Elara Trevalyn had been raised in the privileged classes of London society, sheltered from the harsh realities that lurked in the city's darker underbelly.
But after a disastrous series of events left her alone and destitute on the streets, she found herself descending into the squalid warrens of the dockside district - a whole new world governed by its own unwritten rules and dialect.
She hadn't hesitated long after the strange young woman named Nell departed their initial encounter. Despite her deep-seated suspicion of strangers, desperation had quickly overridden Elara's natural caution.
She set off purposefully through the labyrinthine alleys, alert for any potential threats amidst the chaos.
It didn't take long to spot Nell's lithe figure up ahead, pausing occasionally to distribute portions from her basket to the huddled forms dwelling in doorways and side streets.
As Elara approached, Nell looked up, her face breaking into a warm smile that seemed almost jarring amidst their harsh surroundings.
"Well now, didn't reckon I'd be seein' you quite so snappy-like!" Nell's friendly lilt held only the faintest trace of a mocking edge.
"You're a quick study, ain'tcha love? Most chelters new to the dockside bails take a fair spell 'fore they've a mind to go seekin' out ol' Nell's hospitalities."
Elara eyed the street urchin cautiously but resisted retreating into her former defensive posture. "I...have more questions. About what you offered."
Her cultured tones felt brittle amid the cacophony surrounding them.
Nell's smile widened knowingly. "Do ye now? Well just's well, seein' as how tongues'll surely be utterin' about this savvy-looking bird keepin' company with the likkle Samaritan o' Sun'ner Gate."
A slight crease furrowed Elara's brow as she struggled to parse Nell's heavily accented slang. Bird meaning...a young woman? And is Samaritan implying Nell was known for acts of charity in this brutish area called Sun'ner Gate?
Before she could contemplate further, Nell jerked her chin down the narrow alleyway.
"Come along then, duck. Let's get a wiggle on 'fore the dampness start their rowdiedows and kicks up a cadgerban o'er your fit an' bloomers."
Falling into step beside the waifish yet strangely self-assured Nell, Elara was led through a disorienting series of winding passages and cramped courts barely wide enough for two.
The surroundings grew increasingly hostile and derelict with every turn, dilapidated structures seeming to close in oppressively.
At one point, raucous laughter and the smash of bottles ahead prompted Nell to divert them down a foul-smelling side lane scattered with overturned chamber pots and piles of refuse.
Throughout it all, Elara kept her senses keenly honed, catching flickering shapes that seemed to observe their progress from the shadows of alcoves and rookeries.
She glimpsed feral eyes glinting like starved animals and gripped the makeshift glass shard she'd armed herself with earlier, resisting the urge to flourish it in a warning.
The memento of her former life as an aristocrat's daughter felt increasingly out of place in this underworld domain.
Just when the surroundings felt maximally oppressive, they emerged onto a slightly wider street where the structures lining both sides seemed marginally more intact, their weathered brickwork stained but still upright.
A steady warm glow spilled from an open doorway ahead, resolving into the flickering radiance of a hearth fire within as they approached.
Nell turned and shot Elara a conspiratorial wink before pulling open the door, admitting them to a thick fragrance of wood smoke, pipe tobacco, roasting meat and freshly pulled ale.
As Elara crossed the threshold, she found herself abruptly transported into a pocket universe of raucous vitality compressed within these thick oaken walls.
A diverse crowd occupied the high-backed benches and battered trestle tables that ringed a large central hearth.
Some sported the rough, calloused features of dockworkers while others looked to be sailors or crew based on their distinctive garb.
All were engaged in animated discussion, rowdy celebration or silent, focused imbibing of the hearty pub's offerings.
The walls were lined with a fascinating array of maritime artefacts and curios - spyglasses, belaying pins, antique diving helmets, rusted harpoons and spearguns from countless voyages, even framed etchings depicting legendary ships both celebrated and ill-fated.
Each one seemed to hold its own cryptic tales of daring exploration and high seas discovery.
But what dominated the dimly lit taproom even more than the incessant thrum of boisterous chatter was the formidable presence of the statuesque, one-eyed woman standing stern vigil behind the thick plank bar.
Despite her diminutive stature, Nell suddenly seemed to fade into the crowded backdrop next to this imposing figure.
The barkeep had a bearing akin to the figureheads that once adorned the bows of grand sailing ships - hewn of iron-grey timber and exuding an aura that commanded deference from even the rowdiest salts and rogues occupying her territory.
As Elara's eyes adjusted, she couldn't help but shrink slightly from the woman's intense glower.
Nell, however, seemed utterly unperturbed. With a conspiratorial grin, she half-hoisted herself up onto a vacant stool at the bar and gestured for the wide-eyed Elara to follow.
"Mags! Got meself a new frosty 'ere lookin' to slitch up on yer resplendors," she addressed the barkeep with a saucy wink. "Sure you can spare a gabber or two for a once-over, eh?".
The woman's graven features pivoted towards them with glacial deliberation, her one-sighted eye even flintier than the lethal-looking glass shard Elara had pocketed earlier.
She let her lingering assessment of the pale newcomer linger just long enough to make Elara's skin prickle with discomfort before replying.
"Nell brings another stray lamb into the fold, I see." Despite the gruffness of her tone, there was an undercurrent of surprising warmth.
"Very well then...I'll have Juke see to her berthing while I finish settlin' matters out here."
One iron-grey brow arched slightly as her single eye bored into Elara. "Just be sure she's fittin' company for the likes of us, mind."
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