All about them, businessmen and women bustled about dressed in finery and appearing to be in a very massive hurry. Houses, tall and stately as the obvious owners, lined one side of the road, while shops sat on the other. Velentham smirked inwardly as Gilean craned his neck, looking around for any sign of familiarity. "Where are we now?" he asked.
"Since you're so into guiding me why don't you ask them for help."
"Excuse me..." Gilean began, stopping a portly businessman. "What is this place?"
"Here now, are you speaking to me?"
"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm new here and a bit lost."
"Perhaps a map would better suit you. To not know where you are. The audacity!"
Velentham couldn't hide the smile on his face as Gilean failed not once, but twice. It was petty, it was trite, but he was doing what was familiar, for the pain of his father's passing was already too much to dwell upon. It was several moments before Velentham followed Gilean into a haberdashery and set to amusing himself trying on hats. "Well now! Two gentlemen! What may I do for you? Measurements? I've the finest in felts in just this day."
"Well, you do have some fine products here. I was hoping you could help me with something though. My friend and I have just arrived and are a bit lost. What is this place?"
"Why, my fine fellow, you are in a haberdashery. I can create the finest in hats, simply ask. I can make just about anything to suit your cranium."
"Oh, no," Gilean continued as Velentham snickered under his breath. "I mean, this city. Where are we?"
"Sigil? How could you not know? Clerks Ward, to be precise. We have some shops but are more full of politicians. Non-trustable lot, but they spend a lot of coin."
Velentham picked up a hat with a strikingly long pheasant feather in the brim. He walked over to the mirror, sneaking glances at Gilean and the shop keep as he posed. "Sigil..." Gilean continued. "I'm looking to get back home, to my beautiful lady and unborn child. Near Westbridge... on Toril. Do you know where that is from here?"
"Will you be buying a hat this fine day?"
"Perhaps I could consider taking a present home for her," Gilean said with not too much distaste in his voice.
"Torhill you say. Well now, is that in one of the many planes? Demiplanes?"
"It is the material plane."
Velentham turned to face the shopkeep with a debonair smile on his face. "That looks very fetching on you, if I do say so myself. The ladies might really like that look."
"Do you think so?" Velentham asked. "What do you think, cousin?"
"Wonderful," Gilean replied flatly.
"I'll take it, then. Where would this portal be to the material plane?"
"There is a portal not five doors down. Of course, take care that you count them, the doors shift constantly and you could end up elsewhere."
"I am eternally grateful," Velentham replied as Gilean left the shop.
"I thought he was going to purchase a gift for his wife?"
"Politician," Velentham grinned.
