It was a slow evening at the Peach, the low murmur of voices filling the room, mingling with the occasional clink of cups and the shuffle of feet. Bella, sitting at one of the corner tables, idly twirled a strand of her black curls around her finger as her eyes scanned the room. The door creaked open, and in stepped a few ragged-looking men—strangers to Stoney Sept. They moved with purpose, yet the weariness in their steps made it clear they had traveled long.

One of them, a young lad caught her eye. He looked no older than her. Bella couldn’t help but smile, she came over to him and sat next to him, leaning over to nudge him playfully with her elbow.

"What's a young lad like you doing with a band of old men? Not my prefered company," she teased softly, her voice low, laced with curiosity.