the flag flapping in the wind catches her eye. Over the top of the crest is a phrase, perhaps the motto for the city.
May Mercy Ever Find A Home Here
“M-Mercy,” the woman says quickly, aware of the men’s scrutiny.
Mercy, repeats the entity in her head. A fine a name as any. It will do you credit.
“Mercy, aye?” Says the old guard. “Mercy what?”
“May,” says the woman promptly. “Mercy May.”
It says something about the Pale City that neither man seem to take note of the uncanny similarity their guest’s name has to the words sewn