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Galloping along the narrow thoroughfare through broken streets and dark alleyways, you soon outdistance any immediate threat to your safety. You halt at a small square to allow your horse to drink from a water-trough that stands beside a narrow stone arch. As she drinks her fill, you observe the to-ing and fro-ing of the townsfolk and hear the drunken songs and revelry from the wine shops bordering the square. A knot of brawling river-men tumbles out of one doorway, and they set about each other with knives and bottles, egged on by their rowdy comrades who wager fistfuls of crowns on the outcome. The fight soon gets out of hand; as it spreads, you decide it is better to leave before you are drawn into it.
