Quest The bitter truth (Bronwen)

[Anomaly]

65th of Summer, 522 AV

There had been much to think about over the course of the summer. Strange events starting with the sickness that swept through the tent city, decimating its residents. It was now a pale shadow of what it once was which hadn’t been pretty to begin with. Most of the tents were consumed in a cook fire that quickly grew out of control with no one left to attend to it. The camp ground was still scorched black in large swaths, and the handful of tents that remained were covered in a filmy, black dust.

Slowly, the area was repopulating, but there was no longer enough there to sustain those that returned, few though they may be. Most of those who managed to survive the sickness were later claimed by the slavers that used the fire as a cover for their raids into the tent city. Only those who’d managed to slip into the old mining tunnels before everything went to shite managed to survive the night with their freedom intact, though most of them might have wished they hadn’t when they returned to find all of their belongings either burnt or stolen. Broken at the sight of their former refuge burned to the ground, their wails could be heard throughout the city for several days afterward.

Eventually a good chunk of people drifted away from the sight with nothing left to hold them there. As the people that remained adjusted to the new normal, they started looking for answers, and most focused on the strange outsiders that were seen tending to the sick before the fires broke out. Knights, it was rumored, and not the ex kind either. Some even speculated they hadn’t been there to help at all. It wasn’t a hard line to draw. Most harbored a healthy suspicion of the outsiders to begin with, and the fact that they were knights certainly didn’t help their reputation in the slightest.

Of course the gangs were happy enough to feed these rumors, and pin the missing rats off on them as well. After all it took attention off of their activities for the time being. It also shifted the blame for what happened on these mysterious others because they knew keenly well the wrath of a riled up mob. So they inflated these rumors, and weaved in a few of their own outlandish ones. The knights had been feeding the wolves, or that there was a sorceress amongst the knights that poisoned the water around the tent city. That last one accidentally created a sort of unintentional panic in the city for a few days as people became concerned about drawing from the river but the gangs didn’t fail to capitalize on this as well, offering ‘purified’ water sources at a ‘bargain’ price. As a result of all these rumors running amok, an uneasy tension settled over the city as people waited to see what would happen next, if anything.

For Bronwen, aside from a bit of excitement at the beginning of the season, things had been painfully quiet. There was still no word from Matrim or any others that had been in his company. However what was perhaps more distressing than even that was the fact that Ves had gone missing. Of course Bronwen had gone back to look for her but when she eventually did find that safe house she found it empty without a single sign of what had happened or a note to let her know where Ves had gone. It was hard going, but the lack of information forthcoming forced Bronwen to more or less accept her lot and get on with her life at Bregas all while holding out hope that one day she would hear from any of them. Then one day Bronwen heard a rumor that a friend of hers had been seen over at the Pig’s Foot Tavern. Recently even. Coming from Hadrian this rumor was as good as a gold rimmed miza in ones pocket, and naturally Bronwen wanted to head right over. She didn’t even need to cross the river so the going was quick.

While it was still early afternoon, the place was practically bustling with activity, forcing Bronwen to squeeze halfway through until gradually she found herself in a narrow, open space near the bar. There was a rough looking older man behind the bar currently busy servicing customers but when he noticed her out of the corner of his eye, he asked what she’ll be having, a request he quickly fulfilled.

This man was an observant sort, and couldn’t help but to notice that she looked a lot like a girl he was supposed to be looking for though he stayed glancing at Bronwen for several chimes before he eventually made up his mind. It helped that Bronwen had walked in seeming more intent on the crowd that she was getting a drink, and the description he’d been left was rather spot on. He cleared his throat, rapping on the bar to try and get her attention and when that didn’t work he reached over to tap her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me miss. You wouldn’t happen to be Bronwen?” He asked, already reaching behind the bar for something he’d kept stashed for just such an occasion. “A fiery lass left these for you.” In his hands was a thin piece of folded up parchment and a white kitten that had grown considerably since she last saw it. Precious mewed at her in recognition, practically fighting to get out of the man’s grasp until it was safely in Bronwen’s grasp. The piece of parchment was a note with words scrawled across the top. “For Bronwen, love Ves.”

As she unfolded the piece of parchment, a small paper sachet almost fell out although Bronwen was just able to catch it before it did so. If she opened it she would find that it was filled with a familiar light blue powder that looked a lot like Blike. Inside the unfolded piece of parchment paper was a short note, left in a hastily scrawled script.

“I’m sorry I’ve been absent… After what happened I tried seeking out your father but he rejected me. I took that hard, and I made some pretty foolish decisions. I don’t know really how to say this but by the time you read this I’ll be gone. I’ve signed on with some privateers and we’re leaving any moment now. I want to get out of this city. There is nothing left for me here, but I know you’ll never leave, not with your sister potentially so close and I understand that, but I also hope you understand I need to get out of this city for a while. I will be back. Eventually… I hope you are here when I return.”

The note abruptly ended there, but before she could ask the older man behind the bar a question something large, and brown skittered across her feet. Looking down she caught a glance of brown rat disappearing into the crowd, followed by several others as people started shouting, screaming and everything in between. People started tripping over one another in an attempt to get away from the swarming rats, and pretty soon Bronwen found herself pushed along by the wave of people that clambered for the tavern doors. The older man was barking something out at the crowd but his words were lost in the tumult as there was a loud popping sound and a whoosh of heat from behind as flames began to engulf the back wall.

There was a brief eerily stillness in the crowd as they all looked back to see what had started the fire, then before their eyes there was another pop that reverberated through the tavern as a fresh gout of flame leapt up from the floor to scorch the thatch ceiling. People were practically stampeding to get out of the tavern now, and Bronwen was fortunate enough to be near the front of the crowd so she was able to move out more or less of her own volition as people surged through the narrow doorway. Before she knew it, Bronwen was back onto the street, fighting to get free of the crowd and eventually finding a place across from the tavern where she wouldn’t be jostled by panicked patrons. There she watched the tavern burning with the rest of the crowd as the screams started from within.

Smoke filled the street in a light gray haze as people shouted for buckets, managing to get a few of the crowd to respond but not nearly enough to contain the blaze. Someone tapped Bronwen on the shoulder, urging her to help bring water to keep the blaze from spreading before disappearing into the mass of people milling about. Before them the tavern was now a pillar of flame, reflecting off of all their faces as slowly the building collapsed in on itself.

[Bronwen]

It was a good thing Bronwen was off duty when Hadrian decided to tell her that Dalavesta had been seen going into The Pig's Foot Tavern because the guard was out the door before the man finished speaking. She didn't even stop to think why, if Ves was in the city, she hadn't come to find Bron.

The morning after she had been taken to her Father, Bron had woken up in her bed, disoriented, head throbbing, trying to sort through the hazy memory of the night before. She remembered leaving Ves in the hidden bunker they had found, then...nothing. Later, after returning to the bunker, Bron found it empty, with no sign of Ves or the kitten. The Tent City, or what remained of it, held no indication that her lover had returned there, either.

Bron had decided to go back to Brega's and wait for Ves to find her, thinking the other woman was preoccupied with her own doings, but as night descended and shadows lengthened, there was still no Ves.

As she had undressed for bed that night, Bron had discovered a letter from her father in a pocket. For the rest of that night and into the early morning, the Syliran had laid in bed, unable to sleep, clutching that small piece of paper in one hand and a mysterious locket with a lock of hair in the other.

The message made no more sense fifty-five days later than it had on the night Bron had found it, and Ves was still missing. Bron had torn up the streets looking for her lover, asking anyone who would listen if they had seen Ves, revisited Ves's known hangouts and haunts, and got nothing. Ves was just...gone, Precious with her.

Until today

A small niggle of hope tried to worm its way into Bron's chest, making her heart race as she stepped into the Pig's Foot. The tavern was full of wall-to-wall patrons, but that didn't deter Bron from studying every face turned her way as she picked her way to an open area at the bar. The bartender readily took her order of a house ale, and as soon as Bron had the tankard in hand, she took a long pull as she turned her back to the bar and scanned the mass of bodies for that one familiar face she needed to see.

A tap on her shoulder had Bronwen turning back to the bar. When she saw what the ruddy-faced barkeep held, Bron's brows shot up, and she immediately reached for the small kitten, taking Precious from the man, and tucked the white bundle of fur against her chest. Bron hesitantly took the piece of paper the bartender thrust forward, foreboding lancing through her gut as she read the inscription.

"For Bronwen, love Ves"

As Bron unfolded the message, another folded paper fell out. Bron snapped her knees together, just managing to catch the sachet in her lap. Placing the other paper on the bar, Bron manipulated the smaller parchment with one hand's fingertips until she could crack open a corner enough to see the blue powder within. Swallowing, Bron let the sachet fall into her lap as she pulled the other from the bar, eyes scanning the message quickly.

Oh no...

No, no, no...

No matter how many times she read Ves's message, it remained unchanged.

Ves had left Bron.

She was alone. Again.

The paper slipped from the guard's fingers, and Bron let it fall, tracking its progress to the stained, sticky floor. Bron felt suddenly numb, vacant, and confused. Tears began welling in her eyes. Precious bumped her head against Bron's chin, and she pulled the kitten closer. Why would Ves do this? What did Bron do? Bron frowned into her thoughts. What had her Father done?

A large rat skittered into view, then out, where her eyes focused on the floor. Bron jerked her foot away and jumped to her feet, gaze tracking the rodent's progress through the now screaming patrons making an en masse exodus for the door. Someone knocked into Bron, tripping her forward several paces. Another slammed into her back, and suddenly, she was caught up in the surge, angling for the exit. A pop sounded from behind, and Bron saw orange flames burst to life out of the corner of an eye.

A boy, no older than twenty, tripped ahead of her, falling in a sprawl across the floor. Several pairs of booted feet pummeled the young man before Bronwen was able to wrap a fist around the back of the boy's collar and drag him to his feet. Together, they spilled out onto the street and staggard free of the panic. Bron let go of the boy and spun around to look back at the tavern and felt her mouth fall open.

The Pig's Foot was burning.

Bron could see flames licking up the wall behind the bar and spreading hungrily across the bar's surface before thick smoke rose behind the glass, obscuring her view. Someone tapped Bronwen's shoulder, startling her, then a bucket was shoved toward her. She took it absently, wondering why anyone would bother. No bucket of water, no matter how many, was going to douse these flames.

Spotting the boy she had dragged off the floor, Bron spun toward him.

"I saved your ass, remember?" she said, having to shout to be heard over the heart-wrenching cries from within the Pig's Foot.

The boy nodded, opening his mouth to reply but shut it again when Bron shoved the white kitten into his arms.

"Watch her, and don't move from this spot," she demanded, then added, "if you leave with her, I will hunt you down and make you wish I'd left you to burn!"

Not waiting for the shocked young man to reply, Bron spun back toward the tavern, catching one man by the shoulder and wrenching the bucket out of his hands.

"There's no putting this fire out," she shouted, dragging the man with her toward the flames, "get as many out of the building as you can!"

She grabbed several others, uselessly attempting to throw water on the raging fire, telling them the same, until the majority of those willing to help were dragging patrons free of the smoke. Bronwen managed to drag several free herself before someone started yelling that the place was about to come down. She stumbled free of the tavern, joining the crowd of shocked and horrified onlookers as the Pig's Foot crumbled to the ground in a wave of burning ember and wood.

Sometime later, Bron found herself standing numbly across the street, holding a subdued kitten, having retrieved Precious at some point. Small fires dotted the remains of the tavern, and heavy smoke filled the air.

Bron turned and slowly made her way back to Brega's, where she made a quiet entry, eyes downcast, body numb. Soot-stained and wreaking of smoke, she closed herself in her room and fell into bed. She cried for a while when she found sleep elusive. Bells later, she dragged the small paper sachet from a pocket, staring down at it and wishing, for a moment, that Ves's note hadn't burned along with everything else in the tavern because she wanted to read it again.

A bell after that, Bronwen tore the sachet open and inhaled every bit of the Blike that Ves had left her.

[Anomaly]

Bronwen was right. No amount of water was going to save the Pig’s Foot tavern, and the crowds efforts were not nearly coordinated enough to prevent to conflagration from spreading, and spread it did. By the time it eventually guttered out it had claimed several of the homes that lined the Castle Commons and claimed another popular tavern known as ‘No man’s Tavern’ by the locals. This was enough to get it to start spreading in the Rotten Reaches as well, though fortunately the Daggerhands were prepared enough to contain the blaze before it spread very far.

When the fires had finally been all extinguished, it was left mostly to the residents of this community to pick up the pieces. The Castle Commons was in shambles for the foreseeable future, the large fire having gutted the central part of it. Normally in times like these the other gangs would get together in order to help build the commons back up, it being the central marketplace for the city, however as it happened, the other gangs had their own problems to deal with. There had been other attacks elsewhere in the city that had been just as deadly.

Over at the Heaps, the Muted Maiden had been set ablaze and before the Night Eyes had managed to get enough people to contain the blaze the Simpering Sea cow, and several homes had been consumed by the spreading fires. Elsewhere in the Sunset Quarter, a similar attack had been launched on the Proving Grounds, burning it to the ground thoroughly and so completly that it hardly had the chance to spread thanks to the dragoons quick response time.

A thick smoky haze blanketed the city from all the fires, and when it rained it tasted like ash. Everything seemed to grind to a halt with the fires, including business at Brega’s which was currently as empty as the streets outside were. No one was leaving their homes, too concerned with packing their things in case another fire started spreading again and so it was the perfect time for a meeting.

Just before late afternoon they started filtering in. Men and women of all calibers, all bearing the distinctive Daggerhand mark. They kept coming until there was barely any standing room available and Brega had all hands out keeping them refreshed while they waited for the meeting to start. It didn’t take long. A woman with reddish gold hair entered the establishment and collectively the room went silent. Anyone bearing a Daggerhand mark had no problems recognizing the woman but the rest just looked confused. This woman was obviously not Stiletto but then again, much had changed. Things were always changing in an organization this chaotic, but these last couple of seasons had been particularly special in that regard. Of course the Daggerhands preferred to keep these internal bloody squabbles private, but now it was time to shed some light.

The woman climbed on top of one of the tables, and scanned around the room carefully, then said. “All of you should have heard by now what has been happening in the city today…” She said, letting those words marinate for a chime before she continued speaking. “Its obvious who this was. Them Night Eyes are looking to make a play for more territory, and so they’re obviously trying to stir shite up with these attacks.” The reaction to that statement was decidedly mixed. There were of course a few grunts of agreement, but there was also a fair bit of dismissive grumbling from the edge of the group. Grumbling that the woman plainly heard clear enough as her lips tightened into a thin line.

“I know what your thinking. That this is the grudge talking, but think about it for a tick will ya? This was a coordinated attack, and no one has been caught for it yet which makes you think of who exactly? Besides we’ve all heard the rumors that them knights were seen around that tower of theres, and those knights couldn’t have reached the Tent City without the Night Eyes knowing about it and where they went afterward. Why haven’t we found anyone yet? How did these knights just vanish into thin air? The only ones I think that could accomplish such a thing would be them-”

“Why they attack two of their most profitable locations then? Do they just suddenly hate mizas now? Have they got religious like them knights?” A man interrupted, drawing a scattered bit of laughter from the crowd as the red head fixed him with a glare.

“What do you know of their profits? Did you suddenly get a job I don’t know about?” She said through gritted teeth.

“Anyone with eyes can see how popular those places are, and besides if anyone is working with those knights its those dragoon shykes. Their headquarters is right across from the petching tent city.”

The red head rolled her eyes as she stopped her foot on the table. “I don’t expect a tanner’s welp to know anything about strategy or tactics so I won’t bother trying to explain how stupid your explanation is. It was obviously not the dragoons, and when Siv-… he gets back from meeting with the Suns we’ll know what they know about the attack and we’ll be that much closer pinning it on the actual culprits. However, I don’t know about everyone else but I’m not content to sit my ass waiting for them to figure it out. We need to help, starting with anyone who actually witnessed the fire coming forward to explain everything they witnessed. Any detail could matter, so don’t skip. Now, how many of us witnessed the fire?” She asked, looking at the crowd and quickly becoming disappointed as no one raised their hands.

[Bronwen]

"Why here," Bron asked Hadrian in a whisper, gaze traveling over Brega's suddenly crowded sitting room, "why do the Daggerhands have to meet here?"

Hadrian shrugged a shoulder, looking distracted as he also scanned the crowd. Bron knew why. She knew who the tall man was waiting for to make an entrance and couldn't blame him. Hadrian and Bron were close friends, talked often, and learned much about each other. Hadrian was waiting for Stiletto, his rumored biological father, to arrive. Bron wasn't so sure about the credibility of that rumor, seeing as no one even knew who Stiletto was or whether or not he was even male, but she'd support her friend, no matter what the truth revealed itself to be.

A hush fell over the sitting room, and Bron glanced up to see that a copper-haired female had entered, drawing the room's attention. Bronwen instantly disliked her.

The newcomer wasted no time climbing up on a table, and Bron couldn't hold back her eye roll. Hopefully, that table was sturdy enough to support the woman's ego along with her weight. As Red started gibbering, the guard let her attention wander around the room, watching the faces of those in attendance and seeing a mixture of disinterest, agreement, indecision, and outright contempt looking back at the female as she spoke.

Bron prided herself on staying as neutral as possible when it came to the Sunberth gangs. She knew very little about them, save what anyone knew after spending any amount of time in the city, but she never asked questions, never overly invested her opinions in conversations where gangs were the subject, and tried really hard to keep her nose on her face and out of gang politics. But when Red mentioned "them knights," Bron's attention snapped back to the woman like a snapped band.

Surely, Red wasn't referring to her father and his entourage. That had been on the 10th, and Bron hadn't seen hide nor hair of Matrim or his companions in the city since. Besides, the Order wouldn't be in the back pocket of any gang, especially the Night Eyes. Right?

Bron's heart flipped in her chest, thinking that the Night Eyes might have been in The Order's back pocket, though, and her very own father seemed to be in command that night in Sunberth.

Wait. No. Bronwen shook her head at the thought. Her father had been in the city looking for Sam, not leading his Knights in some assault in the city. Not with a handful of knights, and that was weeks ago anyway. A man spoke up from the crowd, and Bron took the opportunity to glance sidelong at Hadrian.

"Them knights," she said, leaning closer, "isn't a reference to Sun's Birth, is it?"

The taller guard nodded in agreement but kept his eyes forward, watching the room. Bron took a slow deep breath, feeling suddenly edgy but unsure why. She had an idea, though.

Ves had been seen at the Pig's foot last night. After nearly eight weeks of nothing, no word, no message, Ves visits one of the most popular taverns in the city to leave a note and a kitten on the very night the place burns to the ground. Ves could have had one of the many street kids bring the message and Precious to Brega's if she didn't want to see Bron face to face, but she chose the Pig's Foot and ensured that word got back to Bron that she's been there. Why? Why last night? Bron's eyes slid back to the redheaded tabletop speaker, eyes narrowing. Or had it been someone that looked like Ves?

Bron sighed and shook her head at her stupidity. Why would anyone want to lure her to a bar just for that bar to burn down? No one in Sunberth knew who Bron's father was, and no one she knew had a reason to want to tie her up in whatever was going on in the city.

Still, in the pregnant silence that followed Red's call for fire witnesses, Bronwen Druva held her tongue.

Beside her, she felt Hadrian shift and knew the man was looking at her. After another tick of silence from Bron, Hadrian nudged her arm.

"Why aren't you saying anything," Hadrian hissed through his teeth, "you were there, Bron."

"Something doesn't feel right," she whispered back.

"Like?"

Bron turned her face, catching Hadrian's gaze, "like...who my father is and the people this woman is blaming," she shook her head, "I just...I haven't heard from Ves in fifty-five days. Nothing. Then the one night I do, I'm drawn to tavern chimes before it, and half the block burns to the ground?" she scoffed, "it just doesn't feel right."

Hadrian squinted at her a moment, obviously thinking this through, then said, "Okay." That was it. Just a simple acceptance of Bron's words. Complete trust. That was why she loved the man to death. Bron hissed back that they would talk later and turned her attention back to the room and Red, still waiting for witnesses to speak up. Bron wouldn't be one of them.

[Anomaly]

As the silence stretched on, the red head appeared to get more and more irritated until finally she hopped down off the table. She made a beeline for one man sitting backwards in a chair, snatched him up onto his feet then whispered something coarsely into his ear before letting him go, and storming out of the brothel. After a moment, the man grimaced, then brushed himself off before looking at the rest of them.

“Ight, this is how its gonna be. Any of you’s already have information, you come to me in Brega’s room to spill the information. Come as you like, in groups or alone whichever you a prefer but yous got a bell to do it and not a hair more. If you aint got information than I best advise you to get some. Snatch someone off the streets, turn them beggars out of their holes. Do what ye needs to in order to get it done. I want intel, whatever ya got and ya better not come back empty handed. Best you don’t show your face around at all till you do, ya hear?” He said, banging his fist on the table before storming towards Brega’s office.

The departure from Bregas was much less organized than the arrivals had been. A chunk of Daggerhands departed right away leaving a clutch milling about the main room trading gossip for a few chimes before more and more filtered either out onto the streets or into Brega’s office. Hadrian however wasn’t going to wait to steal a moment. He took Bronwen to the side of the stair where they wouldn’t be overheard and whispered tersely.

“That’s the old man’s grand daughter. The spitfire with the red hair. If she’s involved then shites really gone upriver. Best you forget you saw anything if you want to stay out of her way. In fact, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get away from Brega’s for a bit. Maybe across the city as far away from the Daggerhands as you can possibly get. Just for a few days until this all blows over. It would be better to get out of the city altogether, maybe hang out in the Outpost, but I know just how well you’d take that advice.” Hadrian said with a sardonic smile.

“Seriously though Bron, she’s bad news and mayhaps one of the street rats they drag back recognizes you from the fire? What then? What with everything, you’d make awfully good kindling for the fire they’re building. If you want to get ahead of it… well, you could go to the hot springs. That old couple wouldn’t mind sheltering you for a few days while we get this all sorted out. Just make sure you stay well away from the Rookery on the other side of the river, down from the Gated Community. That’s where the big meeting is being held between the Daggerhands, Night Eyes, and Sun’s Birth. Trust me, you don’t want to be anywhere near there right now, especially if any of that group decides to come out. It would put you in an interesting situation to say the least.” Hadrian said with a sight as he leaned briefly against the stairs before standing up straight.

“Anyways, I’ve got business of my own to handle. Stay safe Bron, and keep your head down. Just stay out of trouble okay? Everyone is on edge, and it won’t take a whole lot to break this dam.” Hadrian said patting her on the shoulder before turning to head to Brega’s office leaving Bronwen to her own devices. Not many were left in the common room, just a handful of Daggerhand thugs milling about, talking shite about their orders. A few had noticed the whores lingering on the edge of the gathering and had begun their own crude variations of catcalling.

There was a choice to be made now, one of several as the city smoldered around this humble little establishment. Bronwen had been left with quite the predicament, and whatever she decided, it was clear that powerful forces were at work in the city. Some organization was pulling the strings, and she had to make sure she was on the right side of whatever happened next.

[Bronwen]

Bronwen turned with Hadrian and watched as the other guard disappeared into Brega's office, a twinge of unease running through her.

The man was right; Bron should disappear for a while, but she didn't think it was possible. Not only would she have to ask Brega for some time off, but Brega would also no doubt want to know why especially since Bron had been taking so much personal time to look for Ves. No. Bron would stay and hope the Daggerhands wouldn't start offering coins for information about the fire.

The street rats of Sunberth knew not to squeal too loudly when any of the gangs started asking questions, but when money was used as a lubricant to loosen tight tongues, there was no guarantee that one wouldn't squeal like a petching pig. Bron just had to hope that the Daggerhands were holding fast to their coin. At least for the time being.

Bron could ask her own questions, though, and the one person whom Bron really needed to talk to was her father. She needed to get a message to Matrim to meet her at the Outpost. He'd know what Bron should do or at least provide someone to offer a bit of protection for her until this shyke blew over. Finding someone to deliver that message, though, would be either dangerous or costly. Probably both.

Unless...the Knights were already in the city to attend that meeting Hadrian mentioned or, rather, warned her about. If they weren't attending the meeting, Bron thought they would at least be keeping an eye on it if they were even in the city. Red sure thought they were. Hadrian had told Bron not to go near the Rookery, and she wouldn't. She'd been digging around Tent City for weeks. Surely, one more trip to pick through the remains of her lover's home wouldn't draw eyes. The Night Eyes wasn't big on patrols, anyway, and she'd get close enough to see who was coming and going from the tower. If Bron were lucky, she'd spot a Knight doing the same.

Bron grabbed her quarterstaff and squeezed out of the door into the afternoon sunlight with a handful of those exiting the meeting. Breaking away from the meeting goers, the guard made straight for the river, hailed a fairy, and crossed over to the other side. Bron exited the boat very close to the burned-out husk of Tent City and did precisely what she had done for weeks; sifted through burned tents and trash heaps in search of...whatever she thought she might find.

After several chimes, Bron slowly began to move her way north toward the Rookery, steps slow, gaze wandering lazily, demeanor relaxed.