Starke is the name of this town and its name suits it very well. The walls have never been rebuilt after the War of the Cross and the gates are still cast down and pushed to the side of the muddy track that now passes for an entrance road. With the exception of the city guard and the Musketeers, most of the citizens went about their business with their heads down and a shuffle in their gait. This is a beaten, war-weary populace.

She had seen several musketeers since her arrival in early evening but felt no desire to join up with her countrymen. She had even seen a few of her former crewmates but avoided them as well. Musketeers, guardsmen and crewmen alike are currently searching the town for the saboteurs who blew up the War Eagle; the criminals that du Chevalier pursued from Manche aboard the ill-fated ship.

She has heard bits and pieces of news concerning the criminals. They had fought several skirmishes with the forces of the law and are said to still be at large for the most part, though she had heard that one or two have been caught. While she would like to see them brought to justice for their crimes, she feels that they are no longer her concern. After all, her mysterious benefactor told her that she was starting a "new life" and somehow she felt that this new beginning didn't include taking any more orders from du Chevalier or anyone for that matter.

Let them believe she died in the blast.

She had no one at home who would be overly concerned. To Legion with the Le Emperour and his tax collectors! Her last will and testament would cover her back taxes and any outstanding debts.

Somewhere in the distance a bell struck the midnight hour. The streets now seem a bit more settled so she stepped carefully out of the alleyway. She set off in the direction of an inn she had seen some guardsmen searching earlier in the evening. Maybe she will have that warm bed after all.

Waking surprisingly early, Jeane dressed and made her way downstairs to the common room. The bed she slept in had been a musty, none-too-clean straw pallet but had felt like a feather mattress after so many days spent either on a ship or on the cold, wet ground.

The innkeeper, Johan, had initially been suspicious and mildly angry when awakened so late. But when he saw that she was indeed a customer and not a guardsman or a Musketeer, he had cheered up considerably and invited her in. He'd had no guests in a very long while. No one, it seems, had been traveling to Starke much since the War and most of the inns in town were closed until travel picked up if not closed permanently.

The innkeeper was only too happy to take her silver broach as payment for two nights lodging plus meals. The way he croaked over it when she handed it to him made her think that he had gotten the better by far. It is of no matter, she had thought. That broach belongs to another person in another life.

She had signed the register "Joan du Muguet". It was time to leave her old name behind as well.

Greeting the innkeeper, his wife Brigitte and their 3 children, she sat down at the place set for her at their table. There were, of course, no other guests so she was invited to eat with them. The meal consisted mostly of a watery but surprisingly tasty soup and some grainy bread. The children (two boys and a girl) were all under the age of ten and shot questions at her in volleys like a Montaigne musketeer squad:

"Where are you from?" from the little girl who seemed the oldest.

"I am from Muguet in Montaigne."

"Why are you here? Are you one of the criminals that the Montaigne captain is looking for?" the younger boy asked, his eyes sly.

"I am here looking for work on a ship. No, I am not a criminal; I am a simple sailor..." She smiled at them to show she wasn't insulted by the question.

Johan had finished his meal and leaned back in his chair, making no move to stop his children's questions, an amused look on his face. His wife, shaking her head, got up and began to clear the table.

As the children continued their questions, Johan rolled two cigarettes and handed one to "Joan". She raised a questioning eyebrow at the "tobacco" but Johan just shook his head sadly. Once she lit the cigarette she understood why; it was heavily cut with other more common, less expensive (and less tasty) herbs and had very little real tobacco. Even so she was grateful, knowing full well that even this little bit of tobacco must be worth a fortune here.

After answering a few more questions she excused herself, much to the disappointment of the children. Telling Johan she would be back in time for lunch, she set off towards the docks, hoping to find some working passage back to Montaigne. Her plan from there was to find a bigger, deep seas ship and see some more of the world.

Hopefully she would find something by tomorrow because otherwise she would be on the streets again but this time penniless and hopeless. Her "benefactor" has said she would have a new life. She now realized that he hadn't said anything about it being easy...