“Oil mining.” I nodded. I’d lived there for a few months, working as a launderer. It was a festering sore of a town.
“Before we left, all ninety of us were called to the National Artisan House, and Lord Tanner came down to the atrium himself. He handed us each our contracts in person. I remember thinking it was quite an honor,” she smiled sardonically. “And then he gave his speech. Each of you is headed for a different point on the compass. And there’s no telling the dangers you’ll face in our current state of conflict, the hardship you may endure. By fulfilling your contract, you become men and women on the front line, and we at the House understand the gravity of this task. Which is why any scribble you send that might help our efforts will be greatly rewarded. Any whispers you pass alo
