Hazir

"Ooh, tinkering," Hazir says, and quickly finishes his morning meal.

He gets up from the earthy, damp ground and goes to the tent he'd slept in. He stands in front of the structure stroking his beard and squinting, thinking about the easiest, quickest most efficient way of dismantling and packing the tent.

In a matter of minutes, the tent is a neat small roll.

"Do I get to keep this, Thakran? Sir Gent?"