>>6221244As the group approaches Shangri-La, you find that you are not alone. An entire queue of caravans have formed at the outside of the palace’s walls. You find yourself waiting in line for an agonizing hour, staring at the massive walls and pointed towers that reach up towards the sky.
>“What is with this damned line?” You groan, taking another inch of a step atop Fionn. The merchants in front of you look incredibly nervous as they look behind them at your wyvern. When Fionn makes a low-growling sound, they quickly turn around, doing their best to pretend that you were not there. “You’re an Adjunct!” You say to Alvin. “Can’t you use your authority to let us cut ahead?”“That would probably make things worse.” Alvin admits. “The Merchant Consortium of Morfis greatly despises the Royal College mingling in their affairs, and takes great pains to shut them out. The Sages, meanwhile, are happy to let them run their little operations out here, so long as they receive a cut of the profits Shangri-La earns. As long as the gold flows, the College is happy to turn a blind eye to the more…unsavory things that occur here.”
>“Sounds like quite the racket these merchants are running. So, will they be paying me off too once I become King?”“Not unless you threaten them sufficiently, I suppose. The same such deal does not exist with the Royal Palace. Shangri-La is one area where the influence of Princess Yulia fails to reach.”
>“Try as I might, I can’t wrap my head around what this College of yours runs and what the Palace runs. Frankly, it’s annoying. Once I become King, these damn wizard bosses of yours better fall in line. I won’t brook such insolence when I’m in charge.”Alvin merely grimaces in response.
Another hour passes…
>“I’m losing my mind.”“This…is taking longer than usual.” Alvin says, confused. “But, we’ve made it to the front. After this caravan ahead of us, it should be us next.”
You make it to the front gates of Shangri-La. As you do, you are able to get a good look at what passes for the guards of this place. They had the appearance of rough men, who spent far too much time under the desert sun. Each bore a litany of scars and carried well-used weapons on their person. They were currently making a scene of rifling through the caravan ahead of you. One brute who appeared to be the boss of these goons was currently in the midst of an argument with the lead merchant.
“You paying up? Or are you turning around?” The goon asks, a sly smirk on his face.
“This is madness!” The merchant cries. “I was just here a few weeks ago and there was no extra toll to enter!”
“New management. New toll.” The goon replies. “If you don’t like it, you can turn around and come back when you have more money. Or maybe just part with some of your goods here, and we’ll call it even.”
