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Blue eyes glanced up over the top of an old, yellowing book at the sound of the tent flapping open, took account of the new arrivals with thankfully unfamiliar faces, and lingered as a hand swept a page back and forth to continue to the illusion of reading. Hazel had arrived early to Hope Passage and found herself a cozy corner of the tent to make herself at home in, her lumpy satchel serving as a makeshift ottoman for her to cross her legs upon. Her travel through the Bone Sea had been quick and without much peril despite her avoiding the path of pilgrims and future martyrs—Hazel understood the sense behind safety in numbers, but certain things were easier when she was alone. Once she’d lost the Ember Makers back at the bordering lands of the Bone Sea there had been next to no excitement with the notable exclusion of seeing Exusia for the first time and finally having a moment of respite to plow through a few chapters of her book.

However, the arrivals were distracting her from her the old Moon Elf piece of historical literature that was so chock-full of needless character development, flowery and overly-descriptive scene dressings, and extremely graphic and prolonged passages about undressings that it made the political and historical views from the author seem unreliable. She sat perfectly still and watched from her corner while mostly blocked from their sight thanks to the woman reading the map. The short man whispered something to the larger woman, but Hazel couldn’t make it out and nobody was paying her to be an eavesdropper anyway. Her eyes glanced back down at the faded novel, read the random paragraph she’d flipped to, and they widened. Oh no... 

A plume of red rose to her cheeks as she snapped the book shut loud enough to alert the others of her half-obscured presence. Carefully, Hazel kept her hand over the title of the book as she slid in into her satchel, heaved the bag up onto her lap, and kept it there like it was cuffed to her wrist and filled with precious gems. She cleared her throat, took a swig from her waterskin, and felt the heat in her face die down. Now it made sense why she’d found the book hidden under a mattress. The title ought to be changed. [i]The Trysts and Temptations of the Moonlit Kingdom[/i]? It was clearly referring to political affairs and the trade of consumer goods, not the smut found present in chapter three. Hazel felt more in danger of being judged for having such a book on her than her spell tome here that the thought of burning it crossed her mind. 

She inhaled deep and collected herself. The idea of destroying something just because she didn’t like it or understand it were the thoughts belonging to an Ember Maker. She slung her satchel over her shoulder as she stood and stretched, her knuckles popping like a wet log in a flame. Just two years ago and she would’ve seen fit to turn this whole desert encampment into a burial mound of twisting glass and burnt bodies. The Ember Makers tolerated the Exusians solely because they stayed locked up in their city and because, secretly, they were terrified of their capabilities. Only Magistrates like Hazel would have the spine to dare stand up against them and their magic, and Magistrates like her were becoming a thankfully scarce resource these days. Despite their boasting of unity against evil they were little more than just another creature of destruction bent on keeping Deadwood from ever regrowing. There was no doubt in Hazel’s mind that this little request of the Queen would be deemed heretical for some reason or another. Not like it mattered; the Ember Makers couldn’t excommunicate her twice.

Hazel walked towards the table in the room. She acknowledged the other arrivals with a head nod but not a single word out of fear of interrupting their conversation—although she was deeply curious as to what they were saying. They seemed to be human like Hazel. She pretended not to notice the amusing nature of their extreme height difference and suppressed a smile as she approached the delegate. Here, she would be able to listen in on the conversation while still making herself appear to be of some use. Hazel freed her map case from its hook and set it down on the table, careful not to disturb any of the work the other woman had done. 

[color=f26522]“Excuse me. You’ve been studying this for awhile. Mind if I look?”[/color] asked Hazel to the delegate, her voice low and scratched. She didn’t wait for permission as she leaned over the table. After the briefest of beats Hazel sighed and shook her head. [color=f26522]“I feared as much. This map is a little outdated.”[/color]

With a flick of her wrist Hazel unscrewed the cap to her map case and retrieved a stack of rolled papers. She undid the ties on a few that still looked a bit crisp and stuffed the rest back into the case. She pressed the maps flat out before herself and the delegate, knitted her brow, and bit her lip as she studied them. Slowly, she began to pinpoint with her finger the discrepancies between the map on the table and her own stockpile.

[color=f26522]“Here. This mountain passage is now collapsed. Better to strike off back here and skirt around the rot grove, otherwise you waste a day or two’s travel before having to either turn around or cut right through it—not ideal. This crossing is still accessible but extremely dangerous to attempt due to one of the Bone Clans claiming it as some kind of holy land. There’s another shallow crossing to the east that they don’t watch right about...here. This town, this town, and this town have all been abandoned. The refugees have formed an outpost called Treloch here that might serve as a respite, assuming you have goods to offer.”[/color]  

Her hand had grabbed a quill and was about to start marking the map when she finally looked over at the delegate and stopped, carefully setting the feathered inkpen back down. With a sheepish grin she said, [color=f26522]“Sorry, I have overstepped my position. Mapmaking is a bit of a hobby of mine. Is this even the planned route for the excursion?”[/color] She took a step away, her arms folded behind her back as her thumbs wrestled with one another. [color=f26522]“Feel free to consult these maps either way. I’ll, uh, just quietly observe, if you don’t mind and...”[/color]

Hazel felt her eyes get drawn back down to the map. She shifted her weight and grimaced before her hand struck out like a cobra, jabbing at the name of some salt lake before it retreated back to being clasped behind her back. [color=f26522]“That’s dried up. Sorry,”[/color] she whispered and then looked away, aware of the nuisance she had already become.