[Headline] NEW WOES PLAGUE UL'DAH'S REFUGEE CAMPS

[Brynhilde]

Roromai Didimai, reporting for the Tonberry's Lantern

 

The sun rises on a cool Thanalan morning. It’s quiet in the Sultanate’s lands as the Calamity’s beleaguered refugees awaken, and so you could be forgiven for being ignorant of the chaos allegedly running rampant through the camps in recent weeks. But complaints by the camp's inhabitants speak of a quiet terror tearing families apart, and being deliberately overlooked by the authorities.

 

I headed out to one of the larger camps lining Ul’dah’s city walls this Watersday morning to see if I could find a refugee willing to talk to me regarding these allegations. The residents of the camp seemed determined to give me the swerve, most even refusing to meet my eye. Eventually I managed to track down a scruffy young Midlander who seemed more than eager to discuss these troubles.

 

Alex Clayworth is much like every other Midlander refugee you find. Dirty, depressed, and with that look of hopelessness in his eyes. But he was adamant that I would hear the full story to understand the refugee’s plight.

 

“It’s real strange, like. They ain’t… We don’t hear nuffin’, yeah? It started slow at first, like. A few people. Didn’t really notice. People come and go all the time round here.”

 

Nothing alarming at first indeed, readers. Alas, this too is what the refugees thought.

 

“Then we started to notice, like. People who’d been in camp for moons just… vanished. Leavin’ behind family, yeah? That ain’t right. Groups at a time. Not just one or two, like. Ten, fifteen. Lots of ‘em. Somethin’s pickin’ us off, yeah? The people vanish in the night, like. I don’t know how. Me Ma was one of them, yeah? She had a fever, so she’d been sleepin’ days. We shared a tent. I go to sleep, no noise, nuffin’. Wake in the mornin’ and she ain’t there any more. No one’s seen her, and others have vanished. It ain’t right, and no one is listenin’!”

 

It is difficult to listen to the boy’s distress, but I bid farewell to Alex and his dusty home, and turn my attentions to a Brass Blade conversing with a merchant at the city gate. Was it true that the law knows what is happening to the refugees, and is looking the other way?

 

“Look, people come and go from these camps all of the time.” The Blade - an imposing Hellsguard who refuses to give his name and rank - says. “And there’s so many of them. How are we supposed to keep track of their numbers? It’s an absurd expectation. As for people going missing, well. I’d want to leave too, if I were forced in with this rabble.”

 

“That’s just the thing, there’s too many!” Interjects the Lalafellin merchant beside the Blade. “And they are each of them naught but a drain on our resources and space, not to mention that they and their camps are unsightly, and magnets for crime and depravity. If a few of these scroungers leave, or go missing, or what have you -- well, I daresay it’s a win for Ul’dah and Her honest, hard working citizens.”

 

Despite my persistent questioning, I leave unsatisfied with the answers I receive. The Refugees’ claims regarding the Blades’ complacency over the missing people are controversial, and I can neither confirm nor deny them. But one thing seems to me to be plainly evident; there is a dark horror ravaging the poor of the Sultanate’s refugee camps. Without allies to step forward to offer the hand of clemency, families will continue to be torn apart, and will be lost to a fate shadowy and unknown.