But should this situation deteriorate, she had it in a pouch attached to her other belt that was worn inside her tattered dress, against her skin.

Both gnomes turned down another alleyway, and alert and cautious, Serena followed them at the same time scanning for possibly more who might be involved in this caper…or whatever was happening.

They went down yet another alleyway and she began to get concerned.

She had wandered the Shanty somewhat copiously, but she did not know it. Not close. It was not huge, but it was a maze. A mishmash of wynds and closes. She could easily get trapped in a dead end or so lost, it would take ages to find her way back.

The gnomes again turned, taking another alley, and Serena was wondering if she should leave it at the fact she gave chase, find another bottle of grog (for she had another purse inside her belt with some coin alongside a parchment signed by True that she could show to the guard at Birchlire to be allowed back in, no matter her state when she returned).

She didn’t finish wondering.

The gnomes ducked into a doorway, disappearing inside an abode, and when she stopped outside it, deciding she was not going into those murky depths and wind up in a trap, a voice called out, “Princess Serena, you’ll want to walk in here and hear what we have to say.”

She stared into the depths just as a match was struck and a lone candle was lit on a table at the back wall.

One of the gnomes was standing on the table, the other one climbing the rickety chair at the side to do the same.

She did not move.

When the other one was also on top of the table, he turned to her and stated, “Approaching that troll would ruin everything we’ve been working to achieve in the Shanty. But worse, it might save The Rising.”

At these words, she walked through the door.

The gnome that lit the candle lit another one beside it before he hopped down to the seat of the chair, then to floor and moved across the room, disappearing in the shadows.

“Close the door,” the one still on the table ordered.

Serena was not keen on taking orders, or closing herself in with the unknown, but these were gnomes.

Not that they couldn’t be dangerous in their own ways.

But they were known to act as spies.

Not to mention, there were very few charmed folk in the Shanty at all.

For unlike her kind, for the most part, theirs took care of each other.

Thus, she did as told, her hand wishing her dagger was not in her boot, but at her belt.

The room started to illuminate, albeit dimly, as the other gnome lit several candles along a mantel over a cold fireplace.

“I am Welbrix of The Doors,” the one on the table said. He swept an arm to the one who was sliding down a rope attached to a hook in the mantel. “That is Galbdor, also of The Doors. You can call us Gal and Brix. We are spies for Prince True.”