Chapter I: Nevassa
Running down an old alleyway in the backstreets of Nevassa he glanced over his shoulder. It seemed he'd finally escaped the wrathful guards that had been chasing him since he'd left the market. In one hand he held a loaf of bread that he'd just pilfered from a stall, in the other, a rusty dagger, covered in blood. He completed the last leg of his journey in a measured walk, a small limp just barely noticeable. He came to the side of an unremarkable, decrepit old building that he quickly scaled with practiced motions. Once atop it he sat down under an old bag that served as both a roof and a place to carry his stolen goods. He quickly tore into the bread; it was for him a rare commodity.
He'd lived all over Nevassa for as long as he could remember. He'd never stay in one place for too long, if you did that the guards would eventually recognize and catch you. There were so many street orphans like himself that he witnessed at least one being caught every week or so, and those captures were enough to remind him about the importance of keeping a low profile. No one knew he existed, and that was just the way he liked it. Throughout his past there were a few times where he'd associated with the various "gangs" of the city. Those experiences had, without exception, ended badly. So now he lived alone and, as far as he knew, would continue to do so forever. The world, however, rarely obliges to act as we expect it to, as the young boy would soon learn.
The next morning he packed up his meager belongings and climbed down from the building, leaving no evidence that he'd ever been there. Heading east down the alley, he didn't have a specific place in mind yet, but he knew he'd like to be on the other side of the marketplace by tonight. Once he'd set up his new camp (this time in an abandoned house), he headed into the market for his meal of the day. Looking around, he darted under a food stall manned by an older shopkeeper. The brown haired man appeared to be depressed, and kept looking longingly up at the richer, more high-class section of the marketplace. This inattention gave Sothe plenty of time to take enough food to last him at least a week. Once he was finished, and the brown haired merchant was again staring at the more well off sellers while sadly stroking his goatee, Sothe jumped out from under the cloth-covered stall. He immediately began making his way through the crowd, unnoticed by both the merchant and the guards.
Unfortunately, someone had seen him. An old man yelled out "thief!" and pointed at him. Turning around, the young thief took off without a backwards glance as the guards and several of the merchants took off after him. Turning down a side alley he tried to make his way into the slums of Nevassa, where he knew they'd never find him. Fate was truly against him that day, however, and the guards managed to cut him off. Turning to retrace his steps he found that the shopkeepers were barring his path, although the merchant from whom he'd stolen the food did not appear to be among them. As he was unable to speak the thief instead tried to motion them out of the way. The merchants ignored his silent request, and remained rooted there while the guards advanced behind him.
They'd given him no choice, if he didn't act now, the guards would catch and kill him. Growing up in a world that had shown him no kindness, he lived by one rule: survive, whatever the cost nothing is worth more than your life. Running full speed at the merchants he jumped and stabbed one through the chest, bringing the merchant to the ground in a pool of blood, none of it his own. Jumping over the body as the other shopkeepers recoiled in horror, and the soldiers began to give chase, he ran once again into the heart of Nevassa. His eyes were like sharpened steel, cold and unperturbed.
The death of the merchant had caused surprisingly few ripples, perhaps because just a few years prior, Daein was swept by a deadly plague that had killed off much of its population. Within a few days he was up and about in the market again, searching continuously for food. On one particularly foggy morning the boy was wandering around when he noticed a stall that made him stop dead in his tracks. He wasn't sure why, but for some reason, he felt drawn to the stall and its owner. As he got closer to the stall he noticed its occupant was a fortuneteller. Although he didn't yet know it, his fate, and that of Tellius, had been irrevocably changed as soon as he set his eyes on her. At first glance she appeared to be an old crone with long grey hair and a small, sad smile. Suddenly he regained his senses and quickly turned away from her, not wanting her to notice that he had been walking, entranced, towards her.
He left the market place quickly after that, empty-handed. The next day though he couldn't help but return to that very spot. This time he situated himself behind, and slightly to the left, of her stall so she wouldn't notice him. For over a week he'd go there, every day, and just watch her, completely mesmerized. He couldn't hear what she said to people, and even if he could, he wouldn't be able to understand her, but he did notice her clients always left happier than when they'd come. He also noticed that she, despite having many customers, didn't usually walk away with very much money. Most of the time she either wouldn't take their money, or she'd take it and then give most of it to the small children who always ran up to play with her. After this had been going on for some time she finally broke the silence,
"Come here, little one. Please, don't be afraid," she said without turning around.
He recoiled at that. For one thing her voice was kinder than any he'd ever heard before; it was so soft and welcoming. For another the voice belonged to that of a young girl, not an old woman, he realized. After several minutes he finally crept out of the shadows and into the early morning light. Approaching her warily, he stopped a few feet away from her, not yet ready to close the remaining distance.
"My name is Micaiah," she prompted gently, "what's yours?"
After a few second delay,
"… Sothe," he said quietly.
"That's a beautiful name, Sothe," she said as she lifted her hood to reveal not grey he saw, but shining silver hair and amber eyes.
Sothe was slightly dazzled at this image of seeming perfection. For surely only an angel could be this lovely?
"Would you like to sit down?" she asked, holding out her hand.
Although he couldn't understand her words, the meaning was inescapable. Unsure at first, he hesitated. He'd lived in the dark for his whole life, born and raised far from people's watchful eyes. It was hard for him to let go from the comfort and safety of those shadows. Her unspoken promise though, to heal a hole within him he hadn't even known existed, was enticing. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and possibly ever would do. To trust with your life complete strangers is no easy thing to ask, of anyone, especially not a boy who had never met someone who did not eventually try to stick a knife in his back. But after a long while he steeled himself enough to close that small distance, and slip his hand into hers.
She immediately noticed how small his hands were, small, and shaking. Smiling up at him, he sat down next her at her table. Together they ate a lunch made up of bread and fresh fruits, sitting in companionable silence. Sothe couldn't have said much even if he'd wanted to, and Micaiah could sense what he needed now was company, rather than words. Sothe stayed with her the rest of the day, watching her read people's fortunes and enjoying her company more than he'd willingly admit. After the market closed and Micaiah began to pack up her stall Sothe slipped away before she could say anything. Sothe hadn't learned to survive on the street by taking unnecessary risks. He'd ease himself into this at his own pace, and Micaiah was perfectly content to let him do so.
For the next year Sothe's day primarily consisted of nabbing a quick breakfast shortly after sunrise, and then making his way over to Micaiah's stall, from there he'd stay with her until the market closed, whereupon he would return to the his beloved alleys. The two did very little talking, at first because Sothe couldn't, although Micaiah set out straight away to rectify the problem. In between each fortune telling she would teach Sothe different words and do her best to explain their meaning. Even though he couldn't yet speak anything besides his name, he knew a fair number of words that were used in the market (i.e. food, water, guards, sale, etc.), so she wasn't starting completely from scratch. After a little less than a year Sothe was more than able to hold his own in a conversation, and had to ask for Micaiah's help only infrequently. Once he'd become more or less fluent in the common tongue, he still didn't talk very much with Micaiah, or anyone for that matter. This however was simply because he'd spent his formative years in complete silence, and therefore felt more comfortable expressing himself by action, rather than through speech.
Besides speaking lessons, Micaiah and Sothe spent most of their time telling each other about themselves. Sothe learned that Micaiah had grown up far away from Nevassa, hailing from the south by the Daein-Begnion border. She, like him, was an orphan who couldn't remember her parents. Even though she worked as a fortuneteller, she couldn't really predict the future, at least, not on command. Sometimes she said she'd get blurry visions of the future, and these, she claimed, always came true. This power, as well as the enjoyment she derived by making people happy, was why she decided to become a fortuneteller in the first place.
During the one day a week the market closed Micaiah and Sothe usually spent their time together walking around the city. Not the back alleys Sothe lived in, but rather the nicer, upper class parts that were filled with some truly beautiful architecture and statues of old war heroes. Sothe couldn't really care less about the architecture, but he always found his curiosity piqued by the history behind the statues. He, like most of the street orphans in the city, always dreamed about joining the army. They imagined that, as a soldier, you'd have money, a place to live, and true freedom. Because to them that is what the sword symbolized, it gave you power, if you wanted something, you could fight for it. As a soldier, if someone ordered you to do something you had a choice, the sword, and the sword alone, gave you that choice. Sothe often dreamed about one day becoming a famous general and leading his army to fantastic victories in far away lands.
Micaiah smiled to herself at Sothe's fascination with soldiers and the army. She always resented their existence, because to her it showed humanity had a long way to go before it became truly civilized. And because a feeling in the pit of her stomach told her Sothe might just get his wish. Although Micaiah didn't yet know it, her prophecy was spot on. Eventually the world would be ripped apart not once, but twice, by continent-wide wars, and at the heart of these events would be Sothe and Micaiah, amongst others. War, however, lay far in the future, and for now, Micaiah and Sothe's biggest concern was getting food for their next meal (which granted is a pretty big concern).
Business had been going well that day. Micaiah had had so many clients she almost wished there weren't so many people coming to her so she could focus on teaching Sothe, although he had been showing a lot of improvement lately. She'd also recently found out that Sothe had never been outside of Nevassa in his life. She hadn't told Sothe, but throughout her already long life she had travelled much of Tellius. She placed a strong value on seeing different peoples and cultures, and the concept of being stuck in one city your whole life was entirely alien to her. She wasn't even planning on staying in Nevassa that much longer, but she and Sothe could cross that bridge when the time came. For now she would content herself with taking him out to see some of the countryside for a day.
After they got through the wall marking the end of the city-limits Sothe felt a little exhilarated. He had of course seen outside Nevassa when he was standing on the rooftops, but to actually be out here with all this open space in front of him was something else. Despite the child part of him, or whatever was left of it, telling him to go running off into the distance, preferably yelling, he mastered the impulse. The more practical part of his mind, the one that had kept him alive all these years, told him to be wary of this new environment. With all this open space he felt like he might just float off at any moment, there was nothing to keep him grounded here, no shadows to hide in.
"Come on," said Micaiah, "there's a mountain about an hour's walk south of here where we can eat lunch,"
They spent the whole day walking around, first they hiked up a small mountain, then they explored part of a nearby forest, and finally Micaiah took him to a river to cool down in at the edge of said forest. Sothe had never spent this much time moving and, by the end of it, he was exhausted. He felt relief course through his entire body when he dropped into the running water. It felt as though the river was sweeping away all of his troubles. For once he could just relax and forget about all of his troubles. After he got his energy back, Micaiah tried to teach him how to swim, but stopped fairly quickly. It was apparent Sothe had neither the natural ability nor the inclination to learn it, at least in any timely manner. Sothe did have a lot of fun in a splashing fight with Micaiah however, and before they knew it the sun was beginning to set in the distance.
"See Sothe? That wasn't so bad. A little fresh air and a walk in the countryside can really do a person wonders," Micaiah said as the two started their walk back to Nevassa.
"I guess it was all right," Sothe replied, "I still prefer the city though,"
"Well of course, you've lived there your whole life. I don't expect you to just drop everything and come live out here. I just want you to be more open to different things. Now come on, if we don't hurry we won't make it back by nightfall, and then you really will have to sleep out here,"
"I foresee you will one day become a great soldier, renowned all over Tellius for your combat prowess. I can see your father is already a great general and has high hopes for you as well. But always remember, you are neither your father nor his property. Follow your heart, both on and off the battlefield, and it will take you far," Micaiah told a redheaded dragon rider who was on her way to join the Daein army.
"Thank you, seer. How much do I owe you?" the redhead asked.
"It was my pleasure, no pay is necessary," Micaiah said, waving away the proffered gold. "And what about you, sir knight?" she asked the girl's one eyed companion, "Would you like to know what the future holds for you?"
"I already know what it is. Following around my master's daughter while I dream about being able to sleep. It's what I've been doing all day, and will continue doing for the rest of it, I'm sure. I don't need a glorified con artist to tell me that,"
"Please excuse my companion," the redheaded knight said quickly, "It's not that he doesn't know how to be polite; he's just too lazy to do so." At that she stood up and slapped the man on the back of his head. "Anyway, thank you for your services," she finished with a bow before angrily pushing her companion away, who appeared to have somehow fallen asleep.
"You see that Sothe, those two were Daein wyvern riders. Some day you'll be able to join the army, just like them," Micaiah told him as the two soldiers walked away.
"I'm beginning to re-think that particular dream. The one eyed knight looked like he'd be just as likely to fall off his wyvern as hit his opponent,"
"He's much stronger than he looks, I think. Much like you," she added as an afterthought.
"Um… Thanks, I guess," he said, unaccustomed to being complimented.
"I mean it," she replied, giving him an encouraging smile. "Well, I'm going to go try and find us something to eat for lunch, keep an eye on the stall will you?"
"You trust me to watch your money?" he asked, surprised.
"Of course I do. I wouldn't trust anyone with my money more than you. I'll be back soon, good luck," she said, walking away.
"I don't know what she's thinking," Sothe said to himself as he sat down, "I could run away with all her money if I wanted to, and she'd never catch me."
After a quarter of an hour an old man, and a small girl, approached the stall.
"Would you be kind enough to read my granddaughter's fortune, soothsayer?" the old man asked Sothe.
Sothe was about to tell him to go away and that he couldn't see the future, but realized he could take advantage of the old man's gullibility.
"Of course, kind sir," he said, imitating Micaiah's deferential manner of speaking. "Miss, if you please," he said, motioning the little girl up to the table. "First I'm going to read your palms,"
As Sothe held out his hand the little girl (who was probably about as old as Sothe) nervously placed her right hand atop his left. Although Sothe had no idea what he was doing, he figured people who actually read palms probably didn't know what they were doing either, so he'd just make it up as he went along.
"Ah yes. This line here means you will get married to a very handsome, rich man with a lot of money. This curved one shows you will have many children who will support you and your husband in your old age. This intersection of the Simian and Jupiter lines over here indicates that someday you will leave Daein on a long journey to far away lands.
Keep it vague and optimistic, Sothe thought to himself. As he looked over her hands it became clear to him that she had never put in an honest day's work in her life. She was probably out shopping with her rich parents, the brat. His disgust for her gullibility, coupled with his resentment for her privileged lifestyle, made him decide to rob the two blind, because Ashera knows they deserved it. What made her better than him, or Micaiah, or anyone else who lived on the streets? He'd grown up never knowing if he'd be alive the next day, she had probably never even needed to think, let alone act, in order to survive. How was that fair? What did he do to deserve anything less than she did? He'd be righting the scales a little bit, that was all. The very fact he was making these arguments disturbed him greatly, however. Never before had he ever hesitated or held back to tell himself that what he was doing was right, he'd always just done it. His need to live was the only justification he'd ever required to steal from others.
"I must be going soft," Sothe muttered to himself as he stood up. "Okay, Miss, come over here behind the stall. I'm going to ask you to throw these die and think of the thing you want most in this world,"
As she came around Sothe quickly scanned her person for anything valuable. On her wrist was a silver bracelet and in one of her pockets she appeared to have a pouch of what he hoped was gold coins.
Excellent, he thought to himself. When he handed her the die he skillfully relieved her of the bracelet, and as she turned to throw the die on the table he nabbed the pouch, disguising the sound the coins made with a cough. Not even bothering to look at the die he told her the numbers showed that whatever she had wished for would one day come true.
"Thank you so much, master seer!" the girl said, eyes shining happily as she ran back to her grandfather.
"The pleasure is truly all mine,"
"Here, take these," the older man said as he gave Sothe a couple of coins. "Come along, dear, your mother will be worried about you," he told the young girl as they headed back into the crowded plaza.
"Fools," Sothe said, smirking as he inspected the pouch. There was easily four or five times as many coins in there as the man had given Sothe.
Shortly thereafter Micaiah returned to the stall and was very surprised when Sothe handed her a large pile of coins.
"Where did these come from?" she asked suspiciously.
"A little girl asked me to read her fortune while you were gone, so I made up some happy stuff to tell her,"
"Well that was nice of you. But she shouldn't have paid you this much," Micaiah said, instantly seeing that there was more to the story. "And what's this?" she asked angrily when she saw the silver bracelet, "no Sothe, please tell me you didn't take this!"
Sothe was a little surprised by Micaiah's outburst, he knew she didn't like it when he stole stuff, but she usually just let it go.
"I'm… Sorry?"
"Sothe you can't keep doing this! It's one thing to steal food to survive; no one can blame you for that. But taking this much money from a child? You should know better than that. We make enough money so that we don't have to steal from others anymore, you need to control yourself better,"
"But she didn't need it either! And we can sell it so we can buy more food, better food! Wouldn't be nice to eat something besides day-old leftovers? Don't we deserve more than that? I'll bet she never has to eat moldy bread! Why is she any better than me or you?!" Sothe responded, standing up, fists shaking with anger.
"That has nothing do with this. She may have more money than we do, and she may eat better food than us. But why in the world does that give you the right to take her stuff? There is always someone poorer out there, and by stealing beyond what you need to live no better than the very people you hate. Please, try to understand; what you did was wrong, Sothe. You're going to have to learn not to steal from people just because you can."
Sothe stood there for a couple of moments, shaking and staring down at the ground.
"Sothe?" Micaiah said hesitantly.
Suddenly he turned and ran down a nearby alley, not saying a word.
"Sothe!" Micaiah called after him. "Darn it," she said to herself as she pocketed the stolen gold and the bracelet before following him down the alley.
Sothe was practically blinded by tears as he ran, although whether they were tears of anger or guilt he wasn't sure, maybe both. All he knew was he never wanted to see that look of disappointment on Micaiah's face ever again. At first he wasn't sure where his feet were taking him, but eventually he saw that he was approaching his current sleeping quarters. Climbing up the side of a nondescript building, he found his familiar bag/tent a welcome sight, and he sheltered under it, waiting for the tears to stop. It had been years since he'd last cried, doing such a thing meant you were vulnerable, weak. And he knew better than most, being weak was the same thing as being dead.
After a couple of minutes they stopped falling, but before he could decide what to do next he heard someone clambering up the side of the building. He knew it must be Micaiah, but he didn't want to see her yet so he kept his back turned to her.
"Oh my…" Micaiah said as she took in what constituted as Sothe's home.
"Go away," he told her, still refusing to look at her.
"Look, I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I apologize for over reacting. I forgot that you grew up having to steal everyday just to survive, and you didn't have the luxury choosing how much or what to take. I just… I want you to understand why I said what I did,"
"I refuse to apologize for wanting to have more than just dirt and rags," Sothe said, obstinate as ever, but finally turning to look her in the face.
There are ways to accomplish that other than stealing, Sothe. I-, oh come here," she said, stopping her rebuke to get down on her hands and knees and wipe his face clean. Sothe, grudgingly at first, allowed her to dry him. After she finished he unexpectedly leaned in and hugged her. It was the first time they'd hugged, and Micaiah returned it after her initial surprise, protectively wrapping her arms around him.
"Please, don't hate me," Sothe whispered.
"Sothe!" Micaiah exclaimed, "of course I don't hate you, I could never hate you. I may not always agree with what you do, but never mistake that for me hating you. No matter what, I will always love you," she said earnestly, pulling him in even tighter.
"Thank you," he said quietly. The two stayed up there on that rooftop, all throughout the night, keeping each other company. He might not have had much, but he, unlike anyone else in the world, had Micaiah. And that was enough.
It was the first time Micaiah and Sothe slept in the same place together, and it was the last time Sothe had to sleep under a torn up old bag for many years to come.
After the incident with the little girl, Sothe stopped leaving Micaiah at the end of the day. She asked him to come and stay with her in the apartment she rented, an invitation he gladly accepted. Things were looking up for the pair and Sothe was, for perhaps the first time, content with his life. Fate, however, is ever the enemy of complacency, and the time was fast approaching that would force Micaiah and Sothe out from Nevassa. It came in the form of an old widow, who'd lost her husband, a Daein soldier, a few years prior.
The widow had not gotten over the loss very easily, and continued to think about it almost every day. As she searched the market for some meat with which to make her children dinner tonight, she happened upon Micaiah's stall. Hailing from Begnion, she did not believe anyone but the Apostle could see the future, and so did not give Micaiah a second glance. Her gaze stuck on Sothe however, for he seemed very familiar to her. She struggled to place him at first, probably because his demeanor was so different now. Ultimately she was not to be denied however. The boy still reeked of the street upon which he'd been born. His clothes also betrayed him, as although they had become noticeably shabbier, they were undeniably the same.
She promptly went over to the guards and explained the situation. Within minutes she had returned with three guards to punish the child for his crimes.
"Miss, please step away from the boy," one of the soldiers said as he approached Micaiah's stall.
"What? What's going on?" Micaiah asked, confused.
"He is responsible for the death of a soldier of Daein. The punishment for which is, sadly, death," the soldier responded, looking down at Sothe distastefully.
"Please, sir, he is only a child," Micaiah pleaded. "Ma'am, I am very sorry for your loss, but please, show my companion mercy, he did not know what he was doing!"
"Kill him! Kill him quickly before he escapes again!" the widow yelled hysterically.
One of the soldiers moved forward, brandishing his sword. With his back to the wall the animal within Sothe reared its ugly head, and he jumped forward, stabbing the soldier in the hip, crippling him. At this the other two jumped forward before he could turn to meet them. One of them grabbed him around the collar and the other ran him through with his lance, all but killing him.
"Goddess, please forgive me," Micaiah said quietly as she took a book out from her cloak and raised her hands, saying something in a language Sothe had never heard before. Before the soldiers could react two rays of golden light materialized above Micaiah's head and struck them, dropping them to the ground. Whether they were unconscious or dead Sothe did not know.
Sothe fell to the ground as the soldier holding him was hit by Micaiah's attack, but before he reached it something caught him.
"Micaiah, I… I'm… sorry," Sothe croaked, unable to make his mouth work properly with all the blood.
"Hold on Sothe, just hold on, everything's going to be okay," Micaiah said, surprisingly calm given the situation, as she opened his cloak to examine the wound. The lance had left a gaping hole where Sothe's stomach should be. He wouldn't last much longer. Glancing up, she noticed the widow had run off.
"Don't worry, you'll be better soon," she reassured Sothe as she took off her gloves. Placing her hands over the wound Micaiah frowned in concentration as energy flowed through her body and into his. The last thing Sothe saw before he fainted was his flesh and skin magically re-forming beneath her hands.
When he awoke he was laying in Micaiah's bed in their apartment. As soon as he was fully conscious he jumped out of the bed, yelling out Micaiah's name, wanting to make sure she was all right.
"Sothe, not so loudly, I'm right here," came a tired voice from behind him. Whirling around he saw he sitting in a chair by the window, and from the looks of it, he'd just woken her up.
"Micaiah, are you all right? I don't… I'm not… How? What did you do?" He asked, trying to order his thoughts and speak at the same time.
"Just calm down Sothe, as you can see it, doesn't leave me with very much energy. The truth is, I don't know much more than you. Ever since I can remember I've been able to heal people without a staff. As you can see it is very useful, but unfortunately it comes at a price. Because I'm not using a staff the energy to mend the wound comes from my own body. So healing even the smallest of wounds can tire me out, and healing one as large as yours, well, it takes a lot out of me,"
I'm so sorry, Micaiah. But, I guess what I want to say is, thank you. You saved my life, and someday, someday I'll be strong enough to do the same for you, I promise,"
"I pray the day will never come that we have to take up arms to defend each other. But if it does, then there's no one I'd want at my side more than you, Sothe. And there's no need to apologize. You're not the same person you used to be, and I think you can forgive yourself for that soldier's death,"
"But… But I am, Micaiah. That part of me still exists. If you hadn't been there, I'm not sure I wouldn't have killed all of them all if I'd been able to, even the widow," he said, looking down at the floor in shame.
"Sothe, listen to me very closely," Micaiah began, sitting up straight in her chair; a fire seemingly burning in her eyes. "Who you are, what strengths and weaknesses you are born with does not matter. It is the choices you make, and the life you choose to live, that determines who you are as a person. If it makes you feel any better, I could not be more proud of you right now."
"Thank you, Micaiah," he said, finally looking up from the floor.
After a moment's pause, "So what will we do now? They'll be looking for us all over Nevassa soon."
"I've stayed here for long enough as it is. Tomorrow, I think I will depart for Begnion, and nothing would make me happier than if you were to join me," she told Sothe, getting off the chair and bending down so that they were almost at eye level, reaching out with her hand.
"Like your shadow," he said, gripping hers with a strength that belied his age.