Forgotten Clutch

**Forgotten Clutch** is a random encounter in *Tales from the Tiers*.

## Transcript

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At the end of the road, a small child crouches next to an abandoned wagon, rummaging through its contents. From afar she resembles a bedraggled urchin, smirking face lined with dirt, her tunic torn and thoroughly stained. She spots your approach and lets out a small yelp, sprinting off into a copse of trees and vanishing from view.

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Follow the girl.

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Ignore the child and move on.

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You decide to press on, unconcerned with the child's whereabouts. As you pass by the wagon, you see that it has been thoroughly-stripped of its contents - a few heads of rotting cabbage and some potatoes picked apart by field mice are all that remain. The child will need much more than that to last the season.

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You follow the child as she weaves between the trees until the forest gives way to the open fields of a small farmstead, empty from the last harvest. The girl leads you across the grounds, past two empty houses and a row of clay beehives, eventually racing into an open barn. As you enter after her, you see a clutch of children huddled in the rear, trembling as you approach. There are six in all, gaunt faces and tired eyes shared amongst them all. One boy drops a small knife as you approach, letting it vanish within the folds of straw at his feet.

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The children swear they are alone, claiming to be orphans from a massacred village. They fled during the fighting and retreated to this farmstead. Its owners, they claim, slain by Kyros forces. The barn is full of harvested rye and a few jars of stored honey, no doubt the reasons why these children are still alive.

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Ask about the empty cart on the road.

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Leave the children food and rings.

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Order the children into service with the Chorus.

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Send them to work for the Disfavored.

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Send them to train as spies for Tunon's Court.

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Burn down the farmstead.

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Leave the children behind.

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Some of the children exchange concerned glances before the little girl you trailed speaks up. Her voice wavers and she blurts out a stammering explanation - the cart was likely used by a traveling merchant and abandoned once soldiers clashed in the nearby area. Her eyes flick to the ground for a brief moment, long enough for you to follow its gaze to a leather boot barely visible between tied bundles of standing straw. You push past them and kick aside the bundles, revealing the corpse of a middle-aged man with multiple puncture wounds in his neck and back.

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The children gasp at the revelation, and some begin to cry. The young girl pleads innocence, claiming that the man discovered the farm and attacked her, pinning her in the straw before her friends returned and stabbed him to death. She begs you to believe her.

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The stored supplies will last the children another season, but not much beyond that. You open your pack and hand the children a few pieces of cured meat and, more importantly, some rings, advising them to find a nearby settlement and seek out care. The group is grateful, but cautious, not budging from their protective cluster until you step out of the barn.

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The farmstead isn't very visible from the main road, but trails leading to it, marked by worn brush and flattened grasses, will be spotted by other travelers. The orphans cannot hide for long.

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In all likelihood, these children will die without a guiding hand. You pen a letter with instructions for any Chorus patrol or garrison to accept them as camp workers, for eventual conscription when they come of age. The life of a child in the Chorus isn't easy, but Nerat's threadbare laws demand that children be honored and cherished - making life in the Chorus marginally safer than life in the wilderness.

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There is no gratitude in their eyes as you hand them the rolled parchment and instruct them to seek the Chorus. If they have any sense, they'll take your advice before someone worse happens upon this farmstead.

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These children have been displaced, but may find purpose in service of the Disfavored. You pen a missive to the Disfavored and order the children to wait for the next Disfavored patrol, at which point, the children will be put to strenuous labor that no child is ready to endure, but they will be fed.

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The young survivors are apprehensive - some nod hopefully, while others remain silent, unsure how to react. It's unclear whether or not they'll follow your directives, but doing so would be to their benefit... they face far graver threats here, alone.

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Though mere children, the scamps are tenacious and clever - requirements for survival out here, alone - and may be of use in Tunon's Court. Left to their own devices, they will almost certainly die in time. You pen a declaration: the children are to be evaluated by the Court's Fatebinders for possible service, and should they be found lacking, assigned to local tradesmen as best suits the needs of the city.

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The journey won't be easy, you caution, but it is necessary if they want to survive past the next season. The young girl takes the parchment and thanks you, though the rest of the children look unsure of the matter. You collect some grain and honey for yourself and exit the barn, leaving them to contemplate their fate.

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The orphans' story may or may not be true, but what is certain is that they killed a man, took his goods, and now squat in his farmstead - such crimes cannot be ignored. With weapons drawn, you command the children to flee the farmstead on pain of death. You retrieve flint and jasper from a pouch and, after a few precise strikes, set the barn straw alight. The building is soon engulfed in flame, its contents fuel for the warning you've created.

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You move from one field to the next, until the entire area has been engulfed in flame. The children holler in the distance, cries of confusion and fear echoing across the farmstead. By the time you have reached the main road, they have fallen silent.

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The orphans are of little concern to you, not something worth a lengthy distraction. While they cower in the center of the barn, you gather some grain and honey for the journey ahead and move towards the exit, telling the children that their situation isn't one you have the time to address. You can feel their confused eyes upon you as you leave the building. A young boy runs outside and shouts after you, wanting to know what will become of them. You continue on past the empty fields, ignoring his repeated calls.

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There is no assurance you can give him. The grain will feed them for the remainder of the season, but that is the least of the children's worries - the farmstead will be discovered by other, hungrier, and less merciful travelers.

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They watch wordlessly as you take a small amount of grain and honey for your personal use, still huddled together when you leave the barn.

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They watch wordlessly as you take a small amount of grain and honey for your personal use, still huddled together when you leave the barn.

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