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Daybreak. Probably the fifth or so since she set foot on the shore... for good this time. Her feet hurt, and her sack loaded with stolen funds felt heavier by the minute - but for the first time in a year, she had no one to complain to. It felt kind of fresh at first, but by now, the novelty of solitude was starting to wear off. Not that she cared or anything. "Yeah, great - leave it to the NAVIGATOR to lend me a broken compass." She grumbled down at the expired device, its needle spinning uselessly behind the glass. Chances are it broke in the midst of her rude departure; she just so badly needed someone else to blame right now. For all of it. "... Whatever." Compass flying over her shoulder, she took off in the direction of the sunrise, pursuing a semblance of hopeful - maybe even inspiring - scenery. Someplace sweet, vibrant and nice and far away from the stupid ocean with all the insufferable losers she'd just left behind. No one would miss them. Following the road that had made the most sense to her, the girl soon came upon a humble farmstead, an old watermill and a couple of mountains acting as a backdrop. Idyllic - but not really what she was looking for. A few paces away, an old man was tending to his crops. "Yo," she called out, approaching him with a huff. "What's down this road?" Pausing his work, he glanced up from his admirable hunch. His tired old man-eyes immediately drifted to her bag. "Looking to get robbed, are you?" She scoffed and adjusted the bag, suddenly inclined to hide it behind her back, albeit to little success. "So what if I am?! Y'gonna tell me, or what?" The man pulled at the corner of his mouth - not quite a smile. "Chang'an." "Eh?" "About twenty miles yonder, over the hill..." He continued. "...They call it the 'million-man city'." Her eyes lit up. "Million..." She'd been to her fair share of port towns and markets - especially during her recent stint in piracy. But a city of one million? As unreal as it sounded in the moment, she'd take anything over another drop of salt water. Besides; with a name like that, it had to have an equal number of opportunities to match. She hefted up the money bag, eyes set on the trail ahead. Unbothered by her demeanour, the old farmer merely shrugged as he watched the sassy vagabond pick up her stride. "Little girl like you... They'll chew ya right up, don'tcha know?" "Psh! I can handle myself, see?" Brine barked out her response, otherwise preoccupied with bigger, more important things - such as rehearsing future uses for the word "jackpot". | |