So, story goes like this.

Frankie's up and about, gets the word that he's got a new job. Fine, cool, kinda expectin' he's going to the palace, then. Nope. Go be a nuisance and get more people at the faire. We ain't got enough customers, his boss says. Why we gotta get customers? Can't we enjoy the downtime, Frankie's responded. Do your job, bossman said, and so he's out here, having trekked through damn Ursa to get to Polaris and standing here like a complete and utter dumbass without spotting a single lick of sentient life.

Okay. Where the hell are all the people, then? He should'a gone to the palace. Shouldn't there be a lotta people 'round this place? Ain't Orion in ruins? Are people still livin' in there? Nah, he's stickin' here, in his blue and cream outfit all put together for travelling through snow. He's glad he's got layers between himself and the golden bells all along his outfit, 'cause that would be skin freezing and he just wouldn't wanna deal with that. But, nah, no more Ursa for a bit, 'less he actually finds a living soul out here.

He'd wandered for a bit, jingle bells ringing with each step. Nothing but a few lessers, and he ain't stupid enough to try to talk to 'em- a deer could probably kick his shit in if he cornered it. He ain't that much taller than 'em, usually. Spire's there, Spire's bright, cool, whatever. Nobody's tryin' to mess with it (or at least from what he could see), and he ain't gonna bother.

So. Where's all the folk? Standing in the midst of an empty cave, Frankie cupped his mouth with his hands and called a brief, "EY!" An ear perked, listening for a response. "YO. PEOPLE ALIVE OUT HERE?"