The scout traveled with the delegation and did not have the delegate's manners.
He found Maren on the demonstration floor mid-morning, and he found her with an audience, which Soren understood a beat too late was the point.
"So this is the charity class," the scout said.
He said it loud enough to carry.
Maren was still raw.
Soren could see it from across the floor, the thing the delegate had opened in her the night before, the hole with no bottom she'd carried home and slept on and woken up still holding.
The scout had no way to know that.
He only knew he'd been told Class Z was the soft spot in the roster and he'd come to press on it and see what it did.
"I heard the fire's a party trick," the scout said. "Pretty. Warm. Nothing you'd want at your back in a real fight."
Maren wiped her hands on her apron.
"You want to see it at your back?"
The scout smiled, because he'd gotten exactly the rise he'd come for.
