as he felt, he was glad, finally, to be standing on solid ground again, even if his land legs hadn't quite reasserted themselves. As he neared the front of the line, Raz hoped that his sombre black robe and general appearance of priesthood about him diverted any attention from the copious military equipment that bristled off the back of his "mount."
He didn't know why he'd felt the need to drag along his hoplite gear - but he could not leave it behind lest he offend his father any further, and there were stories of the Citadel being a rough place. As with all other brushes with authority (particularly elvish authority), he hoped the guards found a shield, armor, helmet and spear clattering across the back of a pack animal commonplace and beneath notice, and any potential robbers found it reason enough to believe he might be trained to resist them if they attacked.
The young initiate was more than passingly aware of how silly it was to want your bread and eat it as well - certainly a hope not befitting a wise priest of Illuminatus.
And yet, these are the hopes that sustain us - for faith never is particularly reasonable.
Calming himself and setting his anxieties aside, he awaited the word of one of the guards.
Raz arrives - Jygust 30th, Morningtide
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