The Last Year
Bezantur is a port city located at the southern coast of Tyraturos, a region of Thay. She is also called Thay’s City of a Thousand Temples and is famous for it’s great harbour. Eltabbar may be the capital of Thay, but Bezantur has long been the commercial center of the realm. The city is the capital of the tharch of Priador and is the largest port in the Red Wizards’ domain. For centuries, Thayan cotton, fruit, and grain flowed through Bezantur, enriching the masters of the city and the tharchion, but the wealth pouring in now is unimaginable. To Bezantur flow the gold, goods, and slaves exchanged in dozens of Thayan enclaves across the Sea of Fallen Stars, so it is not only the largest city in Thay but by far the wealthiest.
Bezantur squats on the northern shore of the Alamber Sea. Artisans, merchants, priests, and soldiers live inside, while beyond sprawls an immense and squalid shantytown of commoners and slave pens. No tree grows within twenty miles of the city; great shipyards even larger than those of the Alaor lie along the shore, employing hundreds of carpenters and shipwrights and thousands of slaves. On the eastern side of the city, stands the Guild of Foreign Trade, the heart of Thay’s sinister enterprise to enslave the West through commerce.
Hundreds of artisans, merchants, and laborers fill Bezantun’s commercial districts. The most important pant of the city’s economy, however, are the docks that run the length of the city’s shore. Hundreds of ships from every land on the Sea of Fallen Stars are moored to these stone quays or rock gently at anchor in the bay beyond, waiting for their turn to tie up and take on cargo.
The docks range widely in quality and safety. Some rival the finest in the world; others amount to a rocky patch of shore where one might shove a rowboat. No matter where a ship’s master moors, however, she can expect to be charged for the privilege. In the better parts of town, the docking fee earns her top-level service and protection from the ever-emboldened members of the local thieves’ guild. In the worst parts, she is essentially paying the local thugs not to rob her. If they keep anyone else from robbing her too, so much the better.
A traveler can find just about any kind of legitimate merchandise imaginable within the city. For those in search of something less legitimate, Tharchion Thrul has long turned a blind eye toward any dealings in Market Town, a cluster of shacks that cozy up against the city’s mighty walls like remoras near a shark’s gills.