A New Life Beckons: Kirsten Wilts.

Overcome by the grandeur of the property in which she stood, Kirsten  felt shame at her ragged state-and despised herself for it. Not because she stood amidst such opulence in man's clothing, old and worn, though of stout make, but because she felt such shame at all. She had not been born to wealth. The good boots, dark cloth and, by Ranald yes, even the sword she bore and the brace of throwing knives concealed within the lining of her man's jerkin, had all been earned by the sweat of her brow.

Her fellow gutter waifs would have jeered to see her so dumbstruck by the wealth of one born to his power and position. But she knew one thing: despite the unfairness of it all, despite the fact the price of this man's desk alone could keep half the asylum in black bread and broth for a week or more, she knew she wanted this. Damn the Empire and it's strict class system. She could not change it, but by the God's she could change herself. Oldenhaller's ancestors had been peasants too, by Ranald, before they had become merchants. If others could rise from the mud then so would she. Her peasant background and female sex be damned! She would rise -and rise high- by her own merits. And this over-decorated ass had just provided the means to begin that journey.

She had to exercise a great deal of willpower not to ruffle Harbal's curly hair in her glee.

She did not approve of the loathsome, wicked elf thing presuming to take the lead. Hadn't being pelted by filth shown the monster it's place in this human world? The simple fact of it's alien nature would cause problems -for it, and the others- if they continued to allow it to parade itself around in the open at all, let alone allow the thing to speak for them. She had no desire of being perceived as the lackey of a monster. Yet who else could speak on behalf of the "group", if this rag-tag assemblage befitted such a term? This "Wanda" woman, perhaps? She was high-born (and that pricked at her nerves, she knew) but surely that meant the Fraulein could navigate the maze that was Imperial etiquette far better than any man-eating elf? Why wouldn't the woman speak up, put the creature in it's place? Oldenhaller clearly knew the woman after all. That meant she had more business taking charge of the motley band than a vagrant monster who blithely flaunted his unholy self seemingly everywhere he went.

All too aware of her youth, her social condition, and her sex, Kirsten remained silent. Standing behind the others with her head slightly down. Trying hard not to gape at the magnificence of her surroundings and all the while silently willing Wanda to speak up.