Then.
“There’s a place,†Daena whispered to him once. The two of them were exhausted and drained and beaten down, and they spoke quietly when they settled in their makeshift shelters out among the crags and the rocks. What had been a map scrawled haphazardly on Hroch’s one and only shirt had become a mess of circles and crosses. The Castrum gave them Roen Deneith’s father and an astounding number of possibilities. It was no secret that Garleans maintained a presence in Thanalan, but they were unprepared for just how many places they had secreted beneath the Ul’dah’s very nose.
Hroch Greyarm had grown up around strong people but what strength he did take from them was failing him rapidly. If it was not for Daena Ghurn, he might have given up. Every door she kicked down took its toll, and every empty shack and cave left him wearier and wearier than before. They had raised alarms going into the Castrum and it seemed as if its claws had all been pulled back to the fortress by the sea, but they would not stay drawn out of Thanalan for long.
Suns after they pulled out of Vesper Bay, they lay in the cold and the dark. “We need help,†Daena said to him softly. Her own reserves were dwindling and he could not blame her for it. “There’s a place. My pa used tae speak o’ it...â€
Settling into Little Ala Mhigo had not been easy. Aylard had spoken his fair share of harsh words and Hroch could not help but ponder them as well. Huddling in the caves, fighting for every scrap of food and drink rather than for the city they had fled; it pained him to see his kin that way as much as it filled him with shame. Many men looked at him with cold eyes. If they knew of his father, they held their tongues. That Daena Ghurn was never too far away and never too shy to give anyone who thought they could push them around a piece of her mind was a blessing. If it was not for her, Hroch did not know where he would be.
There was little that could be spared but Daena made sure they were given a tent at the very least. It was small and it could not stand without the help of the cracked and dusty crates and barrels that they managed to salvage from a passing merchant wagon, but it was theirs. Now and again he caught himself just grinning at Daena Ghurn like the fool he was.
That was before Roen found them.
“I am… sorry.â€
There was a box in her hands. Her knuckles were white as ghosts. She did not meet their eyes - his eyes.
“I am so sorry...â€
The box was in his hands.
Aylard Greyarm was dead.
---------
Now.
The first thing he noticed was that his belly ached almost as badly as his head.
The second was the smell: it was not the musty, earthy odor of the caves they had made their home. There was stone and there was dust and the lingering scent of blood, but it was not Little Ala Mhigo.
“Daena?†he croaked, squinting and scrabbling for… bars? Were those bars?
“Daena? Where in th’ hells--â€
His hands planted against them and his fingers wrapped around them and that is when he noticed the bandages around his left hand. That was disconcerting enough in itself as he did not remember getting into a scuffle. He had been keeping watch over their tent while Daena was away. The people of Little Ala Mhigo were honest and they did not steal; if no one saw the thief then no one could be justly blamed, yet it still happened to those who were not careful. It was only supposed to be a few bells, and then…
… then the woman came. She called herself Tilda Blackdale. Cloudy thoughts buzzed and throbbed. He gave her his flask and she gave her an ivory brush to pass on to Daena. “If ye’d be willin,†she said, “I wanna give ye something from th’ city I brought. It’s nae much, but when I left the city t’was all ah had left.â€
Her hair was red and her sword hand was strong. She smiled at him easily as she passed him back his flask. “S’almost gone anyway. Might as well finish it.â€
Hroch hardly registered the round and unsettled face of the lalafell standing guard just on the other, much less the hushed tones with which he spoke into the linkpearl in his ear. He stared at his hand and the startling asymmetry that had taken to it, for where he should have had four fingers and his thumb peeking out from the bandage that had been set around it, he was shy a whole two.
---------
The guard could tell him nothing useful. He knew of no Tilda Blackdale nor of Daena Ghurn and after several bells of begging and pleading he settled into an uncomfortable silence. He was just a Flame, he insisted. He didn’t know anything.
When the bells stretched out over a whole sun, Hroch could find no more reason to try. A dried smear of blood was on the floor and a line stretched to where he had been propped up against a wall when he first woke in that place. He squeezed himself in a corner opposite it, drew himself into a ball, and wept into his knees.
There was little Hroch Greyarm had wanted more than peace. Losing his father struck him hard and he tried to pick up where Aylard had left off. He had his father’s name to back him and a few of his contacts but almost none of the iron strength that had made his father a leader. He had heard others whisper among themselves that he had been too soft on Hroch, his only son. He met the eyes of people around him and thought they looked pitying.
If it were not for Daena…
He did not know what day or time it was when finally the door to his cell was opened. He looked at none of them as they pulled him up to his feet and pulled him out into the sunlight. Shaelen Stormchild was waiting but he did not look at her, either.
It was not the first time that Hroch Greyarm did not know what to do, but it was the first that that he could not find his voice through the terror that clenched at his heart.
“There’s a place,†Daena whispered to him once. The two of them were exhausted and drained and beaten down, and they spoke quietly when they settled in their makeshift shelters out among the crags and the rocks. What had been a map scrawled haphazardly on Hroch’s one and only shirt had become a mess of circles and crosses. The Castrum gave them Roen Deneith’s father and an astounding number of possibilities. It was no secret that Garleans maintained a presence in Thanalan, but they were unprepared for just how many places they had secreted beneath the Ul’dah’s very nose.
Hroch Greyarm had grown up around strong people but what strength he did take from them was failing him rapidly. If it was not for Daena Ghurn, he might have given up. Every door she kicked down took its toll, and every empty shack and cave left him wearier and wearier than before. They had raised alarms going into the Castrum and it seemed as if its claws had all been pulled back to the fortress by the sea, but they would not stay drawn out of Thanalan for long.
Suns after they pulled out of Vesper Bay, they lay in the cold and the dark. “We need help,†Daena said to him softly. Her own reserves were dwindling and he could not blame her for it. “There’s a place. My pa used tae speak o’ it...â€
Settling into Little Ala Mhigo had not been easy. Aylard had spoken his fair share of harsh words and Hroch could not help but ponder them as well. Huddling in the caves, fighting for every scrap of food and drink rather than for the city they had fled; it pained him to see his kin that way as much as it filled him with shame. Many men looked at him with cold eyes. If they knew of his father, they held their tongues. That Daena Ghurn was never too far away and never too shy to give anyone who thought they could push them around a piece of her mind was a blessing. If it was not for her, Hroch did not know where he would be.
There was little that could be spared but Daena made sure they were given a tent at the very least. It was small and it could not stand without the help of the cracked and dusty crates and barrels that they managed to salvage from a passing merchant wagon, but it was theirs. Now and again he caught himself just grinning at Daena Ghurn like the fool he was.
That was before Roen found them.
“I am… sorry.â€
There was a box in her hands. Her knuckles were white as ghosts. She did not meet their eyes - his eyes.
“I am so sorry...â€
The box was in his hands.
Aylard Greyarm was dead.
---------
Now.
The first thing he noticed was that his belly ached almost as badly as his head.
The second was the smell: it was not the musty, earthy odor of the caves they had made their home. There was stone and there was dust and the lingering scent of blood, but it was not Little Ala Mhigo.
“Daena?†he croaked, squinting and scrabbling for… bars? Were those bars?
“Daena? Where in th’ hells--â€
His hands planted against them and his fingers wrapped around them and that is when he noticed the bandages around his left hand. That was disconcerting enough in itself as he did not remember getting into a scuffle. He had been keeping watch over their tent while Daena was away. The people of Little Ala Mhigo were honest and they did not steal; if no one saw the thief then no one could be justly blamed, yet it still happened to those who were not careful. It was only supposed to be a few bells, and then…
… then the woman came. She called herself Tilda Blackdale. Cloudy thoughts buzzed and throbbed. He gave her his flask and she gave her an ivory brush to pass on to Daena. “If ye’d be willin,†she said, “I wanna give ye something from th’ city I brought. It’s nae much, but when I left the city t’was all ah had left.â€
Her hair was red and her sword hand was strong. She smiled at him easily as she passed him back his flask. “S’almost gone anyway. Might as well finish it.â€
Hroch hardly registered the round and unsettled face of the lalafell standing guard just on the other, much less the hushed tones with which he spoke into the linkpearl in his ear. He stared at his hand and the startling asymmetry that had taken to it, for where he should have had four fingers and his thumb peeking out from the bandage that had been set around it, he was shy a whole two.
---------
The guard could tell him nothing useful. He knew of no Tilda Blackdale nor of Daena Ghurn and after several bells of begging and pleading he settled into an uncomfortable silence. He was just a Flame, he insisted. He didn’t know anything.
When the bells stretched out over a whole sun, Hroch could find no more reason to try. A dried smear of blood was on the floor and a line stretched to where he had been propped up against a wall when he first woke in that place. He squeezed himself in a corner opposite it, drew himself into a ball, and wept into his knees.
There was little Hroch Greyarm had wanted more than peace. Losing his father struck him hard and he tried to pick up where Aylard had left off. He had his father’s name to back him and a few of his contacts but almost none of the iron strength that had made his father a leader. He had heard others whisper among themselves that he had been too soft on Hroch, his only son. He met the eyes of people around him and thought they looked pitying.
If it were not for Daena…
He did not know what day or time it was when finally the door to his cell was opened. He looked at none of them as they pulled him up to his feet and pulled him out into the sunlight. Shaelen Stormchild was waiting but he did not look at her, either.
It was not the first time that Hroch Greyarm did not know what to do, but it was the first that that he could not find his voice through the terror that clenched at his heart.
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