I reached another of Briggsy’s nests to find it empty, or so I thought at first. That was when I heard the cries for help. His shouting led me to a scrawny little man, whose head fell some way short of my shoulder, mewling from inside a barrel. Having climbed inside when Briggsy and her crew arrived, he had spent the night cowering in his keg, only to find the lid stuck fast. I released him in exchanged for what little coin he had, and he was only too happy to reveal Briggsy’s heading: Wanderer’s Refuge.