There were people, Delial knew, who made their fortunes minding the fortunes of others. Men and women in neat little suits and dresses, spectacles perched upon their noses, full to the brim with the scent of hard currency. Said people existed throughout Ul'dah, the city where the wealth of the wealthiest converged into a sea that might, in some what, rivaled the glittering sands of the Sagolii.
She did not trust them.
She sat in her room and she counted again: One, five, ten. One, five, ten. One, five, ten. Her frustration grew with every pass of every stack of gil so carefully counted before, sorted into manageable little piles that slid back and forth as she checked, double-checked, triple-checked herself once, twice, and again. Of course she had been out on her own for quite some time now without much contact with her previous benefactors. Of course she had incurred costs: a place to sleep, food to eat and drink to drink, and a modest wardrobe as not to appear too plebeian. Of course she scrimped where she could: there were times she did not stay at the inn at all and it was still easy enough to earn a meal with the right sort of smile and just enough feigned interest.
One, five, ten. Twenty. Thirty. Two-hundred. Thirty-six. Delial stared and rubbed her fingers at her temples. She could not go home with that, no, and even if she did her house would likely not even be hers with its occupants two - no, three years gone. Ul'dah would drain her and quickly. Fingers rapped on the table, drummed out a rhythm of her irritation in a vain attempt to distract her from a most dreadful thought.
Just what exactly do normal people do for a living?
She did not trust them.
She sat in her room and she counted again: One, five, ten. One, five, ten. One, five, ten. Her frustration grew with every pass of every stack of gil so carefully counted before, sorted into manageable little piles that slid back and forth as she checked, double-checked, triple-checked herself once, twice, and again. Of course she had been out on her own for quite some time now without much contact with her previous benefactors. Of course she had incurred costs: a place to sleep, food to eat and drink to drink, and a modest wardrobe as not to appear too plebeian. Of course she scrimped where she could: there were times she did not stay at the inn at all and it was still easy enough to earn a meal with the right sort of smile and just enough feigned interest.
One, five, ten. Twenty. Thirty. Two-hundred. Thirty-six. Delial stared and rubbed her fingers at her temples. She could not go home with that, no, and even if she did her house would likely not even be hers with its occupants two - no, three years gone. Ul'dah would drain her and quickly. Fingers rapped on the table, drummed out a rhythm of her irritation in a vain attempt to distract her from a most dreadful thought.
Just what exactly do normal people do for a living?
![[Image: d_footer.png]](http://cuideag.com/ffxiv/resources/d_footer.png)
