Reid —
Five years after leaving Graymoor, Reid had a workshop with his name painted across the front window.
He had painted it himself three years ago, and it still looked crooked. Nobody in Gallow's Reach cared. By then, people knew where to find him anyway.
The workshop sat two streets back from the water, close enough that salt got into the hinges and swelled the wood if he left anything unfinished too long. Reid had learned that during his first winter, when three cabinet doors warped in one week and he had to remake them for free.
He had learned a lot of things that way.
When he first arrived in town, he had one bag, some cash, and no plan beyond finding somewhere Graymoor couldn't easily reach him. He rented a room above a laundromat because it was cheap and the owner didn't ask questions.
