Upon hearing about our new publication, Central Brittany resident Rebecca Larson made contact with myself, Ellis Australis and told me she had an issue that needed immediate attention.
”Well” she said, shifting uncomfortably upon our meeting…
”Its those darn frigg’n damn ghastly none for good sons of drunkards and wenches! living in those horrid sewers!” she exclaims stamping her foot in what clearly is some long pent up frustration.
Moving my arms away from my face slowly, while glancing quickly at a guard passing nearby I respond “yes madam, what seems to be your concern? Is this a matter better handled by relevant authorities?”
Regretting I said any of that, she responded…
“3 times already this week I have been robbed walking along this road by the docks! the guards don’t seem to care at all! she said shaking her fist in the air.”
”When is someone going to do something about them! at least tell them to buy their own fishing poles because they keep stealing mine!”
”Are you certain the guards are not taking this seriously?” I try to comment without another guard walking past hearing”…
Folding her arms and looking at the dagger on my waist belt she quietly says “you tell me, has a guard ever stopped you for walking around with a weapon drawn?
”Interesting point… Mrs Larson” …
”Ms not Mrs!” she responds, as she begins walking away… “I hope you can pass the message on to your friends!”
Concerned about my own safety, and wondering about the friends she spoke of, I begin the walk back to the jetty…
