From the plaza you can clearly see the clock on the bell tower of the Temple of Tyr. It shows 3:55 as you note the guards finishing up with the Driver.
After a rather tense interview, the gate guards seem satisfied with the excuses, platitudes, and assurances the driver had to offer. He was a tradesman after all, those type are usually very good at negotiations. The driver offers thanks and squeezes some juice of healroot into the gaping unconscious mouth of the rothé, causing it to stir. It stumbles to its feet and he immediately uses animal handling without proficiency with advantage. Only natural 1 would cause the rothé to become enraged again in his exhausted and injured state. [1d20+0=2, 1d20+0=16] He successfully brings the rothé into line and leads it back to the cart.
"And get that cart out if here before the next toll, the gate's backed up and we don't want you clogging up the road. You're free to unload it but visit the Hall of Justice for reparations no later than tomorrow morning," the guard said sternly.
The driver offers the officers a tip of his hat and continues toward his cart.
One of the Gate Guards (the one you spoke to on the way in) and the North Guard (badge number 157) head your way and are joined unexpectedly by another gentleman of high stature.
"What's going on here?" Said the very tall man carrying a Giant's Super Heavy Mace in fine leather armor. Certainly a fighter or barbarian of some kind with strength to rival a Hill Giant to wield that mace.
"We don't need your help Brutus, the party's over," said the North Guard. He answered in a booming and overly dramatic, seemingly mocking tone, "Aww damn, thought there'd still at least be something left for me, I heard there were undead monsters and someone died. Was it one of yours?"
