The nexus, the hub; the focal point of trade in the Western Kingdom focused here. Faces from all over the world intermingled in this place. Lives, hopes, dreams; it all flowed as fluidly as the bustling throng of bodies could carry them. Here the people flowed like water, filling every crevice, boiling over every stand. Each looking for something in the hopes that it might be found.
Space along the Avenue in Kings Court was expensive, for it was that road, that single hundred-yard stretch of earthen pack that has made this quarter so famous. Competition between dealers tended to be brutal, if not deadly. Street thugs hide in every crack, and pickpockets from the Poor Quarter wait for the right opportunity. The unguarded never last long in this place. But it was the way of business in the kingdom, as it always had been here.
The ground was sodden hard beneath the tireless trample of thousands of feet. No face was too unusual for this place, especially for the merchants who have seen it all. These men are masters of diplomacy. Storefronts several homes in size lean over the broad color-speckled river of bustling throng within it. One must shout if they wish to be heard; but being heard will mean the attention of thousands.
Long slender banners of gold, crimson, silver and white twirled over the heads of the people within, each longer than the one before it. The Merchants changed them daily; always planning one that will better catch the eye of a passerby. The storefronts are pointed like triangles towards the center of the street. When viewed from above, it seems as if huge jaws of teeth are closing in over the flow of people traveling within.
Shops remained opened and those souls who chose to ignore the current state of King's Court continued their day to day business.
With rolling and unsteady gait upon the unnaturally stable and level surface of dry land, Ezekiel's booted feet unhurriedly but unerringly led him to the mercurial heart of the city... the heaving bosom, if you will. The pirate was cheerful, with a beer or two inside warming his guts, and enough coin to enjoy the exotic attractions of the teeming city. Such were his small ambitions this free tradetide: very little of merit played upon his mind, besides a vague desire to find himself a new jacket of some variety. (The old one had worn through both elbows, and while this might have been repairable, shortly after that had suffered burns at the kick of a cannon and the remains were little more than a dish rag. This turn of events had vexed the rover greatly, for the soldier he'd killed to take it had been a tough match and he'd considered that jacket a treasure hard-won.)
Zeke supposed that if no comparable jacket were forthcoming in the Avenue of Trade, then he might still hold out hope of liberating one from the corpse of some future enemy, if an enemy of decent attire should make himself available. So his quest had no great urgency - in truth, it was merely an excuse, for Master Lee rarely enjoyed much time upon the land... and when he was lucky enough to find himself shorewards, it more often than not was in the tiny pirate haven of Nether's Gate... and if not that, then there was invariably work to be done. To be allowed to wander the streets freely for a mark or two, without any particular goal in mind except to enjoy the alien landscape of a teeming city, was somewhat liberating: a far cry from the cramped bunks and rocking planks of his usual home at sea. Not that Ezekiel entertained any ideas of giving up his nautical lifestyle; he loved it far too dearly for that. But the change was somewhat refreshing. It was like a little holiday, and now that worries of future employment were put from his mind, he could enjoy it thoroughly knowing that it would safely end, and life might return (in good time) to more familiar avenues.
This, of course, would also be the ideal place to learn a little more about the climate of this particular city; this would be the heart of its rumour-mill and the financial soul of the place, wrapped in a throng of people, where a person could blend into the fabric and learn any number of things. Perhaps Zeke's feet had good sense of direction, then, for the pirate attached was always looking for some good trouble to get into, even if he only had a mark or two to spare.
...fer example... I wonder what our good lady Cap'n is fleein' from so directly...? Zeke mused, in passing. What kind fate 'as 'er runnin' from 'ere like 'er tail's on fire... an' what am I gettin' meself into by agreein' ta join 'er...?