Gav leads you through the surging crowds over a large walking bridge where the collected water is in the center of the city, by a place called the Lakeside Ampitheatre at the northeastern part of the district. Shortly thereafter you transition from Downmarket to Hospice.

The writhing, glistening center of Kaer Maga’s commercial zone, the district known as Hospice advertises itself to anyone who’ll listen as the district with something for everyone. And in fact, that statement isn’t far from the truth—for between the wealth brought in by traveling traders and the city’s notorious lack of scruples and boundaries, Kaer Maga’s Hospice is the most lavish and degraded red-light district in Varisia—and perhaps in all of Avistan.

Being one of the two Core districts catering to visitors, Hospice is more than just a conglomeration of cathouses and cabarets. With the highest concentration of inns, stables, and hostels in the city, Hospice is responsible for housing, feeding, and entertaining all those itinerants and traveling merchants who conduct their business in Downmarket during the day, or who are too new to the city to have made friends and contacts in other districts. Its nightlife is second only to Oriat, and lacks the manic edge of youth and danger that the artists’ sector invites. Instead, Hospice has an old, firmly seated decadence with the weight of history and the smoothness of a well-oiled machine. Far from catering solely to tourists, the numerous restaurants, gaming halls, back-alley theaters, and wine shops are a powerful draw for locals and newcomers alike, and prime real estate in Hospice is worth enough that many of the finer establishments have been there for centuries, their ownership changing hands but their marquees remaining untouched.

Yet no matter how hard other businesses in the district might try to distinguish themselves—the hostlers and off beat temples, the farriers and caravan outf itters—there’s still no question among any who visit as to Hospice’s primary trade. Lascivious catamites and lithe streetwalkers catcall from every window and alley, making passersby flush pink and red with their illicit suggestions and strategically bared flesh. In Hospice, it’s said, you can find anything you want, but you’d better be sure you want it—for few cities can offer the same extreme selection in their pleasure houses, and several of the darker establishments here have been known to turn seasoned warriors and slavers into mewling babes and send them running for the nearest priest or confessor.

Finally, as you get close to your destination - The Sorry Excuse - Gav will tell you a little more about this next stop. This inn does brisk business with first-time visitors of the city, but only because its owner, Harmon Fisk offers the best kickbacks in the city to guides who recommend it. In fact, the Sorry Excuse lives up to its name in almost every way, as Harmon long ago realized that kickbacks are cheaper than amenities and repeat business is rarely worth the effort. A rat hole with seemingly reasonable base rates, its prices quickly mount with extra fees for things like windows, candles, mattresses, and bathing basins, but the inn’s corpulent bouncer Gurd keeps most travelers from quibbling over the bill. Because Harmon’s tricks are designed solely to bilk unwary foreigners, locals have little problem with his blatant crookedness, and in fact the Sorry Excuse wins considerable goodwill by using a fraction of its take to subsidize ale for loyal patrons, attracting a rowdy crew of drunkards every night of the week.

"I know it don't look like much, guvs, but sounds like you got business to do that it'd be better to do if a lot of people in finer places aren't taking notice of you. You'll still pay the same, and the meals and drink aren't great ... but you'll be surprised at the security of anonymity."

Does Iluvar want to ignore the guide and recommend going to someplace more amenable to party funds?