It started in the port district. One galley of Voyagers had pulled into the harbor to discover another galley of Voyagers, only from a different realm or tribe or whatever it is they use to tell each other apart. That was a recipe for trouble; but we Guardians knew that, and so did the captains of the two galleys. Seacity should have been big enough for the two ship’s crews to stay away, particularly since no Voyager likes to stray far from its ship.
But there had been a meeting in a bar close to both galleys, and then there had been a fight. The Guardians had gone in, doing our best to find stubborn heads to beat some sense into, and that should have been enough. But word soon came out that Voyagers from each galley had been found dead in alleys, slain by the weapons those people use.
And once that happened, our goal became keeping the city from being burned down. The Voyagers go wild when they are killed, and doubly so when they are killing each other. There were two nights of rioting, with fifty Voyagers slain, and three times that many deaths among the bilge-tramps and guttersnipes, with fires and looting to match. And it only ended because the Voyagers suddenly decided to end the fighting, which is of course how the Voyagers are. Both galleys sailed out that night, and I hope they both sank in strange seas.