The honored guests were the Stuen Rats.
Outsiders thought Annan's alliance with the Ratfolk was a joke. Only those close to him knew how serious he was.
In Annan's eyes, Ratfolk were no different from Elves: anything that could be changed was no flaw at all.
Just look at Maria and Gale, or Miller, whom Broken Fang had sacrificed himself to adopt. They were all Ratfolk, yet none had the flaws people expected of Ratfolk—except that some kept calling Miller shifty. But that was simply how Ratfolk looked, and Miller hadn't accused them of racial prejudice.
Annan wanted others to see no difference between Ratfolk and Elves, too.
But... prejudice did not appear overnight. People of the Northern Frontier did not care whether a Ratfolk was a Stuen Rat or a McKinnon Rat. They were all damned Ratfolk, just as Druids made no distinction between Southlanders and Northerners. To them, all were hateful humans.
The Ratfolk would have to prove themselves, and the Free City People would have to understand.
But it was too early for any of that. Annan and the Stuen Ratfolk had only just made first contact.
In the Outskirts, beyond the Streetlights, a procession of shifting silhouettes emerged from the dark.
Gale walked at its head in a Black Robe, her delicate face exposed. Behind her came two silent ranks of figures, about Annan's height. Cloaks hid them from head to toe, their backs bulging as though they were hunched over.
Annan gave a noble's bow. "Guests of the Stuen Clan, welcome to Free City."
No one in the dark procession answered. Only their raised torches crackled, making them look like a band of heretics.
Gale stepped forward to introduce them. "They're all Ratfolk Artisans carefully selected by the Holy Race."
"Well done." Annan praised her