Lord of the Bugs (A Trashling Tale)

Nobody talks about us much. The troubadours sing about Mouse-herders, but Mouse-herders buy their ale. The Children preach the virtues of the Farmers' life, but Farmers make up most of their flock.

We purvey protein to the most desperate. Grubs, worms, beetles, flies. Did you know the flavor of cockroach steaks depends on the beast's fodder?

Trashlings of every tribe have eaten in my shop. Penurious Tinkers, traveling Coggers, absent-minded Scribes and mendicant Children of the Makers. Farmers returning from a poor night at the market, and yes, even Mouse-herders.

Those-Who-Burn eat here often. They say turnabout is only fair.