Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2022 10:14:25 GMT -5
(for Edith Byron )
The markets were busy today. The hustle and bustle of crowds, particularly in this part of the city, was nothing new as commoners and nobles – or at least, the servants of nobles, so really, other commoners – went about their business haggling for prices over a variety of wares. Ber had just finished his own shopping and had been about to leave when, just off to the side, a quick flash of light off something metallic caught his eye. Casually, he made his way over and discovered a small pendant on a thin gold chain, which seemed to drape itself and flow across his fingers like water. The clasp that would have made it wearable appeared to have been damaged, and turning it over, he saw a small crest on the underside of the pendant that even he recognized: that of the Morrigan family.
One of the wealthiest families in the city, with authority and influence that stretched back across the reign of multiple kings, they had the reputation in the military for creating powerful witches, for all that their daughters remained steadfastly apart from it. And, of course, it had been one of them who had cast the curse that so wholly rewove the fabric of the country. Surreptitiously folding up the chain and hiding the entire piece of jewelry in his hand, Ber straightened up and glanced around. No one else seemed to have noticed; indeed, he likely had only seen it because a childhood spent on the streets had primed him for spotting fortuitous opportunities such as this one. Even if he hadn’t found the identifying symbol, he could tell that this piece of jewelry was not cheap.
Which begged two questions: how did it travel from a noble lady to the ground, and what would he do with it now?
His younger self might have immediately pocketed it, seeing it only for its monetary value and the amount and quality of food he could trade for it. While some commoners might hesitate at taking something that so blatantly belonged to such a powerful family in the city, he knew there were plenty others who had few qualms about melting down the gold and repurposing it to sell for themselves. Even now, the impulse to find someone who would do just that wasn’t entirely gone – you could make a soldier out of a street rat, but never get the street rat out of the soldier – but now Ber had a steady income. He was trying to be good; he didn’t need to steal any longer.
If the necklace had just been laying there, its owner couldn’t have been too far away, for certainly there were plenty of other nimble fingers and keen eyes looking for their own fortuitous opportunities. Though he had no idea what any of the Morrigans looked like, he did know what nobles looked like. Ber glanced around, gaze roving across the sea of shoppers to try to find the best dressed of them all. It didn’t take long; nobles had a way of standing out from a crowd, even when they were trying to blend in. Old money had a way of influencing everything about a person, and while the nobility could change their clothes all they wanted (and they often did), it was a lot harder to change their demeanor.
“Excuse me, my lady,” He said as he approached and tried to catch her attention, offering a slight bow. Holding out his hand to show her the pendant and chain, he continued, “I believe you may have dropped this?” In his experience, nobles were a temperamental lot with little patience for being interrupted by the, ahem, impoverished scum of the city, such as himself. Only in the barracks where they were equals could he afford to address any of them with anything less than his best manners and utmost deference. They weren’t in the barracks now, and there was certainly very little to indicate that he was a soldier, let alone make a distinction between him and any other commoner in the city.