For Genny, there were several things in the world which made very little sense. One of them was Treadwell’s appetite; another was Glenn’s ability to speak at great lengths without coming up for air. However, the best example of the category was Agnieszka in her entirety. For instance her big, blabbing mouth; but then again, Genny had only heard wind of the letters send to a select few councilors and not Berdini or Rhaena; so their were some assumptions made in that regard. All she could do was hope the woman had sense enough to lie low where it counted. Rather like relying on Gloria to keep from being a judgmental loud mouth.
She did have the good sense to write and to leave her letter unsigned. It would not take Genny long to locate the woman with a few questions along the lines of, ‘have you seen an insufferably rude woman, boisterous, likes to insult people? The one with black hair – yes, that’s her.’ These questions were most effective with several tavern patrons and barkeeps in the fine establishments that hadn’t quite transitioned to tea and lace.
It was these questions that lead her to a small street in the thick of Myrkentown. The ladies here are no where near as fancy as the Teahouse girls, the cobbled stone reeks of piss and vomit, the alleys are dark even in the day. And it is such an improvement over what it used to be. It is in a pub at the end of this tiny street that a hooded woman, red hair peeking out, approached the barkeep with similar questions – as clearly, thus far, they’ve lead her here.