<em>Storytelling</em><br/><br/>Mother Freya<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/6D60Uq7.jpg)</div><br/>The Slums weren't a true battlefield. There was no true fighting between the factions. The lines were mixed and always shifting. And yet, Kieri knew that, with a word, the woman now standing next to her could, with a word, ensure that entire areas of the Slums would be cut off from the project that was now under development. And she knew, too, that despite how inoffensive Mother Freya tired to appear, the deep shadows, the ones with extra mass, many of them were around. Not all of them were under her control.<br/><br/>Kieri took the offered basket. "A goblin never refuses food," she said. "I take this, but I will not take your Aros. We have ours own gods. Our own ways. You give food, yes. But only in churches." She took a few steps away and placed the basket down, tearing off a piece of bread before returning. As with everything, it would be taken and it would be used, down to the basket. No waste. The people of the Slums could ill afford to waste anything. "This food will be eaten, yes, but tomorrow, these people will be hungry again. And with your food, you will feed them your Aros. But tomorrow, too..." She waved to the scene spread before them. "Tomorrow, the streets will be clean and the people will know that they have done it. That they have done good work, important work that made their lives better. And they can do it once, they can do it again. They were not ordered. They only needed a little push. A few pushes, maybe, in the right places, to understand." She looked up and frowned at Freya. "This will spread. I made sure of that. Even to those you call your flock, if you let it. Their hands and minds and efforts will be appreciated, but even more if they come because they chose to, than because you told them to."