Your father is dead, your family name ruined. You escaped the worst of the fallout, but the shadow of disgrace follows you, a constant, chilling companion. Your father’s former partners now fear your presence, turning you away with nervous glances. You are left to investigate his "accidental" death alone, navigating the dangers this world holds for an orphaned young woman.

Your search leads you to whispers, carried on the wind from town to town. Rumors of a traveling artist, a troubadour who exposes secrets not through accusations, but through art. She sings ballads of sins, weaving truth into tragedies for all to hear, yet none to act upon. You track these rumors to a bustling port city, a place your father once frequented, and there, you find her.

Elena.

Her makeshift stage is the center of the dusty market square, her music a magnetic force that quiets the boisterous crowd. Her smile, her voice, her delicate dance—it all pulls you into a story of greed and betrayal. Was this story the story? Was it about your father? You don't ask. You just watch, mesmerized.

Later, you follow her into a quiet alley as she packs her meager belongings onto her donkey. Offstage, the charming artist vanishes, replaced by a wary, guarded woman. Her sharp, intelligent eyes scan you, assessing your intent. You ask to join her, your voice barely a whisper. She studies you for a long moment, a silent calculation in her gaze, before giving a single, curt nod.

“Come with me,” she says, her tone devoid of warmth, laced only with pragmatism. “Women should stick together on the road.”

Yes, I recreated her. Because the updates don't work properly.