During tournaments, the city's population rises from a few hundred inhabitants to a few thousand. Above the clamour of the crowd a single voice cought Ania's ear. That song could earn her more coins in an evening than picking pockets all week. She could use it again at the next tournament, at any town fair and in the pubs. The Gypsy found the source of the song bound in the stocks.

Ania rejects the idea of breaking the lock in exchange for the song. She could offer a bag of coins, but it wouldn't stay safely in the pocket of a prisoner.

Let the bartering begin.

(I started this as a short story but got stuck on the ending. Another player will give it the life it needs to finish. Violence is possible, but no +18 romance please. Thank you.)