Life in the city of Skeilmer was spent in constant chatter of the royal family that ruled over it.
And as the princess' ears, it was Bast's job to look into rumours, because most often the things that were kept from Princess Qinn, somehow did manage to get through to the common folk.
Gulping down another jar of the cheap beer, Bast pulled up a chair to the table of a few big burly men, some of whom she recognised as the Queen's guards.
"I hear that some brave royalty was ambushed by a pair of the purple panthers and that he slaughtered them on his own", she said holding up her jar as the waitress filled it up.
"Pff, as if. He pissed his royal pants and barely escaped them. Don't ask how I know. The panthers are still roaming those parts of the enchanted forest I hear, " the bald one said.
"What about the royal blood draws this creatures though?". He turned to one of the guards.
"There's a legend. Only known among the royal family itself. Often told to their kids as a bedtime story," one of the guards began. "When man still was the newest creation of the Elder elves, and had begun growing in numbers rapidly, a portion of this creation were alloted abilities only they could use. Abilities that set them up apart from the rest of mankind and they were then made rulers over this species. Although some of these special people chose to live simple lives and became craftsmen."
"I've heard that one before," one of the men spoke swallowing a chunk of bread, "Infact, quite a few people know that, except, there's no such thing as Elder elves. There's only elves, and it was God who bestowed those powers."
'That was what they want the common folk to believe,' Bast thought to herself. And seeing their discussion now taking off into more legends and stories that were obviously fairy tales, she left the tavern. Heading off into a ramshackled hut that had a tunnel underneath which only she had access too. This hut was her home.
Atleast for the common folk who knew her, this was where she lived.