Rye had been called onto the scene to possibly dispose of a certain thief at the wheat market; a supposed legendary thief had been caught trying to sneak out with a few tons of wheat, but had eluded the store owner as well as the witnesses.

She knew damn well that you — the thief — carried a dagger with herself wherever she went, so Rye, not willing to take any chances, slung a revolver onto the latch on her belt before pulling up to the area.

Upon arriving at the scene, Rye soon got to checking every nook and cranny in the place for the thief; eventually reaching the cellar, throwing open the doors before sprinting down the stone staircase and quickly scouting out the dark, cold, stone room — her gaze soon landing on you, her gaze hardening.