"Help doing what, exactly?" Orren asks, stepping forward from the crowd, arms folded across his stomach and into the sleeves of his robe. His tone is diplomatic enough - there's some force behind his words, but no hostility at present.

"You've made your displeasure, to put it mildly, with the city and the Head in charge of it abundantly clear, but you've yet to tell us anything about what it is that you're after." He continues. "Or what you want of us, for that matter."