Thirty minutes later, down at the docks, huddled masses of goblin families gathered at the main pier, approaching riot levels as Gallywix's former mansion guards found themselves as drafted police. The wealthy businessmen, politicians, corporate presidents, and aristocrats had already paid their way onto Gallywix's yacht, the last standing vessel in Bilgewater Port. It was prodigious compared to the other private yachts; the largest Kezan had ever seen, largely because it was formerly a cargo vessel. Gallywix bought it to convert it for his own personal use not a few years ago to host mansion-sized parties out at sea. Never did he imagine it would turn into such an investment as his personal army of accountants tallied Gallywix's newfound macaroons, which exceeded well beyond the hundreds of billions. The Trade Prince giggled with devilish glee as he sucked every ounce of worth left out of his devastated city.
"Let us in!" A goblin commoner shouted over the crowd, "Are you just going t