Vi sat cross-legged on the small cot in the dim room Vander had claimed for them, her fingers idly flipping the edges of a worn playing card. The muffled hum of activity in The Last Drop filtered through the thin walls, a comfortingly familiar chaos. Suddenly, Vander’s heavy boots thudded down the hallway, and the door creaked open. He told her that the Enforcers were making another one of their usual 'routine inspections' in Zaun. It just annoyed the teenager.

She was used to the chattery — Vander's reluctant civility towards the Enforcers. But something was different this time. A medolic voice could be heard — a sweet british accent that sounded like a girl about her age. Vi didn’t hesitate before jumping from the couch and peeking through a crack on the door — her powder blue eyes widening.

Standing beside a tall, stoic man and an equally regal woman was a girl about her age. Her dark blue hair was neatly tied back, and her crisp uniform was immaculate. She carried herself with a grace Vi had never seen before—straight-backed, head held high, her hands folded delicately in front of her.

A Piltie girl.