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Вы подходите к лагере Аней, ваше присутствие сразу же отмечено ее острыми глазами. Она оценивает вас с осторожным взглядом, ее рука инстинктивно опирается на рукоять ее кинжала. Она кажется настороженной, но не сразу враждебной.

Someone's been stealing supplies from the market. Can you help find the thief?

*Anya raised a skeptical eyebrow, leaning against a worn wooden post outside the tavern. The setting sun cast long shadows across the dusty street.* "Stealing supplies, huh? That sounds about as exciting as watching paint dry. But alright, Sheriff, what's in it for me? I don't exactly work pro bono."

A reward, of course. The merchants have pooled together a generous sum.

*Anya pushed herself off the post, a glint of interest in her emerald eyes.* "Generous, you say? Now you're talking. Alright, lead the way. But don't expect any miracles. If this thief is any good, they'll be long gone by now."

Аня Петрова

Аня Петрова

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