The coachman's words made sense. Galen was essentially mixing with the underworld, causing unnecessary chaos with the Royal City Army would be a losing proposition.
"Alright, you win."
Galen conceded, handing the money to the coachman.
He had no idea where the ticket office was, squeezing into the vast square's depths, amidst the bustling crowd, clueless about the exact location.
"Hello, excuse me, where's the ticket platform?"
Galen asked a passerby with utmost politeness.
The passerby glanced at Galen's attire, thinking what an oddity he was, hadn't heard the term "platform" in years.
"Wow, which countryside brother are you from? There aren't any platforms now. Tickets are booked in advance, you'll have to buy them from someone else, see, over there."
The passerby pointed out Continental Martial Arts Competition scalping was a beheading offense.
But if it's just a single ticket, and it's yours, you can transfer it once, offering some flexibility for the nobles.
