"There. How does that feel?"
The Highlander child looked back up at her, his dark skin starkly offsetting sky-blue eyes which shone brightly under the Thanalan sun. He could have been no older than six cycles, and yet there was already a hint of keen wisdom in his eyes--a wisdom born from the hard life of a refugee. He inspected his arm where the cut had been, his small lips pursed in scrutiny. When he turned back to her, he bore her a bright smile. “All better!â€
“See, Sayer? There was nothing to be scared of.†Roen grinned back at him, her hand lightly playing with the beads that were woven onto the ends of his blonde braided locks. Even in poverty, the Ala Mhigans took painstaking care to display their heritage proudly. Sayer was a malnutritioned, nearly emaciated boy, but none would ever mistake him for anything else than a child of Ala Mhigo. And perhaps it was because of that proud and stubborn heritage that Roen had been able to goad him into letting her use conjury on his infected cut, despite his distrusting nature of magic. It also helped that he knew her from her days of patrolling through the camps as a Brass Blade, when she came upon him being bullied by older bigger children. They ran as soon as they spotted her, and she had made a friend that day when she shared her lunch with the small child.
“I said I wasn’t scared,†Sayer reminded her quickly, his face scrunching up with protest. He hopped down from the box they were both seated upon and held up two fists, bouncing lightly on his feet. “I’ve been gettin’ better! And now those boys come at me, I’ll be ready fer ‘em!†He threw a couple of air punches in her direction and showed off his fiercest look.
Roen laughed and held up her hands. “I surrender!†When Sayer paused with a beaming smile, she reached into her satchel and withdrew a wrapped package. “Here is some dried meat and an orange, fresh from La Noscea!â€
Sayer’s blue eyes went wide as saucers as he snatched the package from her hand. He peeked inside the cloth wrapping to make sure of the contents within -- suspicious boy he was -- before he blinked back at Roen. “For me? And ma?â€
Roen nodded. “Aye, go share with your ma.†She watched with a contented sigh when the boy scampered off, eager to show his new prize to his mother. Roen’s smile slowly faded as the small figure disappeared into the dusty throng of Stonesthrow, as more gaunt figures blocked her view.
"Have you ever looked into the eyes of a child, begging her mother not to sell them to a noble? Have you never seen that same mother hoping dearly that the noble might grant her child a worthwhile life, all the same hoping her child is not beaten too severely in the noble's house?"
His words echoed in her memory as her attention drifted from one refugee to another. A crying babe in a woman’s arms. A man huddled on a thin rug laid on the ground. Another emaciated girl trying to stoke a fire under a pot of watery stew.
There was a kind of hopelessness that weighed upon the shoulders of every person she looked upon, like thick metal links of quiet despair that chained their strength and their spirit to the ground.
Roen thought she knew the adversity they faced. But it was not until Nero spoke those words, his expression darkened with bitterness, that she realized she had never fully bore witness to their plight. Now her visits to the refugee camps were colored in a new light, as if she was seeing things through a newly focused lens.
Sayer will never have to beg his mother. Not if I have any say in it.
Was that why she was here? To visit that child? To share the small meal that was her lunch? And offer her conjury to whomever needed it? And what good were her efforts, when they were still but drops in a barrel?
But that was why she had agreed to an alliance with a smuggler, was it not? Nero Lazarov had openly admitted he was a criminal, after all.
It was because she believed his words that he wanted to better Ul’dah. She had tailed him in an effort to gain evidence against him and Jameson Taeros, only to find out that he too was plotting against the Monetarist noble. They even collaborated to lure Taeros into a trap and catch his men with illegal contraband, but that became complicated when Nero’s crew was not able to get away, and his first mate was wounded and arrested, along with Taeros’ men.
Roen wondered if the contraband was enough to arrest Taeros. Both Natalie and Coatleque seemed to believe Taeros’ side of things when it came to the somnus affair--his claim that he was being framed and that he had nothing to do with her poisoning. But Roen could not forget that he was responsible for disgracing three Sultansworns, and for trying to lure Gharen out to be killed. And Delial had linked him with the Garlean woman Banurein. Roen was determined to find the truth behind Taeros, with or without anyone’s help.
But in investigating him on her own, the clues had led her to Nero. Roen could not discern his true motivations; she knew nothing about the man. But she could not help but be drawn by his desire to better Ul’dah, to fix what was broken, even if his ambitions to oust the Monetarists from their seat of power seemed impossible and foolish. And as she sat amongst the destitute and the sick, Roen could not deny that this was a greater need. Perhaps Taeros is only the first step.
Roen sighed and rubbed her eyes, unsure of what to do next. But it was then that she spotted a figure that she did not expect to see. His black hair streaked with that strange orange hue was unmistakable. The long forelocks hid his eyes, but she recognized Nero easily enough.
She rose from her seat and dusted herself off, wondering if he was here on his own business. Either way, she had promised to give him an update on his First Mate, Daegsatz, so she headed towards the man.
The Highlander child looked back up at her, his dark skin starkly offsetting sky-blue eyes which shone brightly under the Thanalan sun. He could have been no older than six cycles, and yet there was already a hint of keen wisdom in his eyes--a wisdom born from the hard life of a refugee. He inspected his arm where the cut had been, his small lips pursed in scrutiny. When he turned back to her, he bore her a bright smile. “All better!â€
“See, Sayer? There was nothing to be scared of.†Roen grinned back at him, her hand lightly playing with the beads that were woven onto the ends of his blonde braided locks. Even in poverty, the Ala Mhigans took painstaking care to display their heritage proudly. Sayer was a malnutritioned, nearly emaciated boy, but none would ever mistake him for anything else than a child of Ala Mhigo. And perhaps it was because of that proud and stubborn heritage that Roen had been able to goad him into letting her use conjury on his infected cut, despite his distrusting nature of magic. It also helped that he knew her from her days of patrolling through the camps as a Brass Blade, when she came upon him being bullied by older bigger children. They ran as soon as they spotted her, and she had made a friend that day when she shared her lunch with the small child.
“I said I wasn’t scared,†Sayer reminded her quickly, his face scrunching up with protest. He hopped down from the box they were both seated upon and held up two fists, bouncing lightly on his feet. “I’ve been gettin’ better! And now those boys come at me, I’ll be ready fer ‘em!†He threw a couple of air punches in her direction and showed off his fiercest look.
Roen laughed and held up her hands. “I surrender!†When Sayer paused with a beaming smile, she reached into her satchel and withdrew a wrapped package. “Here is some dried meat and an orange, fresh from La Noscea!â€
Sayer’s blue eyes went wide as saucers as he snatched the package from her hand. He peeked inside the cloth wrapping to make sure of the contents within -- suspicious boy he was -- before he blinked back at Roen. “For me? And ma?â€
Roen nodded. “Aye, go share with your ma.†She watched with a contented sigh when the boy scampered off, eager to show his new prize to his mother. Roen’s smile slowly faded as the small figure disappeared into the dusty throng of Stonesthrow, as more gaunt figures blocked her view.
"Have you ever looked into the eyes of a child, begging her mother not to sell them to a noble? Have you never seen that same mother hoping dearly that the noble might grant her child a worthwhile life, all the same hoping her child is not beaten too severely in the noble's house?"
His words echoed in her memory as her attention drifted from one refugee to another. A crying babe in a woman’s arms. A man huddled on a thin rug laid on the ground. Another emaciated girl trying to stoke a fire under a pot of watery stew.
There was a kind of hopelessness that weighed upon the shoulders of every person she looked upon, like thick metal links of quiet despair that chained their strength and their spirit to the ground.
Roen thought she knew the adversity they faced. But it was not until Nero spoke those words, his expression darkened with bitterness, that she realized she had never fully bore witness to their plight. Now her visits to the refugee camps were colored in a new light, as if she was seeing things through a newly focused lens.
Sayer will never have to beg his mother. Not if I have any say in it.
Was that why she was here? To visit that child? To share the small meal that was her lunch? And offer her conjury to whomever needed it? And what good were her efforts, when they were still but drops in a barrel?
But that was why she had agreed to an alliance with a smuggler, was it not? Nero Lazarov had openly admitted he was a criminal, after all.
It was because she believed his words that he wanted to better Ul’dah. She had tailed him in an effort to gain evidence against him and Jameson Taeros, only to find out that he too was plotting against the Monetarist noble. They even collaborated to lure Taeros into a trap and catch his men with illegal contraband, but that became complicated when Nero’s crew was not able to get away, and his first mate was wounded and arrested, along with Taeros’ men.
Roen wondered if the contraband was enough to arrest Taeros. Both Natalie and Coatleque seemed to believe Taeros’ side of things when it came to the somnus affair--his claim that he was being framed and that he had nothing to do with her poisoning. But Roen could not forget that he was responsible for disgracing three Sultansworns, and for trying to lure Gharen out to be killed. And Delial had linked him with the Garlean woman Banurein. Roen was determined to find the truth behind Taeros, with or without anyone’s help.
But in investigating him on her own, the clues had led her to Nero. Roen could not discern his true motivations; she knew nothing about the man. But she could not help but be drawn by his desire to better Ul’dah, to fix what was broken, even if his ambitions to oust the Monetarists from their seat of power seemed impossible and foolish. And as she sat amongst the destitute and the sick, Roen could not deny that this was a greater need. Perhaps Taeros is only the first step.
Roen sighed and rubbed her eyes, unsure of what to do next. But it was then that she spotted a figure that she did not expect to see. His black hair streaked with that strange orange hue was unmistakable. The long forelocks hid his eyes, but she recognized Nero easily enough.
She rose from her seat and dusted herself off, wondering if he was here on his own business. Either way, she had promised to give him an update on his First Mate, Daegsatz, so she headed towards the man.
