The Volantene noble proved a skilled chariot rider and led them up a cobbled street wide enough for a dozen riders to ride abreast towards the looming black walls of fused stone. The road was emptied, its sides lined with tiger cloaks, barring the crowd from the intersecting pathways from entering. A single glance confirmed what Jon already knew - most of the people here were slaves, evident by the numerous and colourful tattoos on their faces, although they appeared well-fed and clothed.