Two days passed, and Ysmine still had no idea what to do.
She first tried the mages, but her low station wouldn’t even get her in the door to speak to one, much less beg a favor. Her solitary nature left her with few friends, and it wasn’t likely that she could ask her boss. He’d just want to know why, and that would open up a discussion she wasn’t ready to handle just yet.
Ysmine twisted her hands together in frustration at her desk as she went through the motions of her daily workload. The goblin-made clockwork in the corner of the jewelry shop ticked with agonizing slowness towards the end of the workday. Upon the chiming of the hour, Ysmine took her belongings and left without saying a word.
Later that evening at the Wayfarer’s Rest, Ysmine sipped from a small glass of wine as she re-read the current page of her book for the fifth time. The noise around her at the bar was only slightly less than the noise out in the square. She gave up after her sixth attempt, and lifted a hand to catch the barkeep’s attention.
“Another please. The same thing.”
As he stepped away, a parchment hanging behind him on the wall caught her eye. She could barely make out the writing from where she was seated:
Mercutio Malache For crimes against Silvermoon...
The barkeep returned with a fresh glass of wine.
“What’s that all about?” Ysmine asked, with a small motion of her hand towards the parchment.
“Oh that? Wanted for questioning I think. About the bombings. Nasty business, that. A lot of good people died in the second one.” He set the fresh glass of wine on the bar in front of her and leaned forward on the bar, resting a single elbow on the wooden surface. “Hey. This is more than you usually drink.”
He chuckled and shifted his position, resting both elbows on the bar. “You usually only order juice. You alright?”
Ysmine chewed her lip as she mulled her situation over. I need help. But will this put him in danger? She lowered her voice. “I...need to get to Dalaran. I’ve never left the city before.”