Chapter Seven
Gears of War
Embedded Files
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You stand in the middle of the abandoned metalworks, looking up at the puppets suspended above you. Their blank eyes stare down at you.
The Guild of Heroes is in an uproar.
Cygnus crosses his arms. “You might want to rethink what you said about thinking Aoife isn’t behind this. I doubt making iron puppets is just a ‘casual hobby.’ And if it is? That’s one hell of a hobby.”
Branwen is disgusted. “This is most heretical! Whosoever had permitted such a grievous act must be brought to rightful judgment."
Nika steps forward, adding her voice to the din. "Is there evidence the Autumn Court is behind this? Is finding it proof enough to get us the visas we are supposed to have to be here?"
"Oh, I should have stayed at the café..." Maisie groans.
Sparrow, who is standing silently with his brow furrowed, talons resting thoughtfully on his chin, finally speaks.
“... no tools, no schematics, no coal for fires. And no trace of any iron ore. Just shells of iron puppets.” He pauses and looks around the group. “Doesn’t this all seem a little… staged? Like someone wanted us to find this?”
The room falls quiet as the Guild members consider this. It’s clear that the metalworks factory has not been used recently. Could it be used as storage instead? It seems like a too public of a place to store a secret this damning.
Then, a voice cuts through the uneasy silence.
“Well, well, Guildmaster Sparrow. I didn’t expect to find you here. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
A tall, slim figure emerges from the shadows, robed in moss and leaves. Her wooden mask obscures her face, but a crown of branches adorns her head. A dryad. The scent of damp forest follows her. She holds a gnarled wooden staff in her hand, an emerald fixed to the top.
“Ruania, I take it?” Sparrow replies coolly.
From the dark, others emerge - more silent, hooded figures in wooden masks and leafy cloaks.
“You covered your tracks well, Guildmaster. Clever - sneaking into the city, disguised and hidden so you could move around without being noticed. My spies at the ticket office were none the wiser.”
“I have more than one reason for entering the city unnoticed, Ruania.” Sparrow replies. “There’s a force at work in this city, and I don’t believe it’s the work of your revolutionaries, nor the Autumn Court. I think it’s high time we compared notes.”
Ruania regards you all silently, her expression hidden behind her wooden mask. Then, she gives a simple nod.
“Let’s talk - but not here. We’ll take you back to one of our hideouts.”
⚙️⚙️⚙️
The Old Ways guide you through the dark streets of Skjolden, until you arrive back at the abandoned Church of Rhiannon. One by one, they slip through the doorway of the decrepit building. As they pass the threshold of the church, a faint glimmer of magic washes over you and makes your head hurt. A powerful spell lies over the Church - perhaps a glamour?
Sparrow shakes his head. “No wonder they found us. We walked right past their front door.”
As you follow the masked revolutionaries through the doorway, you wonder if you’ve somehow stepped back into the nAmhrán woods. The Church has been transformed into a golden oasis filled with oak and birch trees, their branches reaching toward the stained glass ceiling overhead. Soft leaves, toadstools and acorns cover the floor. The pews and dais have been cleared in favour of a long table laden with maps and blueprints. As you enter, some acorns tumble after you, following curiously, and a faun pauses his pipe song to slip on his wooden mask.
Ruania stands at the immense wooden table, regarding the scrolls littering the surface. She speaks without looking up.
“You are under parley.” She states simply. “Within these walls, no harm will come to you.”
The Guild settles among her people - some curious, and others wary.
Chapter Seven, Quest One
Rust and Revolt
What a strange turn the evening has taken. Still reeling from your discovery of the iron puppets, you’re now in a diplomatic meeting with the violent revolutionary group that has been terrorising the city the past few weeks. It’s a good time to speak to them, learn about their views and share your perspective - whatever it may be. They are passionate, dogmatic and suspicious - but eager to learn more about the Guild. Some members are radical and have escalated their activities willingly. Some believe in the cause, but are uncomfortable with how violent things have become in the last few weeks.
A faun sits quietly playing the pan flute. He is an artisan, calm and dogmatic, and deeply loyal to Ruania.
A stonefolk woman, heavily scarred, is sharpening her huge sword. Despite being a champion, she is averse to the increasing violence.
A chipmunk critter sits, whittling arrows for his bow. He lost his partner in the "war" against Aoife and believes the violence is necessary.
A squirrel wildling is making explosive nuts for her slingshot. She doesn't really care about the growing violence, but is very curious about the Guild.
A brownie is playing cards in the corner. She doesn't like the violence, but is deeply suspicious of the Guild.
A woodwose organises scrolls at the main table. He is also lost a partner to the violence, but is more sad than angry. He is not sure about the guild, but also is starting to double Ruania.
Draw or write about your character taking refuge in The Old Ways base, meeting with the members. What are they like? Does your character sympathise, or are they against their ideology?
Reward: 100 fairy gold 💰
Sparrow joins Ruania at the war table. She regards him stoically.
“Aoife’s machines defy the natural order of Folkland. Metal, smoke and industry spreading all over the Autumn and Winter duchy… disrupting the balance of nature - it isn’t right. She builds things under the guise of innovation - but fae living in a city made from metal and smoke is not our way.” Ruania’s voice rises, and some of the Old Ways members nod and call out in agreement.
“Once, we protested peacefully. Until she began abducting our people.”
The statement falls like a hammer over the group.
“Members of your order have been abducted?” Sparrow says in disbelief.
“Almost a dozen now, over the last few months. Picked off, one by one. We’ve taken to travelling in groups to be safe.”
“Ruania, I understand you think the Autumn Court is behind this. But are you going to hurt innocent people just to make your point?”
“Anyone who stands by and lets her get away with it is part of the problem. Rich business owners, warehouse workers, crafters and carpenters, technology manufacturers and arcane articicers… they’re all part of the problem.” Ruania snaps. “And now I receive information that she has her hands on iron ore! She quietly imports it into the city, hoping no one will notice.” She spits bitterly. “And tonight we find her creations - iron machines designed to destroy the fae. This has to stop.”
Sparrow frowns. “Who told you about the puppets, Ruania?”
She squints at him. “A member of the Autumn Court.”
“What did they look like?”
“Disguised - always cloaked from head to toe when we meet. They told us about the iron ore, and where to find the puppets tonight. Running into you was a surprise - but perhaps it wasn’t such an innocent coincidence. I hear Aoife is an old friend of yours, Guildmaster.” The accusation rings in the air.
Sparrow is nonplussed, and rubs his chin thoughtfully again. “Funny - that’s the very same description that Clay gave of this ‘informant’.”
He turns to the room, speaking to both the Guild and The Old Ways. “What I’m getting at is this - how do we actually know that the informant works for the Court of Steam?”
The room stirs.
Ruania folds her green arms across her chest and shrugs. “They know everything. I was given blueprints. They tipped us off about the ore being imported, and the puppets stored here tonight. And we received information that they have been making something - something they plan to unveil at the innovation fair tomorrow.” Ruania’s voice turns lethal and she braces her arms on the table, shaking with rage. “Plus… this informant knew which of our members had been stolen, and who was going to be targeted next. It has to be coming from inside the court.”
Sparrow turns to look at her, grim. “I have a different theory.”
He turns to the Guild next. “But first - I made a promise to tell you everything. A promise I intend to keep. And I believe this tale may be of interest to The Old Ways too.”
He takes a breath, eyes distant.
“Long ago, Aoife was one of us. A Guild hero. She was brilliant, driven - obsessed with invention. But when the Guild grew corrupt, when power and gold mattered more than saving lives, Aoife saw what we were becoming and walked away. She built Skjolden and never looked back. I stayed behind and became apprenticed to Guildmaster Harrow. I was still a young chick then - foolish, full of ideals. I believed we could still do good. But it was too late. Factions formed in the Guild. We fought each other more than the real threats in Folkland. Then came the debate over closing the portals to the human realm. That was the end of us - The Guild fell to a civil war, the Hall of Heroes destroyed and heroes scattered across Folkland. After the Guild fell, I went travelling. I kept in touch with old comrades. Camembert, Adeline, Filibuster, Thamuz, Big Poe, Rebar and Claudius… but one by one, they stopped replying. Powerful heroes - vanished without a trace. One day, on the road to warn other friends, I was attacked - iron puppets and a cloaked figure in a metal mask. It called itself ‘Limos.’ I barely escaped with my life.”
He looks around, voice hardening.
“Whoever they are, I believe this group is capturing powerful fae beings, starting with the only group that could regather and oppose them - the old Guild of Heroes. It seems they have finished that task and are now targeting the courts themselves. We must gather allies, information, and influence. We must unite the Duchies, and find the four weapons of the Goddesses - the Bow, the Sword, the Censor and the Horn, before the iron enemies get to them. And we must find out what their plan is.”
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The conversation stretches late into the night. Sparrow recounts the Guild’s encounters with the iron puppets, but Ruania remains skeptical. Her resentment toward the Autumn Court runs deep - many among the Old Ways have lost loved ones, and they demand someone to blame.
“What are you planning at the Innovation Fair, Ruania?” Sparrow asks at last.
“Our informant tells us the Autumn Court plans to unveil something catastrophic tomorrow. If they do - we will end them once and for all.”
Sparrow’s voice hardens. “That would plunge the city into chaos.”
“They’ve turned away from Aoife’s crimes for too long,” Ruania snaps. “Folkland must choose a side.”
Sparrow rises. “I understand your pain, Ruania. I know you are afraid to lose your home and your family. But if you plan to shed blood tomorrow, you’ll have to go through the Guild first.”
As the Guild turns to leave, Ruania glares after them, eyes burning with pain and purpose. A flicker of doubt crosses her face.
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The next morning, the meeting with Aoife finally approaches. The guild make their way toward the Autumn Guild House. It is a tall, crooked structure haphazardly crafted with glass domes, copper spires and brass piping. In the foyer, a clockwork automaton checks you in.
“Ah yes… appointment under… the Foundation for Arcane Research & Technology? You may proceed, Aoife is expecting you. Don’t touch the stair railings - they are, at present, slightly cursed due to some cursed monkeys we received yesterday.”
You head up a creaking spiral staircase that runs along the inside of a massive glass dome. At the top, you're ushered into Aoife’s workshop - and it takes your breath away. The room is enormous, with a wide bay window offering a panoramic view of Skjolden: steam plumes, arched pedestrian bridges, airships drifting across the city, stretching to the horizon. Sunlight filters through the glass ceiling, dancing off the countless devices scattered across tables and shelves.
At the center stands Aoife - tall, wild-eyed, and entirely in her element. Her short, wavy hair sticks out in every direction, one eyebrow half-singed. Her tailored suit is coal-smudged and patched with odd fabrics and metal cables. Thick goggles are pushed up onto her forehead, and a golden, mechanical eye glints in place of her left one. Her wings are metallic, delicate as filigree, and clicking and humming softly. A brass prosthetic arm and leg hiss and click as she tinkers with a copper butterfly on her workbench.
On the table nearby sits a lump of dull silver metal and a large, tarp-covered structure in the corner.
She turns to you as you enter, and grins. “The Foundation for Arcane Research and Technology? Sparrow, you old dog, I haven’t heard that codename in years. It’s bloody good to see you.”
⚙️⚙️⚙️
You’re soon settled into Aoife’s workshop, seated on mismatched chairs and sipping mugs of hot maple ale from self-stirring cups. You accidentally slosh some of your drink dodging a copper butterfly that is shooting around the workshop, and your mug hoots like a steam train in indignation.
The two old friends are commiserating and catching up. Aoife looks around at you all proudly.
“It’s jolly good to see a new generation of heroes, in my court of all places. But why the sneaking around Sparrow? Why the codename? I would have granted you visas to the city the moment you asked.”
Sparrow’s tone turns grave. “Aoife, we’re not hiding from you. We’re hiding from whoever’s been stirring up trouble between your Court and the Old Ways. Someone’s trying to frame you - claiming you’ve built machines to harm fae. The Old Ways have been radicalized. We didn’t want to risk interception.”
He gestures, and the Guild lays out the iron puppet, the animation scrolls, and the mysterious blueprints.
Aoife’s eyes go wide. She strides over immediately, pulling a tiny screwdriver from somewhere in her sleeve and poking at the puppet like a curious child. “Fascinating… Alloy shell, some kind of temporary internal energy source. This isn't standard animation magic. It's… mixed. Fae and iron. Ugh, something about it is just wrong. Where did you find this?
“In one of your abandoned factories in the old town.” Sparrow says.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “In Skjolden? Someone’s been building these under my nose?”
“We don’t think so. They were staged.”
Aoife frowns. “Iron doesn’t occur naturally in Folkland. And it’s banned to import it from the human realm. Even if we could find it, it’s far too dangerous for fae to mine it.”
Sparrow points to the lump of metal on the table. “Then how do you explain this? Forgive my rudeness, old friend, but you really must explain yourself.”
She laughs. “Ah! That’s not iron.” She picks up the silver lump. A few Guild members gasp - but she shows no sign of pain.
“This is Runite. Just discovered it in the Winter Duchy caves near Grodnov. It’s like tungsten, but behaves like crystal - it’s arcane-reactive, durable, corrosion-resistant, and… oh, here.” She tosses it to Sparrow.
The moment his talon closes around it, the metal gleams and faint white runes bloom across its surface.
Aoife claps excitedly. “See? It amplifies magic! We’ve barely scratched the surface of what it can do.”
She walks over to the tarp and yanks it off with a flourish. “And this—this is what we’ve made from it.”
Underneath stands a massive automaton - humanoid, bulky, with a central cockpit shaped to fit a fae. Runite plating gleams in the light. Pipes and water canisters hiss gently on its back.
“This is the Enforcer - not a weapon, a tool. We made it for engineers working with volatile arcane materials - we’ve had an unacceptable amount of injuries in the lab as of late. It's a protective suit! We're unveiling it this afternoon at the Innovation Fair.”
Sparrow’s voice turns serious. “Aoife, if you do, the Old Ways will see it as proof you’re building weapons. They’ll attack.”
Aoife’s grin fades, replaced by a calculating look. “Then we draw the real saboteur out. They’ll be watching. If they want to stir chaos, they won’t miss the fair.”
She whirls toward the door. “Candlestick! Cancel the rest of my morning appointments!”
The mechanical receptionist peeks in. “Ma’am, the fair begins in just a few hours and there could be Old Ways members in the streets - ”
“Nonsense! I’ll be fine. I have the Guild with me.”
Chapter Seven, Quest Two
The Heart of the Machine
You’ve met the enigmatic duchess of the autumn court, Aoife. How do they react to the Enforcer? To the Runite? Do they believe Aoife or are they still suspicious?
You can interact with the runite sample.
If your charater has a magic stat of 5 or higher, the runite causes your magical powers to amplify for a brief second, causing a surge of magic! You receive a shard of runite.
You can try on the Enforcer suit.
If your character has a strength stat of 5 or higher, you are strong enough to operate the suit. You can test out its protective qualities and try to withstand an attack from a friend! You receive an arcane copper wire.
You can sneak around Aoife's workshop and look for clues.
If your character has an intelligence stat of 5 or higher, you find old photos, blueprints, prototypes, and letters, but nothing suspicious. You receive a butterfly-bot blueprint.
You can speak to Candlestick and ask him questions.
If your character has a charisma stat of 5 or higher, Candlestick reveals he plays in an all-automaton-barbershop-quartet in his spare time. You receive a ticket to his next show.
Draw or write about your character meeting with Aoife at the Steam Court, the conversation that follows and exploring the workshop.
Reward: 100 fairy gold 💰
Skjolden’s annual Innovation Fair is in full swing. Stalls and displays line the streets in every direction, crammed with prototypes, food and items. Colourful banners flap in the autumn breeze, and the smell of oil, coal and burning sugar drifts in the air. Fae artificers and inventors call pitches to passersby over the din of the crowd. Young fae wander around with balloons in the shapes of gears and tools. On the main stage, the Innovation Contest is already underway. A young sprite has engineered a self watering can, and is demonstrating on a pot plant. The judges regard the contestant seriously. “Specimen at 65% humidity!” shrieks the watering can suddenly. “Additional 3.5% moisture recommended for optimal growth!” The judges nod and clap, clearly impressed.
But not everyone is here to celebrate.
In the centre of the square, in full view of the main stage, a group of Old Ways protestors have taken up position. Dressed in leaf-covered cloaks and wooden masks, they wave banners enchanted with slogans:
“Steel and steam corrupt the land,
Nature’s magic must withstand!
Chain the guilty, free the land,
Keep the Old Ways, hand in hand!
One of the masked members shoots off a firework that turns into a swarm of bees, chasing screaming fairgoers down a side street.
The faun from the night before stands atop a crate, calling out with a sonorous voice like wind through leaves -
“Industry destroyed our way of life in the human realm!
If we let it thrive here, it will destroy Folkland too!”
There is an undercurrent of tension in the air, despite the joyous fair going on in the background. Most attendees nervously avoid the protestors.
In the midst of this, Aoife strides confidently through the crowd, her copper arm and leg gleaming in the weak Autumn sun.
“This is worse than I thought,” she mutters under her breath. “They’ve come ready to start a riot.”
Chapter Seven, Quest Three
Industrial Revolution
You’re attending Skjolden’s highly anticipated, annual Innovation Fair. You’re tasked with finding suspicious people in the crowd who could be the Informant. Look for anyone masked, alone. It’s like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but you’ve got to try. They will be near the main stage when the main show begins. Don’t forget to blend in with the crowd and try not to be suspicious - hopefully the Informant still doesn’t know the Guild of Heroes is in the city.
Optional - roll a d4 for a special encounter at the fair!
Someone's invention is going haywire, causing panic and havoc!
A sleazy salesman is trying to sell someone something that clearly doesn't work.
The seller at a stall has to go on lunch break and needs someone to cover.
A contestant in of the minor innovation contests has dropped out and they need a replacement.
Draw or write about your character staking out the Innovation Fair to find the informant. Where do they search? Do they goof off and check out the stalls and entries to the contest? How do they handle the protestors?
Reward: 200 fairy gold 💰
The Innovation Fair is entering the final phase and Aoife is expected onstage at any minute to unveil her new creation. Nobody knows what she intends to unveil, except those who have worked on it, and the Guild of Heroes. The Enforcer is shrouded under a large sheet, positioned in the centre of the stage, drawing curious stares and murmurs from the crowd.
A few Clockwork Knights - in ceremonial steampunk garb - mingle near the stage. Aoife, with her usual disregard for tradition, doesn’t seem to have a royal guard to speak of. Instead, a gaggle of business owners, automatons and scientists outnumber the “guards” - vying for a position at the front of the crowd.
Ruania arrives in a sudden eruption of thorns and spiraling vines, her form coalescing out of the very earth. The crowd gasps as she appears, her voice rising above the din of the crowd. “Your illustrious leader is a murderer, imprisoning those who would speak out against her! And now she wants to build iron machines to suppress all citizens of the Autumn duchy! Just look!”
Ruania unravels a bundled heap in her arms, and an iron puppet falls onto the cobblestoned street in front of her. There are gasps in the crowd.
“Aoife attacked the Spring Duchy not but a few days ago, and she intends to start a reign of tyranny over the natural land! Down with the Steam Court!”
Aoife steps forward. “I know what you think of me, Ruania. But you’ve been lied to. My only intention is to protect my citizens, not subjugate them.”
“Protect them?” Ruania laughs, the sound like a short, sharp bark. “Show your city what you’ve created and tell me it’s going to help anyone.”
“Alright, I’ll show you.” Aoife turns and pulls the sheet off of the Enforcer. Except - there is no Enforcer underneath. Sparrow stands from where he was obscured by the sheet, his sharp eyes searching the crowd for their target.
Ruania pauses, confused. Her group stands idle, looking between her and the Guildmaster on stage.
A dark figure at the very edge of the main square, standing beneath a banner, moves slightly. The figure peels off and tries to head down a side street. A member of The Old Ways steps in front of them.
“Here! I’ve got them!” They call.
Before anyone can react, a metal arm reaches out from underneath the cloak, and grasps the fae by the throat. Fur and flesh start to sizzle, and The Old Ways member shrieks and struggles in the cloaked figures grasp.
The black hood falls back and the figure looks back at the crowd.
Her ‘skin’ is metallic and shiny iron. Her face is an iron mask, sculpted carefully with delicate features like a doll. Her face is blank, but a smug, prideful voice rises as she regards the crowd calmly.
“You dare to touch me? You revolting, unnatural creatures!”
Sparrow’s sharp eyes narrow in on the eerie face. “I recognise you… Limos!”
The figure scoffs, and tosses the fae aside carelessly. Then, she crouches and springs - leaping for the main stage - and right for Aoife.
Chaos erupts as Old Ways members, guild members, and the Autumn Court’s knights rush forward.
Limos moves like the iron puppets - uncannily agile, dodging, rolling and leaping towards Aoife with reckless abandon. She lands awkwardly on the stage and darts forward - grabbing Aoife roughly by her filigree wings. The metal screeches and sparks, and Aoife screams as her copper wings melt where the iron fingers have touched them.
“Apostates! infidels! Spawn of corruption! Servants of darkness!”
Limos takes to the rooftops with her prize, dragging the struggling and hapless Aoife with her. Copper butterflies dart around the two, dive bombing the iron figure, but they seem to have no effect on her ironclad skin. Half the city give chase, taking to the streets and to the rooftops, attempting to chase down Limos. Her iron feet spark and grind against the roof tiles, her black cloak whipping out behind her like a bat in a hurricane.
At the head of the charge is Sparrow, soaring through the skies. Sparrow draws his staff from his cloak and green magic shoots from the tip, but nothing happens.
“Is she immune to magic?” He calls, his voice gasping and hoarse.
The iron figure gains speed and races for the edge of the city, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.
“Unhand me, you bastard!” cries Aoife, sweat beading on her forehead. Her copper arm and leg are smoking and straining, the gears working overtime to strain against the power of the iron woman.
Suddenly, green, curling vines erupt from a building below Limos and Aoife. They churn like green tentacles, hunting for their target. Rising from the hungry maw of vines and leaves, the furious face of Ruania, Keeper of the Old Ways, is seen as runes light up all over her body. Vines grapple and slash at the slippery iron figure, ripping Aoife out from the grip of Limos. She falls to a nearby rooftop, landing hard on her metal arm.
Fury is written all over Ruania’s features.
“Who are you?!” She bellows at the iron figure. “What have you done with my comrades?!”
Limos thrashes and writhes within the viny embrace, but her masked iron face is eerily expressionless. Ruania growls, and the vines strangle tighter.
Sparrow lands next to Aoife and pulls her to her feet, his chest heaving with exertion.
There is a bright flash of purple light, the sound of sizzling, and when the smoke clears, Limos is limp. Her body crumples like a doll, the iron shell collapsing in on itself as if it was empty inside. The vines that held her drop to the ground, blackened and charred with black flames.
Aoife removes her tophat (which miraculously stayed on during the chase) and mops her brow. “She just tried to kidnap me! Does this answer anything, Sparrow?”
Sparrow grips her arm, and shakes his head, looking disturbed. “On the contrary - I’m more confused than ever.”
⚙️⚙️⚙️
Clockwork Knights are ushering civilians out of the square. Guild members and Old Ways are tending to minor injuries, clearing rubble and roof tiles from the streets, and consoling civilians. Having returned to the square, Aoife turns to face Ruania. Her voice is flat and firm, with sweat and smoke streaked across her face.
“You and I need to have a chat.”
“You’ve been led astray, Ruania, and people have suffered because of it. I know you believed in what you were doing, but the violence stops today. Maybe I’ve been too caught up in building, in pushing for progress, and I didn’t listen when I should have. If we work together, we can find a way forward - and prevent making the same mistakes the humans made.”
Ruania seems to have shrunk. “And what am I to do about my missing friends? If you don’t have them, where are they?”
“Help the Guild, Ruania. If anyone can find them and figure this all out, it’s them.”
⚙️⚙️⚙️
Later that evening, heroes, revolutionaries and members of the Autumn Court are squished into The Boiler Room, drinking and feasting together. Sparrow and Aoife sit together, talking freely.
“I know what they’re after in your Duchy, Aoife.” Sparrow is saying. “The Sword of Morrigan. They’ve already taken the Bow, so I can only assume they will go after the Sword, the Horn and the Censor next.”
Aoife gives Sparrow a slightly sheepish look.
“I might have given it to Sifur and the Winter court to hide. No - don’t look at me like that! You know I trust Sifur with my life.” A dewy expression comes over her face.
Sparrow sighs and ignores her expression. “We’ll have to go to Orbost next. I’ll send a message ahead so they know to protect the sword at any cost.”
Aoife leans in. “Go see Nicolai at the Orbost Hospital. They’re a brilliant healer, but their real specialty is necromancy. I want them to take a look at the iron puppets and tell us what they think.”
Sparrow nods at this plan. “We’ll take the train from the border.”
Aoife takes her old friend's talon in her hands. “Sparrow, let me give you tools, money, and resources. Whatever you need.”
Sparrow looks at her sadly. “No, Aoife. The new Guild must remain unbought by any court. Your alliance is enough.”
“Your useless moralising reminds me of the good old days, Sparrow.” She looks around at you all, and a tiny silver tear appears in the corner of her golden clockwork eye. “Do take care, won’t you?”
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