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Even from up the road, Ul’dah is a clear exercise in contrasts— the shantytowns outside, the palatial rooftops beyond the walls. Aeran knows where they’d be headed, if it weren’t for a single stroke of luck…
But thanks to the kindness of a family friend, they’ll make it inside the gates. From there, Nhari will help them find a job… or they might find a more exciting option, now that the lead caravan guard’s slightly panicked, emphatic recommendation for the Thaumaturges’ Guild sits in their satchel.
At least that’s the plan… As the wagons approach the gates, a handful of Brass Blades approach, conferring with the merchants about what’s being brought in and then turning their attention to the passenger wagons. A guard surveys Aeran and those sitting near them, his gaze inscrutable behind his half-mask. “On what purpose are you all entering the city?” he asks, with an air of extreme boredom.
“Returning from business in Gridania.”
“My wife’s one of the guards here.”
“Visiting my brother.”
“I’m here for an apprenticeship,” Aeran offers, and the guard stares them down.
“No room for refugees,” he says flatly. “You can go to Stonesthrow if that’s your fancy, but there’s naught for you here.”
“I’ve a place to stay in the city already, we’re just working out a few more details—“
“Aye, and that’s what they all say. Come on, now.”
Aeran fidgets, unsure of what to do. The Blades are eminently bribable, of course, but they’ve got very little gil to their name, and a sufficient bribe would probably cut into it more than they can afford… they’ve got letters, of course, but he seems unlikely to believe what he reads. They’re not quite cut out to flirt their way in, and they doubt it would be a safe idea even if they were. What else…
As the guard begins to play with the hilt of his scimitar, a blessedly familiar if slightly harried voice rings out. “They’re to stay with me.” A short miqo’te man runs up, slightly out of breath but otherwise looking to be more well-off than Aeran’s ever seen him: U’nhari Tia, their mother’s old flame. “I’ve a place for them in my house, and work lined up for them with my employer. You can see my proof of residence if need be.”
“All right, show it here… How do you know this dirt farmer, anyway?” the guard asks, as Nhari digs for paperwork.
“I’m a friend of their mother’s.”
The guard shrugs after giving the parchment a cursory glance and pocketing the coin Nhari slides him under it. “Sure, whatever. Guess you’re in, kid. Don’t cause trouble or you’ll be straight back out.”
“I won’t,” Aeran replies, rolling their eyes, and hops down from the carriage, their dog at their heels. “Nhari! It’s been ages, you look well—“
“And you look tall,” Nhari mutters. “Last I saw you, you came up to my chin.” He accepts their hug for a moment, but turns it into towing them away by the arm all too quickly. “I’ll be glad to catch up as well, but let’s get this lot behind us first.”
“All right.” Aeran follows him dutifully, and—
Nothing could have prepared them for Ul’dah. The tangle of noise, sight, and smell— they’d be lost in an instant, if not for Nhari still leading them along like a child. “Eyes on me,” he tells them. “You’ll get used to it, but you’ve got to learn not to look too impressed first. Else you’ll have your purse cut in a heartbeat— at best. There’s folk here who’d sell their own grandmother for ten gil, but they’d rather a gullible stranger who doesn’t seem to know anyone or anything— easier to get away with it.”
“All right,” they repeat vaguely, and try to focus on him. “Where are—“
“Not far. I told you I’ve a townhouse, right? It won’t be roomy— my niece and nephew are staying there as well, like I mentioned— but it’ll be enough, until you can find your own place. Don’t worry about that yet, though, we’ll get you settled in here first. Business is good enough to keep food on the table for all of us. You haven’t been eating enough,” he adds, glancing at them as he walks.
“Nearly nobody has, back home.”
“And Miranda…”
“I couldn’t convince her to come with,” Aeran sighs. “You know how Ma gets.”
“All too well,” Nhari replies ruefully. “Still, if she changes her mind…”
“I’ll tell her. She made me swear up and down to write.” The hubbub of the city has quieted some, and they risk a glance around: more residential now, but still, quite enough to overwhelm. They glue their eyes back to Nhari. “I don’t know if she could ever get used to this… or if I’ll be able to, really…”
“I don’t know if she would either… You’ll do all right, I think. Zhori and Sahbe can show you around, they settled in just fine after a bit and they’re close enough to your age. Seems most of my mother’s line weren’t cut out to stay in the Sagolii…” Nhari scratches at his ear, thinking. “I managed to land them both apprenticeships with the consortium I work for, but Zhori’s a born haggler and Sahbe’s content to copy him. Might be a bit harder to figure something out for you, though— I got them in before the Calamity. You said you were bringing sewing samples?”
“I have some, but I have a letter of recommendation to the Thaumaturges’ Guild, too.”
“You’re still on about that…? Look, Aeran, I know magic has always interested you, but you can’t just… It takes wealth and politics to get in there, unless you’ve already got training.”
“The recommendation is because I blew up a whole pack of antlings that were attacking the caravan I got here on.”
“You—“ Nhari actually stops for a moment, scrubs at his temples with the heels of his hands. “All right. We’ll talk more about that, I suppose. But you’ve got to learn the city first, no matter what. There’s no mercy here, only money. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I will,” they say, and mean it despite their unease. They don’t know if they can learn to keep up with this dangerous whirlwind of a place, but they’re damn well going to try.
“You’ve always been sharp. I know you can. But here we are,” Nhari announces, stopping before a doorway that Aeran can hardly tell apart from the others. “Home, for now. Let’s get you settled in before anything else.”