<strong>"I am a locksmith. I designed the locks for a few hundred buildings in the Castle Ward...People loved it because they could stop by my shop on the corner of Trader's Way and Warrior's Way and then go across the street to Eilean's Maztican Delights....but now it's closed and the Urmbrusks own the building. At least I've still got my tools."</strong>The man seems devastated, but the thought of his tools brings a glimmer of hope back to his face. He takes another drink of his ale.<strong>"And business has never been better for the Golden Key Locksmiths. They're three-quarters of a mile south on the Warrior's Way from my old shop, and business used to be split pretty fairly between us. Suddenly they're getting all this business. Lower prices, half of my customers, better locks and materials. So I hear that the Urmbrusks are investing in businesses around me, trying to improve the area, and I meet them and sign the papers and get a loan from them. I improve the business, get the best equipment, but at the end of the day, I still couldn't eke out enough revenue to keep the lamps lit, let alone to pay back the loan."</strong>The poor man finishes his ale and orders another.<br/><br/>