"Can you front a few Sovereigns for a P.O. box for a year?"

One of the doctors digs a 10-Sovereign coin out of his pocket and flips it to Lucy. "We're saving at least that much on medicine alone."

"The post office is just down the street," the officer says.

"Cool, thanks." 

She goes down the street to the post office to arrange a P.O box. 

The Reckless Chronicler follows, whistling off-key. She can get a P.O. box. The officer shoos away a loud reporter.

(There are some people in the street who seem... Tackety-ish. Something about their posture and clothes. And there's also some people in Windward Company uniforms, trying to push towards the hospital and being argued with by more New Winchester police.)

Ohhh dear. 

She emerges from the post office and surveys the scene. 

She strides up to the nearest person in WC uniform and taps them on the shoulder. 

A tense-looking man nervously scanning the street for threats asks, "What?"

His boss in the center of the group, a scowling woman with a fancy hat, turns and immediately says, "You look unusual, do you know what the devil is going on here?"

"If you're talking about the enormous glow, that was me." 

Blink. "Yes. The Windward Company has an interest in intelligence on unusual events, and an interest in ensuring New Winchester remains... Unperturbed. We'd be quite appreciative if you would come by the Company House for a chat. We pay for information."

Shrug. "If you're paying, I guess I have no reason not to."

"I do appreciate it. Let's go back, lads."

The Tacketies in the crowd move to block the group. A sharp-eyed man steps out in front. "Valerie, you know we're sharing this town, right? There was a treaty and everything."

"I'm not sure what you're implying," Valerie replies icily.

"We both wanna know what's going on here, and we both know she's central to it, right? I think we both know the general story already, so why drag her off?"

"An interview in a private setting is hardly anything nefarious. Are you going to prevent us from travelling around the city, Tackety? Your gang of thugs here to intimidate us from investigating trouble in our very backyard?"

"Here to stop you from unilaterally dragging off a person of interest and interfering in the city, Stovepipe."

"Well, we're not doing that. We offered to pay her for information. Right, miss?"

"...I will happily talk to you after? They did offer me money, so I think they get to go first. If they try holding me against my will it won't end well for them." 

"Rewards for information are tied to an agreement of nondisclosure," the Windward Company officer bites out.

"We'll pay you for interesting things you don't tell the Stovepipes," the Tackety guy offers.

"Okay, both of you, stop. I am not agreeing to not tell people things about myself! I am terrible at keeping secrets, and I can mostly do it when it's other people's secrets but I will not promise to keep secrets about myself." 

The two sides break off staring tensely at each other.

"-The usual custom for port reports doesn't really apply here I suppose."

"You're really frightening, you know that?" The Tackety asks Lucy. "Heal a hospital full of people in an instant, that kind of thing turns wars. Which side are you gonna pick, freedom and independence or the Establishment's bootlickers? Neither? Both, for profiteering?"

"Bootlickers! Bold words from a glorified band of pirates-"

"Okay, stop, again. I do not profiteer. I heal people. I find people who are hurting people and I make them cut that shit out. I will accept help from terrible people when their interests align with mine to the point of helping me do one of these things, and then I turn around and try really hard to incentivize them into not being terrible anymore, and I will use the carrot or the stick. I do not believe in people deserving to die, or suffer. If you guys start shooting each other I will raise you all from the dead and yell at you." 

At the mention of shooting some of them twitch, but-

"Be a waste of ammo, then." The Tackety sneers.

"It is my considered opinion that we should both return to our respective establishments without any further... Fuss."

"Yeah, you do that."

The Windward Company officer gnashes her teeth, then sets her troops to a jog. The Tacketies nod, satisfied, and put away their guns and mill around. A reporter takes a picture with a big camera on a stand he set up very quickly, somehow, and asks Lucy for comments.

"People should be kind to one another." 

"And you're planning to stay neutral in the Winchester War?"

"I'm planning to learn more before deciding whether or not to involve myself."

"Roight. Look forward to tomorrow's edition of the Gazette!" He shouts to the crowd, bundling up his camera and running off with a smile.

The Reckless Chronicler is still here. He offers Lucy a porcelain cup of hot tea from a nearby cafe. "Exciting stuff, no?"

She takes the cup and sips gratefully. "Exceedingly. Not my favorite kind of exciting at all. What's that symbol you wanted translated? I like advancing the collective knowledge of mankind so much better than having to yell at people with guns."

He opens up a notebook to a page with nothing on it except the one sigil, which has blackened the surrounding paper slightly. "This one is on an obelisk close to the fungal wastes and there's very little body of material to help figure out the meaning. Quite the puzzle. I've seen it translated as both A commingling of radiances and Record of the acceptance of a bargain."

...She taps her lip. "So, the thing about Correspondence symbols is, they can go down to almost arbitrary levels of detail and context. If I wasn't trying to be concise or poetic, I would translate this in English as, hm, 'marker to remind of a compromise which ends a problem or solves a conflict, in a manner which resembles the compromise of two Judgments shining equally on the same place.' But I wouldn't say that captures all of it either, necessarily; 'marker' isn't quite right exactly, it's more like 'contract' in a way, something that holds the parties involved to the agreement, something that you can't casually disregard."

He is writing everything she says down in another notebook. "The power of Correspondence to actually affect the world has always struck me as beautiful. They say a truly great poem can change the world, which is mostly nonsense, but in Correspondence..."

Giggle. "It doesn't really need to be poetic though. I mean I appreciate the sentiment, but." 

"I am the kind of person who seeks poetry, whatever else I'm doing. I must ask, what is it like to actually speak a word of fire?"