Publisher's blurb: In the times before my unlikely and pleasant friendship with Grizkh, I roamed the land armed only with my wit and few concoctions. I could hide as the next scrawny wizard, and I did it well. Ruins of Oldport became my obsession. Endless tunnels under the rock and sand and dried-out river. Pillars everywhere, statues of long forgotten heroes turning to dust. Royal palace is still standing tall, housing only danger and luring me into its bowels. I had my wit, but I was never that smart, and always brave. So it happens, I met an equally stubborn companion. It's important to note that you have to get written permission from Sandport's ruler to even come near the ruins. Endless bureaucracy with tons of paper and greasing proper gears wasn't my way. I sneaked into it, risking death penalty on spot. As I investigated near the palace, someone pulled my sleeve and we both lost our ground. We rolled endlessly, ending at the bottom of a huge, ornate door. I looked up, and I was stunned. She was Half-Elf. Bruised, dirty, ragged, but she was the most beautiful creature I've seen. "A little 'Thank you' would suffice. I pulled you right before three dragonborn guards saw your stroll." She smiled and gave me a hand. "Féana, nice to meet you."