Had it been less turbulent times, the sentries might have asked for papers and credentials. Even the lowest born aristocrat had an emblem or proof of identification in heraldric papers. But the crowd was burgeoning, and Emmaline carried herself with an imperious air, cleverly utilizing every asset of her body to seem peerless in their presence. The other members of the group played along perfectly, with the notable absence of Reyvadin who seemed to be missing for a minute. Still, while apparently aristocratic, to the guards it was clear Emmaline was not above a petty baroness, if even that. Raddek sped the process along to keep them from asking too many questions, barking at the men to grant them their names double time. Five were taken; Holton, Borgund, Kurt, Rogelo, and Anthonie. 

"My lady, you and your...guards clearly have not been in the region long." The one called Kurt said, eyeing Lorcan for a moment and snorting derisively. "Orders are orders, and had you not been highborn we would have had to execute them without bias. As it stands, the city council has far larger concerns that us, even without the calamity. My advice, stay safe and keep your purse with you. Some men here only speak the language of money, if you get my meaning." 

Raddek elbowed past the other men with purpose, though Emmaline and perhaps another observer would see he cocked his eyebrow at the guardsman's statement. He bowed before her, his eyes now level with hers and moving erratically to indicate they should make haste out of the gateway. 

"Your retainers are waiting, my lady." He told her, and with that he stepped forward and lead the group deeper into the street, making sure to find a nice corner where the refugees and citizenry were not packed so thickly. Judging by the short, stout tower that cast a shadow across their crew of miscreants, they were beside a miller or a storage building of some kind. Once everyone was gathered, Raddek crossed his thick arms and gave one last look down the street for good measure before he felt safe enough to speak. In the shadows, his iron eyes were grim. 

"I don't know about any of you, but I'm going to get a drink and to find somewhere to sleep. Luckily I know someone that might help ease the price on something like that. Migi, me, and anyone else who wants to follow are going to the [i]Ubrico Soldati[/i]. It's only a few miles southwest of here, close to the docks. It's fairly cheap for being in one of the smaller areas of the city, and if my friend is still there we can probably manage. Everyone else, do your thing. Just take care. Varone is still probably one of the wonders of the coast, but it's fallen on hard times so watch your purse and your necks. Let's all meet at the Ubrico tonight anyhow." 

Not one to mince words, Raddek merely gave a nod and started moving back up the street from whence they had come, Migi and whoever else was going in tow. 

[hr] 

[i]1 hour later...[/i] 

Despite the steady flow of fleeing civilians and countryside immigrants, the city of Varone proved to be as cosmopolitan as its reputation gave. Most of the buildings were made of stone or marble, and there were not two streets without some great work of art or statue on display amidst fountains or lavish trees. Carriages of rare Mulgrave Wood weren't uncommon, horses cantering past the group in perfect step. Canals crisscrossed along the streets nearly every mile, patrolled by guardsmen in rafts or the odd rich citizen in longboats of their own. Some couples wanting a romantic day on the town rented out smaller crafts, snogging in the back of the boats as local oarsmen tilled them about. Most were content with staying in the larger channels between the three great 'islands' that made up Varone, but some traversed the smaller canals and slipped under the bridges, ignoring those on the street.  

They passed a few taverns and breweries, including the Blackmoon Dive, one of the more raunchy locations west of the palace that would have likely suited them had they been able to get in. Raddek informed them you either had to be in league with one of the thieves guilds or be willing to pay a pretty penny to enter. Across another bridge and down a lane that led into a concrete jungle of tunnels and walkways beneath a guildhouse for the Brewer's guild, they stepped out into another street and found themselves right in front of a stone alehouse and inn, its front consisting of four archways that led to a patio where people could drink and feast outside without fear or rain. Raddek had enough of trekking outside, so he moved in. 

Inside, the establishment seemed clean and well ordered. Serving maids and manservants in aprons, tan tops and striped loose trousers gave calls in Dre Costan and served food and drink with the swiftness of professionals. In the center of the dining area was a large rock of obsidian, and two rusty cutlasses were stuck fast in it, crisscrossing due to their curved blades. Next to the rock, recently emptied bottles were placed there in what looked to be some strange ritual or contest. Various men and women were being served, including a few very odd people. A tanned, sumptuous woman with dangerous eyes and dark jewelry drank a bottle greedily as a rotund Andredian sobbed into a bowl of porridge three tables away, comforted by a perhaps not fully-human lass with unruly red hair. A cloaked figure ate quietly in the back, two tables from two men in matching robes speaking quietly over their hardly-touched dinners. Scattered among them were either well dressed citizens in fine satins, silks, and linens, a table deep in a tense card game; or hard men armed with daggers and swords, sporting at least three different brooches with varying marks signifying different mercenary companies. 

"Get a table, I'll be back." Raddek told those that followed him, and he stepped past the counter into the back kitchen as if he owned the place.