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Both ends of the city were blockaded- checkpointed, rather. The citizenry seemed free to come and go as they please, especially as the side passages seemed entirely unguarded, but the large, main thoroughfares out of the city itself were capped by a pair of stands on either side of the main road. Groups of what seemed curiously to be <span class="mu-i">freight traffic</span> came through the checkpoints at regular intervals, and given the lack of guards at the checkpoints, they seemed to free traders and not unfortunate travelers.
Trade, this far outside of Imperial jurisdiction? You suppose it wasn't the most unbelievable thing.
Their cargo was pieces of salvage ripped from the hive walls, small scraps of functioning technology, bundles of spices and bags of mushrooms and crops in the back of flat-bedded trucks. Some even carried cartons of stubs, racks of alcohol and stacks of what appeared to be small hides on the backs of herd animals- six-legged insects with blunt faces and lidded eyes that you identify as tabba, an animal native to Malignax.
You had made your way up through the main thoroughfare of the city, moving pointedly in one direction until you came up against a place where the city ended. A part of you had kept expecting the city to end several times already, but it just kept going, and you decide against mentally downgrading it to a town just yet. You had eventually reached the end, though, after passing more than ten improvised city blocks.
The checkpoints were positioned close to the office space you had seen before, but now that you were viewing them up close, you thought that trading post was perhaps a more accurate assessment. The arriving traders would receive lot numbers, and while they were unloading their goods, a representative would enter the offices. You could see conversations happening through the windows and the doorway- people not wearing the local colors in quiet discussions with people wearing the colors of the Suns, while seemingly lone civilians waited in lines or talked to representatives at the counter.
“To Uptown?” The man you were speaking to shook his head. “Nah, I'm due south into Jade Eyes territory, don't really go up north."
“Any idea what would be charged for that destination?” You ask. “Any passenger services?”
“Passenger services...” He thinks about it for a second, clearly debating how honest of an answer to give you. “I dunno, twenty portions? Eighty thrones? That's as much as I'd charge to ride along, not sure anyone has ever bothered taking just passengers around.” Someone apparently calls something to him, and he steps away almost immediately, leaving you disappointed.
