>>6133376“Fine,” you sigh, and follow Sandora and the others as you walk out of the village, lingering a few steps behind, your heart troubled by the misery you see. The Thronelands look so… disparaging. Even when you lived in Candéa, you were used to misery and dejection, but not like this. These are refugees, just like your family, just like yourself.
Sure, the best thing you can do is to deal with this mission so that they can go back to their old life, but it’s clear they were forcibly pushed away with little care for anything else. A couple of kids sit by a house, looking at you with both hands held up. They share a single ragged blanket between themselves. It’s just like you and one of your brothers, back in the Landing Strip.
You stop.
Glancing at the group ahead, you judge that you still have time to do this. You reach into your backpack and take out what little provisions you stole from the ship that morning — just what remained from Sandora’s abundant breakfast, really, filling the kids’ arms with bread and pastries. Their small mouths open in wonder, but you put your finger to your lips.
“Don’t even mention it. Share it with others.” Then you also take out Master’s other gift. Besides the cameo, this has been one of the most precious things you ever owned. The cape that has kept you dry during rain, and your silver hair hidden.
But now — after what you did on the barge, baring your secret and your curse for the entire world to see — maybe you don’t need all of it anymore. Holding it against your sword, you cut the cape in two, and drape one of the halves around the two kids.
“Hold onto it,” you whisper. “Hold onto hope. Hold onto the new day.”
The boy’s eyes go wide as he realises what you are saying. With a thin smile, you hold up the three middle fingers of your hand, and he does the same.
“Like grandpa,” he mutters, nodding.
“Yes,” you confirm, folding the rest of your cape and putting it back with the rest. “Grandpa was wise.” You turn away and leave, at a brisker pace.
Your shoulders feel lighter, and your chest definitely feels lighter too.
“Candente,” Rubida says looking back at you. “Did you perhaps entertain any personal diplomatic actions?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you reply, your face the picture of innocence.
Rubida chuckles.
“May the Sun-Birther protect us from the day you learn how to lie convincingly, Candente.”
[cont.]
