The visitors quarter was big, and there were hundreds of people milling between tents and buildings.
Refugees. Deserters.
I walked to the guard at the entrance to the quarter.
"I'm looking to trade in iron." I told the guard.
The warrior looked at his companion, and then back to me.
He cleared his throat and spoke in Adainic.
"You have won the trust of the sentries?" The guard said with a slight accent.
"I'm the Weaver's Favoured. One of the sentries was a worshipper."
"Favoured are good. The more Favoured the better. Welcome, Favoured." The other guard said.
"Thank you, sir."
"Be careful here. There are no weaveless in the quarter, but there is enough desperation there. You are trusted, but we will still check your weave."
I nodded. "Understood."
A young initiate followed behind a massive warrior.
"Sir, let me take a look at you." He said to Rowan.
Rowan bent slightly to let the initiate see properly.
"Good. You're clear."
