"Please, sir..." The woman glanced up at Warren pleadingly. From the red in her eyes to the defeated, hopeless expression it had been evident she'd been crying for longer than the sun had been up. "Please help us..."
Anyone who spent time in Ul'dah and dressed in better than rags had probably heard a cry of a similar sort a dozen times a day. The unlucky and the destitute and the downtrodden all sounded the same once they'd been trampled enough, and the boots in Ul'dah were heavy. There was a small child at the woman's side, half-hidden behind her leg. A youthful, albeit dirtied, face and lengthy hair concealed whether it was a little boy or a girl.
"What's wrong?" Warren's arms were both occupied hauling bags from the green grocer, supplies for back home that were long overdue. He quickly weighed his options should the woman not be as defeated as she appeared.
"My brother... He's dead." The woman's tone indicated her discomfort with the order of the words, and her features threatened to give way to another shower of tears. She managed to persevere and continued. "He's been killed, I just know it. Will you find out what happened to him...?"
And that was how Warren ended up having a breakfast with a mother and her child.
**
The boy scarfed down his third muffin as the woman stared into her tea. It was heavily steeped black stuff from somewhere off in the depths of the Black Shroud, pungent but supposed to help with stress. It was small wonder the woman needed it.
"After the Calamity, it was just me and Teland here..." She tried to smile, ruffling the boy's gangly head of hair. "Once his daddy died I didn't know what was going to happen. He was just so young and I only knew how to be a wife..." She interrupted herself by blowing on the surface of the drink slightly and sipping at it. "It was my brother who stepped up for us, offered to take us in. He didn't have much but he was happy to share, and he promised us that we'd never have to go without as long as he was around." Her smile fell hollow.
"You think he got killed." Warren was seated at a worn table with just a touch of a wobble. The work seemed amateurish though it was perfectly serviceable, the sort of thing someone tried their hand at as a side project. The kitchen itself was small like the rest of the homestead it occupied; Barely enough for one person let alone two adults and a child. There was a makeshift barrier done with some sheets and a nail that Warren suspected made up a sleeping area.
"He wouldn't... He wouldn't leave us like this. He promised me..." There was disbelief on her voice now, the tone losing restraint and threatening to break again.
"Anything you can tell me about what he was up to would help. Have you already gone to the Brass Blades about this?" He knew his bedside manner was rough, but Warren hoped that if he kept her talking she'd keep her footing and not break down in tears.
"I tried, they told me they'd look into it, and then said there was nothing to be done. Those bastards are hiding something, I just know it! Sure he drank a little, but who doesn't who can afford to?! There's no way he drank himself to death, I know he couldn't..."
There came a long exhalation as Warren weighed the pieces mentally. This woman was making bold claims, and these sorts of implications wouldn't go unnoticed of someone went double-checking on the official word of the law.
"He said it was all going to be okay... He'd just gotten his break into racing on that bird, and he was doing so good!" There was a light in her eyes as she insisted on his performance, a pride of a man doing good. "He was turning things right..."
The boy had finished his muffin and toddled off to wash up. "I can look into this for you as best I can, Miss Yates, but I can't make you any promises." Warren tried to make that as clear as he could, but he knew as well as anyone else how badly hope could distort any message relayed in a trying time.
The woman's thanks and sense of relief were almost overpowering, but Warren was already puzzling out possibilities. The woman's testimony didn't paint a pretty picture for him going forward. Murder, cover-up, Blades in on it? It was a lot to think about.
First things first: We'd need to stop at the grocer on the way back to his home, to replace the bags he'd left behind.
Anyone who spent time in Ul'dah and dressed in better than rags had probably heard a cry of a similar sort a dozen times a day. The unlucky and the destitute and the downtrodden all sounded the same once they'd been trampled enough, and the boots in Ul'dah were heavy. There was a small child at the woman's side, half-hidden behind her leg. A youthful, albeit dirtied, face and lengthy hair concealed whether it was a little boy or a girl.
"What's wrong?" Warren's arms were both occupied hauling bags from the green grocer, supplies for back home that were long overdue. He quickly weighed his options should the woman not be as defeated as she appeared.
"My brother... He's dead." The woman's tone indicated her discomfort with the order of the words, and her features threatened to give way to another shower of tears. She managed to persevere and continued. "He's been killed, I just know it. Will you find out what happened to him...?"
And that was how Warren ended up having a breakfast with a mother and her child.
**
The boy scarfed down his third muffin as the woman stared into her tea. It was heavily steeped black stuff from somewhere off in the depths of the Black Shroud, pungent but supposed to help with stress. It was small wonder the woman needed it.
"After the Calamity, it was just me and Teland here..." She tried to smile, ruffling the boy's gangly head of hair. "Once his daddy died I didn't know what was going to happen. He was just so young and I only knew how to be a wife..." She interrupted herself by blowing on the surface of the drink slightly and sipping at it. "It was my brother who stepped up for us, offered to take us in. He didn't have much but he was happy to share, and he promised us that we'd never have to go without as long as he was around." Her smile fell hollow.
"You think he got killed." Warren was seated at a worn table with just a touch of a wobble. The work seemed amateurish though it was perfectly serviceable, the sort of thing someone tried their hand at as a side project. The kitchen itself was small like the rest of the homestead it occupied; Barely enough for one person let alone two adults and a child. There was a makeshift barrier done with some sheets and a nail that Warren suspected made up a sleeping area.
"He wouldn't... He wouldn't leave us like this. He promised me..." There was disbelief on her voice now, the tone losing restraint and threatening to break again.
"Anything you can tell me about what he was up to would help. Have you already gone to the Brass Blades about this?" He knew his bedside manner was rough, but Warren hoped that if he kept her talking she'd keep her footing and not break down in tears.
"I tried, they told me they'd look into it, and then said there was nothing to be done. Those bastards are hiding something, I just know it! Sure he drank a little, but who doesn't who can afford to?! There's no way he drank himself to death, I know he couldn't..."
There came a long exhalation as Warren weighed the pieces mentally. This woman was making bold claims, and these sorts of implications wouldn't go unnoticed of someone went double-checking on the official word of the law.
"He said it was all going to be okay... He'd just gotten his break into racing on that bird, and he was doing so good!" There was a light in her eyes as she insisted on his performance, a pride of a man doing good. "He was turning things right..."
The boy had finished his muffin and toddled off to wash up. "I can look into this for you as best I can, Miss Yates, but I can't make you any promises." Warren tried to make that as clear as he could, but he knew as well as anyone else how badly hope could distort any message relayed in a trying time.
The woman's thanks and sense of relief were almost overpowering, but Warren was already puzzling out possibilities. The woman's testimony didn't paint a pretty picture for him going forward. Murder, cover-up, Blades in on it? It was a lot to think about.
First things first: We'd need to stop at the grocer on the way back to his home, to replace the bags he'd left behind.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
