Character

Starter

The morning mist still clung to the cobbled streets of Früst, curling between the boot heels of early risers and curling over the wrought iron railings that lined the narrow alleyways. The clatter of hooves in the distance mixed with the distant hiss of steam vents and the occasional bark of a newspaper boy hawking the latest edition of the Früst Tagblatt.

Petra Freyta moved briskly, her heavy satchel swinging at her side. Dressed in a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal the metallic sheen of her prosthetic arms, and brown working trousers tucked into worn leather boots, she made a sharp figure amidst the grey tones of the city. Her breath fogged slightly in the chill air, but her pace never slowed.

With practiced rhythm, she approached stoops and shopfronts, slipping letters through brass slots or placing brown-paper-wrapped packages on benches with swift efficiency. Her movements were quiet, deliberate. Few words were exchanged; most folks in Früst knew Petra by now, and she preferred it that way.

She paused at the corner where the main street sloped gently toward the canals. Ahead, just past an old bookbinder's, a cluttered façade came into view, the workshop. Chimney smoke curled lazily from the vent, and the dull clang of a hammer could be heard inside. Petra adjusted her satchel, plucked a small parcel wrapped in oilskin from its depths, and stepped toward the door.

She knocked twice with the back of her steel knuckles.

“Post,” she called, her voice firm but low. “Workshop delivery.”

A soft rattle came from within.

She stood there for a moment, framed by the morning light, metal fingers flexing subtly as she waited for the door to open. Looking at the next letter she was going to be dropping off next door.