All was quiet, as like any other normal Bree night. Fabric hung from the clotheslines between the two buildings that lined the Scholar’s Stair, floating gently in the wind. It was the only motion in the alley, aside from a cat prowling across the wash lines. The moon shone brightly on the town, and in its light the shingles of one of the rooftops seemed to come to life. They raised up from the rooftop, becoming in form a woman dressed in back, a hood over her head. The figure stared down at the alley for a few moments, watching the cat go about it’s business before scampering southwards. As soon as she was sure nothing was in the alley, the figure leapt through the air, her clothes flowing around her as she twisted, grabbing a clothesline. She hung there for a moment to halt her momentum, before swinging to regain it, leaping off and grabbing another. This time she allowed her momentum to swing her up and over it, twirling in mid-air to grab the line again, swinging to the ground. However, the clothesline bounced slightly, causing two towels to fall slowly to the ground beside her. She landed on the ground with a roll to absorption the impact, coming to a stop just outside of what was arguably one of the most run-down houses in all of Bree. The burglar sighed inwardly. It was truly sad to observe such a beaten, broken structure. Shingles were missing from the rooftop, one spot having a hole. The clay packed into the walls had begun to erode, the wood beneath rotting and decaying, and the door seemed to be naught much better than the driftwood that can be found on the riverbank.
Still, the burglar moved to the door, pressing an ear against it to hear what she could from inside. Good, snores. Two or three young girls, one adult man by the sound of it. She isn’t here. The burglar pulled a knife out of her pocket, sliding it between door and jamb, popping the simple bar lock pit of place with ease. The door swung open and she stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind her with a shake of her head. The house was a single room, split apart by two curtains that were composed of old blankets and cloaks, heavily patched and sewn together with a haphazard construction. Between them lay three small girls, curled around a wood stove in the exact center. The burglar snuck around the edge of the room, towards the back where two wooden trunks sat. She opened them, unsurprised to only find ragged clothes. After a moment, she sighed, going to the edge of the rightmost corner and peering around it.
Suddenly a smell struck her across the face like a fell hammer. She covered her face in a hand and looked around, appalled at the sight before her. An adult man lay facedown on the bed, amidst a pool of alcohol and days-old sweat. Beside the bed was a single chamber pot near-overflowing with urine and vomit. It was all she could do to prevent herself from adding to it as she stepped further into the room, counting the bottles on the ground. The curtain fell shut behind her, accompanied the sound of a child stirring slightly and rolling over. The burglar froze until the snoring resumed, before grabbing four full bottles and slipping them next to the door. It took her four trips, but she silently moved all the bottles to the door, save for one half of a bottle in the man’s hand.
The burglar snuck over to the other curtain, pulling just the end aside, and sneaking past. She was shocked at the sight of neatly made bedding, a bundle of flowers dangling from the ceiling. The bed was vacant; a hooked wooden staff leant against one side of it, next to where a small dagger rested on the sheets. The shadow smiled at the sight of her dagger, gifted to the owner of the bed only a few days before. The location next to be staff made it clear it was used, and that was all the girl had wanted. She sat down next to the bed, scribbling out a note before withdrawing a second coin purse from her pocket and tying the note into the drawstring. She stashed the purse under the pillow, before silently stepping back to the door. The bottles clinked gently as she loaded them into a burlap sack, but the sound was drowned by the snoring from across the room. With a quick glance behind her, the thief snuck back out of the hovel, the burlap sack of booze held carefully in front of her. The execution was flawless, but she could not stop the door from creaking loudly as it shut. She cringed, only to have a young girl’s voice speak out from behind the door.
“Briony, is that you? Did you bring anything to eat? Da forgot to make supper.”
The shadow froze, before opening her mouth to speak with Briony’s voice.
“I left something out on the field, dear. I will return shortly.” The shadow dipped her head for a moment, before becoming one with the night.
Hours later, dawn crept over the tips of the hills, not quite touching the darkened alley beneath the clotheslines. Briony approached the door, slipping stealthily inside and into her room. As soon as the curtains were drawn, she slipped quickly out of her clothes, letting them fall to the floor as she collapses onto the bed. Her nude form is cradled among the sheets for a moment as she lay there, exhausted. She rolled over, only to reach under the pillow and find the coin purse. Her fingers unwrapped the note, angling the paper towards the flickering of the fire and reads:
“Dear Miss Briony
I have been aware of your situation for a few days now, and it pains my heart greatly that you and your family live in such conditions.
I know for a fact that you are an honest woman, who is only trying to do what is best for yourself and your family. I also know that if I had offered you my aid, you would have refused it. So, because I care, I have left you no choice.
I have taken your father’s alcohol from him, and he will be forced to sober up and see what his sloth has made his family into. Inside this purse is enough coin for you to buy yourself a new home, new clothes for the children, and some furnishings. I will be watching to make sure it is used for that purpose, and I promise that if you try to do the honest thing and return the coin, it shall return to you. So please, do what is best for yourself and your sisters.
With much affection
The Booze Faerie.”
“Oh no!” Briony exclaimed, flying quickly into a panic. “Oh no, no….” she threw her blouse and skirt back on, running out the door. Her bare feet cut themselves on the sharp cobblestone of the alley road as she sprinted to the home of Sally the Ale-wife, knocking on the door. “Sally, let me in. The inn’s out of your special ale, and I forgot to deliver this order from Nob. Sally, please!”
“Is something wrong, Miss Briony?” A lithe red-headed woman stepped from the shadows, the bangs of her short, almost boyishly cut hair dancing into her face with the wind. Carria did her best to offer her friend a comforting smile.
“N-no!” Briony’s eyes go wide with near terror. “J-just filling an order for Barly!” Carria placed a hand on Briony’s shoulder, doing her best to sound comforting.
“It’s obviously more’n that. Please, let me help.”
“I don’t know what you mean!” Briony insisted, spinning. around as the door opened. An old woman coming to the door in a dressing gown.
“What’s with all the ruckus at this time of night? You’ll wake up my neighbours before dawn.” As Briony repeated her statement about the special ale, both Sally and Carria studying her carefully. Sally suddenly reaches out to grab Briony’s chin, turning her face side to side as if inspecting it. Finally, the woman lets out a grunt, heading back into the house. “Aye, that I can do.”
“He’s going to beat you for what I’ve done, isn’t he?” Carria sighed, adjusting the belt that held her black robe in place over her mail shirt. Briony spun around to stare at Carria incredulously, going pale.
“You…. You were in my home?!”
“I wouldn’t go as far as to call it that…” Carria cringed, just as much at the fact that she had actually said that as the memory of the house. She somehow manages to get ahold of herself to speak before Briony could. “Please believe me, I didn’t know. But I think this has told me everything I was missing. I’ll return the ale, just please put the coin to good use.”
“Keep your nose out of my business and out of my home! I should call the Watch! And don’t think I’m not considering it!” Briony charged towards Carria, her eyes flashing with anger as she jabs at the girl’s breastplate with a finger. "But no, you buying a wagon-load of ale for Barly will be punishment enough. I don’t need your charity!” Her voice is a low hiss, her teeth clenched. “I don’t need anyone’s charity. Did you even think of what it would look like now of all times, if I suddenly came into that much coin? What were you even thinking? Are you trying to ruin me?”
“I w-was… Just trying to help.” Tears rolled down Carria’s face, but she did her best to stand strong despite it. “Nobody deserves to live like that. Ever. But if that’s how you’d rather exist… That’s fine.” The redhead’s face flashed in anger, snatching her coin purse back. “This is to improve yer life, not t’maintain th’ same crap y’been dealin’ with. I won’t buy a single drop o’ ale for that lazy slob ya call a father. But when ya see sense, it’ll be waitin’ for ya.” Carria turned on her heel, storming off down the lane.
“Owena….” Briony mumbled, her face pale and haunted as she stares into the morning sky. “I have to see Owena.” She sprinted down the road as fast as she could.
After a moment, Sally re-emerged from her house, glancing around at the empty alley with a crate of ale in her hands.
“Girls these days.” Sally sighed, going back inside.
((Co-written with the player of Briony))
