Barca was mucking out the herdbeast pens. It might've surprised some people to see a brownrider doing a chore that was usually handed off to drudges and candidates, but she was going at it with a singular focus. Anyone who came near enough to her could even hear her muttering to herself, catching occasional snippets of phrases like "Who does he think he is?" and "I'll show him 'dirty'".
Taking a break from shoveling herdbeast filth, Barca stood, wiping her forehead. Having straightened, she could see anyone staring at her. "What are you looking at?" she snarled, sneering at them. "Never seen someone mucking out pens, before, or something?"