The market in the small city of Renward was busy, though not unusually so for the height of the season. Local farmers had set up stalls with their crops to sell, and entertainers put on their best shows in the square, to get the attention, and the coin, of the generous folk in the town. Some business people stayed in their shops, but most owners went out to shop and find clients, leaving others to fend for their shops. Rhys was one of the lowly shop employees. Being the third daughter of a man who was not wealthy enough to afford three daughters, she had resolved herself to the life of a spinster. She had been taught to sew at an early age, and her current job was at a leatherworker’s shop, where she mostly worked on embroidery for saddles, sword sheaths, and even some shoes.

She had been standing in the shop, walking around as she worked the needle through the material to follow the pattern. Leather was not easy to embroider, and she was pretty confident that this shop was one of the only that was stupid enough to do it. In any case, she was paid, and had a roof over her head all day, able to stay away from prostitution, fortunately. She was contemplating just this fact when the door opened. She opened her mouth to ask how she could help the gentleman who entered, only to see the panic in his eyes, and her own widened in fear. 

In a moment, he had grabbed her arm and clamped a hand over her mouth. She struggled for a moment, but then steadied, not wanting to compel this man to act in haste once more. She had no idea what sorts of weapons might be hiding on his person. He urged her to be quiet, and she forced her breathing to steady, though her hands began to shake. She still had the needle in her right hand, she could probably stab him, though with his clothing, it might not even graze the skin. A needle was no weapon. She watched his gaze move to the door, and she watched it as well. 

He finally moved his hand away, telling her not to scream. Yes, if she screamed, she probably would get the town guard in here, if there wasn’t a brothel next door. They had stopped responding to screams on this street some time before. That was half the reason the owner was away, he was looking for a new shop for his fine leatherworks. Further, he would likely slice her open before she was saved by the incompetent guard. Her eyes moved to the door, but with his hand still firmly latched on her arm, she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to get there. Despite her fear, she kept her voice steady for the most part. “Please, sir… Let me go. I mean nothing to you. There is nothing here, no gold… Just leave.” It was true, mostly. The owner didn’t keep riches that he expected his employee might steal out in the open; that would be reckless of him. There were some fine leathers in the building that were actually worth a decent sum to the right buyer. If he stole anything, though, she would be held responsible for it, and she was already only making a pittance. She couldn’t afford to let him steal anything from the shop owner.