The only saving grace of riding a Gisward was that it blasted across the landscape at a blistering speed that had taken Gwen home in just a bit over half the time a normal ride would take. It also caused the rest of the problems as every bump had her falling, slipping or hanging on for dear life as she had zero control over the beast despite it's affection for her.
Not to mention that what little food she'd managed to take out of the wagon had not lasted her appetite and she'd been reduced to eating boiled dandelions like some kind of elf.
Bad Gwen.
She thought, her stomach cramping at the thought of food.
Hunger induced racism is not okay.
Luckily the city was now in sight, the high walls like a yawning mouth and the usual line of caravans outside the morsels being swallowed-
Okay, it's not the heroic vision I had in mind where I ride into town and kick his door in and punch his face but I am going home and eat a sandwich first. A hero sandwich.
She knew it wasn't a great plan either. She'd promised Alouella she'd be safe and the whole ride over every plan she'd had she had imagined Alouella shaking her head in disapproval.
Guess we can ask Twinty. I've gotta see him any...way?
Her thought trailed off as she came closer to the walls, the caravans becoming a spread of wagons and tents forming a makeshift town around the gate. Twenty or thirty groups sat around campfires with goods undelivered.
She fell off of Bartholomew closer to the wall.
“Hey.”
She called to a group of elves that seemed to have been there the longest by the misery in their faces. A great many of them seemed sick, runny noses and sneezing a sign of colds that had Gwen keep her distance.
“What's going on?”
A few of them didn't even look at her, their eyes turning up to stare at the giant bird and licking their lips.
“Didn't you hear about the disaster in the elven kingdom?”
One of them asked. Gwen nodded.
“Well since several hundred people suddenly dropped dead and no one knows why, they decided it might be some kind of disease! They locked us out of the city until the Queen makes a statement.”
“Well...”
She pointed up and down at him and he coughed into a handkerchief.
“Oh, I caught that when I got here. Damn cold is going around and lack of food is making it worse.”
Gwen backed up, suddenly aware that if she were seen too close to the sick elves she might not even be able to get in.
“That sucks. Have you tried hot tea?”
He pointed to a group a few campfires away.
“Ran out. We've had to resort to using up the goods we were supposed to sell since the city won't deal with us.”
A sneezing fit stopped his explanation and Gwen noticed several of the elves had snuck around her, now pinching and grabbing at Bartholomew who panicked and bit one of them, plucking him up and throwing him like a doll.
“Hey!”
Gwen pushed them back from her ride though they still watched the bird.
“Maybe we can do a trade? No one in the city will trade with us since no one wants possibly diseased goods. Even the man we were delivering to won't respond to our requests for help. See, fine elven lumber.”
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He pointed to the wagon parked beside them, riding low with lengths of wood and Weatherworn's symbol on the side.
“And you can't possibly eat that whole bird yourself.”
Gwen glared at their leader, her stomach choosing that moment to growl loudly enough to catch the attention of some nearby tents.
“Then you don't know much about dwarves and their famous love of chicken”
She tried to hop up on his saddle, falling back down each time before mean-mugging them and walking to the gates with Bartholomew behind.
She did not mention to the guards that she'd been in the elven kingdom, Bartholomew giving her a worried look once they were inside. She patted him, mussing his underfeathers.
“Don't worry, I'm not gonna eat you.”
Her stomach growled again. She had had very little to satisfy her appetite, the few supplies she'd been given not fit for dwarven appetites.
“I mean, I COULD. I'm not going to though.”
Bartholomew made a worried noise somewhere in the back of his throat.
Despite the urgency of her mission she stopped at her cafe first, tying Bartholomew around back and letting herself in. There was nothing fresh but some hard bread and jerky were enough for a sandwich and she started the coffee machine behind the counter as she put the sandwich together. The first bite was like biting into a god.
“Mmmm-hurk!”
She turned as she was eating and Twinty sat at her counter, the heavy lock on her front door beside his hands as he tapped his claws. Gwen coughed and spluttered, dry bread and meat confused about which way was up and down. She took a desperate swig from a water barrel that pushed everything down painfully while she pounded on her chest.
“Don't do that!”
Twinty waved at her, dripping sarcasm with every motion and word.
“Oh, no, don't let me stop you. I'm sure your old meat and stale bread is much more important than thousands of dead elves, the whole of your team missing, a complete and utter blank of information out of Wubwé and what the hell happened to the woman who can recreate existence with a piece of paper. Please, finish.”
Gwen placed her hands on her counter, staring down at her sandwich and then looking at Twinty, weighing the importance of her stomach over her information. She picked up her sandwich.
I can do both.
“Here's what happened...”
She explained between bites, Twinty occasionally leaning back as crumbs flew at him and landed on his lap but listening with an intensity that caught every single word.
“-and that's why I stopped for food first. You can't just kick in a man's door on an empty stomach.”
Twinty muttered to himself, his whiskers twitching with every thought.
“Didn't you say that Alouella told you to be careful?”
Gwen shrugged.
“I'm being as careful as I can but it's dangerous to begin with.”
Twinty stood, tapping his cane on the ground.
“Then you're lucky I came to find you and I'm lucky I found you. You've filled in a lot of blank spaces in the story.”
He tapped his cane and started for the door.
“Come. We can begin our assault.”
“Wait.”
Gwen pushed the door to her backroom open.
“No one else is helping the elves out there and they're pretty hungry. Can you have some of your people take what I have to them? It's not a lot but it's something.”
He peeked his head into the back room, quick mental calculations going through his mind, tallying up what he saw.
“Well, I suppose that's not a bad idea. I can do it for twenty percent of the take.”
“Take?”
She asked.
“You know...money. When we sell it to them.”
Gwen looked shocked.
“They're starving!”
“Which means they haven't eaten their money which means we can take it from them. Use your head.”
“Why don't you use your heart? Or did you sell it?”
“You little-!”
He held his breath before he got carried away, slowly letting it go.
“I can't stand people like you but it's honestly no loss to me if we do it your way. Grab your stupid gauntlets and lets go.”
She grabbed them and headed for the back door, Twinty stopping just inside the door to ruffle his cloak so a ratling fell out.
“You heard her. Get a few people together and move that food through the field tunnel.”
The rat nodded and scampered away on all fours, darting out the door and around the corner.