Nodding to them, he strode past them, through the gate and into the former fort. Inside, the paving stones gave way to older cobblestones, ruts worn into them from countless wagons grinding across the stone while countless feet through the ages had smoothed any edges. Immediately inside to the right was the former garrison headquarters, while the officer's quarters were to the left; both had been mostly unchanged, playing the role of a tradehouse for the headquarters and sleeping quarters for out-of-city traders to the left. And ahead of him, the old barracks that had been remodeled into holding areas for slaves, as well as row after row of cages, roofed to protect the slaves from rain but otherwise bare and doing nothing to mute the occasional scream or shout from their occupants. After all, few slaves remained in the district for more than a week.
