06.12.3013: Sauveur and Savior
Summary: A simple shopping trip along the Esplanade in Landing leads to an unexpected series of events.
Date: 12 June 2013
Related: None
Sophie Jor 


Grand Esplanade — Landing
Although the Grand Esplanade is centered on a double lane for ground vehicles and carriages, the majority of the broad street is held for pedestrian use. Smooth pavement extends out around planters that keep vehicle traffic away from people on foot, exposing a broad expanse to the feet of passers by.

The Esplanade leads past scores of little hole-in-the-wall shops and kiosks selling everything from daggers to scarves to jewelry. Light posts are interspersed with the planters, casting a warm glow over the Esplanade at night, while electrostatic shields blur the skies but keep off any rain from above, leaving the Esplanade crowded day or night, rain or shine.

Towering over the Esplanade to the west is the shimmering steel spire of the Citadel, while the Gardens of Erkwin and the Landing Stadium lie to the east. Directly north is the magnificent Palace Towers, seat of House Sauveur.

12 June 3013

Early in the morning, when few people have awoken and only a sparse number of vendors open their doors upon the Esplanade, Sophie decided to take a jaunt through the city. Wearing a luxurious red and gold dress, a hood casting a shadow about her pale features and a ruby necklace along her slender throat, amber eyes flicker with interests towards the few passing carriages and Citizens. Her guard, Caedmon, stands ever watchful behind her, in his standard garb of a green waistcoat over a white shirt, his hand resting upon the pommel of a large sheathed sword. They venture through the streets, stopping eventually at a shop that sells handmade jewelry for bargain prices.

Early in the morning is now 'late' for the man who once answered to the address of Sir Jor Aeldan. He rises early and retires late, sleeping less than he can recall ever doing so except in times of illness or restlessness.
Prison life did not agree with him in a number of respects, but not only did he survive it, but some of the habits that became instilled in him were actually for the better. Like the fact that despite six hours of sleep at most, he's fully rested. It was not an easy life, those past fifteen years.

He's coming down the way, apparently of a mind to do a little examination of wares himself, but it's not the sole purpose behind why he's awake at this hour. Not only is it a biological habit, now, but it's proven to be the best time of day to plan out his affairs, like that business about income… and getting used to what's changed in fifteen years.

Sophie speaks with the vendor for a short while, conversing about the various wares on display. She has a smile on her face, though the expression is partially hidden by the hood of her opulent dress. Eventually and with great glee, the shopkeeper hands over an obviously fake golden necklace. In return, the woman in gold and red stamps her finger against a pad, before finally parting ways. Her and her guard step idly through the streets of the Grand Esplanade, admiring the small token she only recently purchased. Suddenly, the sound of hooves crack against the ground just off in the distance, a carriage barreling through the street at a dangerous pace. The vehicle has veered off course and charges through the pedestrian traffick. Thankfully, everyone has managed to evade the approaching danger…except for a singular individual. Sophie's thoughts are on other considerations, when that horse-drawn carriage begins to approach directly in line with the unwitting royal.

The thoughts of Sophie Alexandra Sauveur may be on other matters, but the thoughts of Jor Aeldan are in the here and now… as odd as that can be sometimes. For example, shops and cafes he'd visited regularly have been replaced by others, and even those few that have survived the test of time are remarkably different, to his memory.

When the commotion down the street catches his attention, and it does - some habits didn't die even after fifteen years, others such as watchfulness were augmented - when he catches something in the air and sees a horse-drawn carriage careening dangerously through the crowd, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is a full volume yell, aimed at the people in the path of that out of control vehicle:

"LOOK OUT!" Those are some powerful lungs, when they want to be, that authoritative tone erupting for the first time in over a decade. It almost surprises even him, but just as quickly, he's moving towards you at a full run.

Because you're about to not-quite be tackled out of the way.

Those powerful lungs almost certainly saved a number of lives, as people flung themsleves from the path of the barreling carriage. Yet Sophie fails to do the same, far too distracted to save herself. Caedmon, while attentive and ready to rescue his ward, fails to follow through. Instead, a tall woman flings herself away from the carriage, slamming into Caedmon and sending the both of them to the ground. Sophie, without someone to save her, turns uncertainly towards the stampeding noise of hooves upon cobblestones. She blinks, eyes widening in shocked horror. Stunned, she cannot bring herself to move an inch, when all of a sudden she is tackled to the ground as well. She rushes through the air, screaming a shrill cry of distress. The horse zooms by, carriage in tow, scrambling frightfully into the distance. The sound dissipates and the vehicle becomes a mere speck on the horizon. Caedmon manages to maneuver himself from the individual that barred him from completing his job, looking down at the mess that composes his ward and a curious stranger. Sophie looks up at Jor, face even paler than usual, pinned beneath him and whimpering softly, golden hair in disarray and tears streaking her delicate cheeks.

Spitting a lock of hair out of his mouth that escaped from its confinement during all of that, Jor immediately turns his attention to you, quickly regaining his feet and offering a hand upwards, to help you regain your feet. His attention is a bit split, however, watching that carriage go by with a distinct twitch to his mouth. A vexed sound, almost a growl, suddenly escapes his lips, but one opportunity vanishes in the wake of another, this out of fashion man (for now! really!) focusing his attention fully on you.

"My apologies for the rough treatment," he says, his speech returning to that remarkably softer tone as he endeavors to assist you back to your feet. Those few words are as much for your obvious protector as they are for you. He procures a clean cloth from one of his pockets, all folded up and thus far unused - you never know when it comes in handy, plus, his former work for the Watch made it clear that typically someone would need it, so he's prepared.

Sophie feels the wind of breath fall across her face, when the overwhelmingly heavy weight of her saviour rises from her form. She uncertainly takes the man's hand, unsteadily getting onto her feet with both the stranger and Caedmon's assistance. She sniffles softly, "t-thanks…" She shakes her head quickly to his words, "i-it's…it's fine. You…y-you saved me…" She rubs her cheeks of tears, trembling in fright, her heart racing in her chest and her face a sickly pale even now. Caedmon, on the other hand, frowns lightly to the apology, ignoring Jor and softly offering, "you are certain you are right, my Lady? Please, we should get you back home, get you looked at by a doctor. Your mother will be horrified." She shakes her head, patting down the skirt of her dress despite the shivering in her limbs, "I-I'm fine…w-what Mother d-doesn't know, w-won't hurt her…" Amber eyes finally settle on the man that tackled her from the oncoming carriage, trying to give him a shaky little nervous smile, "thank you…" She gratefully takes the clean cloth, dabbing her cheeks to dry them of tears.

Inclining his head at the response, again taking a moment to frown in the direction the carriage had gone, Jor lets out a breath. He doesn't look terribly apologetic over apparently accosting a noblewoman, despite the reasons why. Perhaps a slight twitch at his mouth when Caedmon addresses you as 'my Lady', but for the most part he withdraws slightly to provide a semblance of privacy in your affairs. He'll spend the time analyzing the aftermath, searching for other passersby who might have fared worse than being shove-tackled out of the way, giving you those seconds to compose yourself somewhat better.

It's pretty obvious he hasn't put it together yet that the face in front of him was just recently on the news making an impassioned broadcast.

Sophie remains just as silent as her rescuer, taking the chance to clean herself up after the sudden fall. She draws down her hood, revealing silken golden brown tressesm doing her best to arrange those locks as they once were. She dabs at her cheeks a bit more with the provided bit of clean cloth, sniffling softly and trying to calm her intensified nerves. Finally, after her heart returns to some semblance of a normal beat, she gifts the cloth back to the man, "thank you again…" Sniffling once more, she uncertainly asks, "may I know the name of my saviour, Mister…" She pats down the front of her dress a bit more, hoping against hope that Mother will not notice the stains before she can clean them away.

"Jor Aeldan," he replies, taking back the cloth from your hands without even a hint of distress over the state it's now in, touching his bare hands. Sanitation is a wonderful thing, and laundering. Plus, he has spares where that first little folded square came from. He takes in your appearance a touch critically, and quite suddenly his brows lift, but he doesn't speak on it, instead absently watching both you and other citizenry who are in perhaps a similar state.

"This should probably be reported," he finally says, though it's more a to-self mutter than an actual observation meant for you or for Caedmon. "If it wasn't already," he adds a second later, again glancing at where that speck long since vanished.

Sophie smiles lightly, "well, Mister Aeldan. I am very glad to have met you. If you were not there, I do not know what I would have done…or what would have happened to me." She glances around when Jor does the same, commenting, "it seems that none here are particularly injured…it would seem the Six are watching over us this morning. And a particularly heroic man with a loud voice." She blinks at the suggestion to report what happened, before licking her lips and casually pleading, "I agree. It would be best if this incident was known and whoever let their horse loose questioned. Still, I think it might also be best to keep the fact that I was nearly run over between just the two of us. Don't you, Mister Aeldan?" She looks to Caedmon, "and you too, of course, Sir Barrow." The guard bows his head and declares, "your wishes are my command, my Lady. But if you would allow me, I strongly urge we at least find a doctor to look at you." Sophie sighs, "if we must. Later though. I would like to speak with my savior." She waves a hand, beginning to step through the streets, "please, walk with me, Mister Aeldan."

Both eyebrows twitch again, the graying man inclining his head and about ready to include more than that via genuflection, but in the end he lets it be. Something in your words catches him from doing just that, and so instead he takes the opportunity to fix his own hair, resecuring it behind his head and taking up position on the other side of Caedmon, which is to say, with your guard between us. "If you like, Lady," are his simple, quiet words as he. His eyes still can't help glancing about, where some citizens pick up discarded packages and purchases in the wake of their sudden egress from the walk way, but despite the obvious hint of disapproval over the cause of the scene from nearly a minute ago, there is a touch of curiosity that slightly softens Jor's dark, hard eyes when they rest upon you. No questions, though, just silence from him. He's content to let you lead the conversation.

Caedmon is quite content that the stranger take up position on the far side of their semi-formation. He remains at the center, his hand kept carefully on the pommel of his sword while the trio walks through the streets of the Esplanade. Sophie smiles, "I would indeed, Mister Aeldan." After a good deal of absolute silence, perhaps even awkwardly so, she eventually decides to speak once more, "so tell me, are you a local of this fine city? You certainly do not look like most people I have seen, least of which because of your…rags." She chuckles lightly, "I take that back. Your rags remind me of a particular groom I know." She shakes her hand in the air, "but no matter. I am curious to hear your story. So, Mister Aeldan, might I be dignified with knowledge of my savior?"

If it hadn't been for that prison term, his face would be betraying his state of mind and more right now. Instead, you're given a curious glance all the same, that not-quite glare subdued in the face of that, but by the time you're done speaking, his mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. No, it's not a question he really wants to answer.

"I think my Lady's time and efforts might be better served on meeting with that doctor than my story," he finally says, not fully able to keep the abruptness from his tone. "Most of what there is to know about me you can doubtless find on the information network." Your comment about 'rags' passes by the same way the wind does, here and gone and given about as much mind.

"Forgive me, but it's a personal matter, and not one I am keen to voice aloud, particularly in public. I don't particularly wish to be reminded of it."

Sophie lightly lets out a soft gasp when responded with such cold abruptness. She stops in her tracks, no longer walking the streets of the Esplanade. Instead, she frowns at the man and stares with piercing amber eyes into his own. For an extended moment of quiet, she remains that way, not even glancing an inch in any other direction. Finally, when offered an apology, she reluctantly nods her head, though a frown still mars her features, "if you wish to keep your past private, Mister Aeldan, I can respect that." She begins walking again, "however, I would like to know more about you. Surely there is something you could share? Besides, were I to learn of you on the Infosphere, I suspect some details would be lacking that you could provide yourself."

His mouth opens, perhaps of a mind to retort, but it closes just as abruptly, a hint of a grimace appearing. He regards you, those dark eyes intent on your own somewhat disheveled features - no one comes out of that unscathed, after all. Even then, it's some time before his lips part again.

"I did some work for the Watch for several years in the past. It was over a decade ago, but it seems I'm not unused to situations like that runaway carriage. I did a bit of other things in what spare time I had, music and training mostly." Though he hasn't quite gotten back into the habit of the latter, as of yet, to say nothing of his past tense usage there, something he doesn't seem to be aware of, yet.

Sophie bravely faces the man no matter the darkly intent gaze that settles upon her disheveled form. She stares, all but glares, into his own eyes, waiting patiently for a reply. At last she hears him acquiesce to her demands, nodding her head slowly to his words. She begins walking once more before responding in turn, "I must say, you appear far more fit than someone that worked a few years for the Watch a decade ago. Do you train others to fight?" Perhaps a bit playfully, she waves in the direction of her guard, "could you defeat Sir Barrow, do you think?" If Jor looks his way, Caedmon glowers threateningly, as though challenging the man to declare he very well could. Either way, Sophie adds, "what is it you are not telling me, Mister Aeldan? If you wish me to be honest, I am providing you the opportunity to impress me. So, impress me."

If the fact you don't back down from his unintentionally harsh stare impresses him, it certainly does little effect to the intensity of his gaze. His mention of having been part of the Watch some time ago should at least explain why those eyes are restless, if not necessarily why he looks ready to floss his teeth with a nail and finish with the nail the one looking the worse for wear.

When you mention his physical stature, you actually earn a hint of amusement, and Jor's eyes travel to Caedmon, openly assessing Sir Barrow with a distinct disregard for how threateningly the man may glower back. "I rather doubt it," he admits calmly. "I would need several weeks - time we probably don't have - to even hope to get to where I used to be. Sir Barrow would likely win soundly, even if I /do/ look like I can handle myself," he states with a bit of wryness towards the end.

And then you have to go back to what he's not telling you, and there he too reverts to closed-mouthness, lips tightening once again. "What I have to say on the subject, Lady, will impress no one."

Caedmon visibly relaxes when Jor admits he would likely lose to him in a fight, even going so far as to offer a silent smile in return. For Sophie's part, she sighs softly and nods her head, "yes, we should have another six months. But instead we are already deep in battle with the Hostiles." She licks her lips, "will you fight the Hostiles, Mister Aeldan? You certainly look fit enough to serve in the military quite well enough, and more soldiers are always sorely needed." At the reversion to closed-mouthness, she frowns and replies, "a pity then. You seem quite the curious sort. I do very much wonder what you have done to both appear so…capable yet have nothing to impress others with." She sighs, "but…if you wish to keep silent on the matter, I will allow it. Just know that whatever your past, I am grateful for what you did in saving my life."

Shooting a slightly rueful look at Caedmon - it really was the truth - Jor's attention leaves Sir Barrow for a time. He does not offer words to your gratitude, but rather inclines his head to you, a deep nod almost a bow. That closed-mouth nature will take hold then, hands clasping behind his back as he walks near to you.

"One thing I will say, Lady, is that curiosity is as sharp a weapon as what Sir Barrow here carries, and one that is not so easily controlled. It can turn upon you all while you believe it to have been unsheathed and pointed at a different target. A lesson I learned several years ago.

"For the Hostiles," Jor continues, "I would fight if possible, though I am not certain how much use in the days to come I will be. It will likely not be a decision I make, I think. That isn't to say I will sit by and watch, either."

Caedmon watches with surprised delight when the man actually respectfully bows to his ward. Sophie smiles in return, before continuing on her way through the streets, "that is an intriguing way to look at curiosity, Mister Aeldan. Perhaps you are correct. If my life went a different way and I was not allowed to pursue my curiosity, I would live a life of boredom and helpless torment. Instead, I am a talented artist, if I may say so myself, and a proficient forester." She smirks at the response to her recruitment question, "how could you say such a thing, Mister Aeldan. You are at least as strong as most men I have ever seen, and you have had more experience with combat than most citizens. As a former member of the Watch. I am sure you would be welcome as a soldier, if only you applied for the position." She taps her chin thoughtfully, "I think, for your generosity and compassion in saving my life, I will offer you a boon. You hardly wear the most respectable of clothing, Mister Aeldan. What would you say to a new set of garments to wear?"

This time, Jor's mouth closes from being on the verge of responding for a completely different reason: he coughs, and not because of allergies or illness so much as surprise. Your boon earns you a stare, brows rising a moment before he gives himself a shake. Needless to say, it takes him a moment to reply.

"If you are that determined to demonstrate gratitude, I will not refuse you," he says. "I've been thinking on the matter a bit myself. For the rest, Lady…" There's a faint suggestion of a pause, "I think you'll find that criminals like myself aren't seen in the best of light as you may make it sound, regardless of ability. I have no desire for everyone to have to watch their backs around me, wondering if they think I will do something to them when we must all be focused on other matters instead."

Sophie nods her head firmly, "good, then it is decided. We shall find a proper outfit for a Citizen of Haven, and not the embarrassing rags you decided to cover yourself with this morning." She blinks, before a smirk curls along her lips, "it would seem you have inadvertantly admitted to your…mystery, Mister Aeldan. A criminal then. That explains why you were so reluctant to tell me." She arches a brow lightly at the further explanation for declining recruitment, "while it pains me to say this, I can understand your reasoning. Still…" She licks her lips, "what have you done to deserve the name Criminal, Mister Aeldan? I would very much like to know, and then we can speak of other matters entirely thereafter."

Jor, continuing in his walk next to Caedmon, does not immediately answer the question. Instead, he continues to take in the familiarly unfamiliar sights of Landing, eyes lingering here and there for a time, just random observation, trying to reconcile what he sees with what he recalls. It's not a great deal that aligns.

"Nothing," he replies shortly. "And now I've told you everything you should want to know, the rest becomes a matter of that curiosity we just discussed." That he says with a direct look, trying to lock eyes and probably stirring Sir Barrow a little bit closer to the point of intervention.

Sophie laughs lightly, "ah, and the plot thickens. If you are indeed a criminal, Mister Aeldan, then I hardly think it was caused by accident." She smirks, "what if I told you that I would risk curiosity in order to learn why you would label yourself innocent, when the law has decreed you guilty?" She stares into those eyes unabated by the intensity, her own filled with a different, more curious sort of wonder. Caedmon, on the other hand, does indeed stiffen slightly at the locked gazes, his hand tightening just a bit on the pommel of his sword. No matter, he remains absolutely quiet, doing little more than striding closer to his ward while Sophie begins veering in the direction of a shop that sells sturdy men's clothing aimed largely at casual hunters.

There's a quick glance around. One could forgivingly call it feral, in the way Jor's eyes cast about left and right, up and down, before and behind him, before he's quite suddenly striding quickly ahead, if only to whip around and glare down at you.

"I lost fifteen years of my life and nearly everything good about it because of /curiosity/, lady," he nearly growls, a growl if only because he's trying to keep his voice down so others can't hear. "So when I say /leave. it. alone./, I mean exactly that. I will speak no more of this, and you will not interfere!"

Sophie furrows her brow uncertainly as the man begins acting strangely, looking all over the place with a wild glint in his eyes. Caedmon watches him with a deep frown, his hand gliding down from the pommel of his sword to its hilt. When Jor stamps forward and turns to directly face the royal, Sophie looks up at him with worried surprise. Her face pales and her amber eyes threaten to brim with tears, heart thumping in her chest. Caedmon's blade slips halfway from its scabbard until Sophie halts him with a placating hand, "f-forgive me, Mister Aeldan. I-I…I a-am simply t-too curious, I think. I…I w-will leave it alone, a-as you say." She licks her lips, "please, let us r-return to more pleasant conversation?" She pauses for a moment before asking once clearing her throat a bit, "y-you mentioned music? What do you play?"

As Caedmon may well note, you are not the only one who is in a state of agitation. The glowering man standing before you is breathing a touch faster, completely unaware of it at first, such is the level of focus he fixates upon you. Jor Aeldan doesn't speak at first, but takes a moment to calm himself, deep breaths filling his thick form before, finally, he acquiesces again, control of himself regained. He does not offer apology to his behavior just now, however, instead opening his eyes to regard you with a little less fire than the inferno that blazed down just a second past.

"My mother and father were rather devout; they, and I, prefer the styles used in more ceremonial undertakings." That comes out in the level tone he was using when first you and he began to speak, which is to say after he shoved you away from being trampled.

Sophie tries her best to calm herself after the abrupt change in disposition, taking a few deep breaths and fiddling nervously at the fabric of her opulent dress. Hoping to continue along a different subject, she offers shyly, "so you enjoy playing music one might hear during the Chantry's events? I must admit to rarely attending them myself, though I-I would be interested to hear you play them nonetheless…" She licks her lips anxiously, "w-which instruments do you favor, Mister Aeldan?" At the same time, she maneuvers to even further distract the both of them, walking through the examples of the shop's work as they rest on various nearby stands and mannequins. She places her hand on a particular ensemble, adorned by a false figure of a man. The outfit includes a durable brown leather jerkin over lightly embroidered padded shirt, as well as dark green velvet pants and ankle-high brown boots.

It is apparently easier for this man to regain control of himself than it is for you, as despite the fact his face has returned to that not-quite glowering gaze, Jor's speech is composed. No stammers, no worrying at the lips.

"My voice and the violin," he finally says, this while he engages in a moment of study for the mannequin in front of which you've stopped. He frowns at it, uncertainty wrinkling his forehead for an instant, a hand coming up to absently scratch at one stubbled cheek while partially concealing the frown on his lips. "Is that really what people wear these days?" he asks, half to the air. It's more a thought spoken out loud; he doesn't look at you. "Why not just go naked?" A faint half-shake of the head.

Sophie keeps trying to return to her normal self, though the thought of being spoken to so harshly is difficult to erase from her memory. Nevertheless, while Caedmon still watches the man suspiciously, he has managed to ease his blade back in its scabbard, hand gripping its steel pommel. Sophie blinks in mild surprise, "a violinist? Y-you'll have to sing and play for me sometime. I would very much like to hear it." Somehow, she actually manages to laugh, "people wear a great many things these days, Mister Aeldan. If you wish to skip around naked through the streets though, you are welcome to get arrested again…" She blinks, licking her lips, "s-sorry, I didn't mean…" She sighs, voice cracking as she pushes to continue with the earlier topic, "y-you do realize that I intend to purchase the outfit for you, do you not? I would think you should not be so picky." She chews at her lower lip a bit, until she finally asks, "if you see something better, I would be glad if you pointed it out, Mister Aeldan." She waves her hand vacantly at another mannequin, with a black coat and blue vest, "perhaps that would satisfy your preferences?"

Your request for him to sing and play earns you something you might not expect: a rueful chuckle. "I'm afraid I'm so far out of practice on both. MAVIS was… not kind on my attempt to practice the previous night." He's willing to try and keep things on a more neutral ground, since the conversation has again veered away from painful, personal details. That doesn't make now any less difficult; it's yet another reminder of what he lost. This is all said and done as his eyes take in the second suggestion with a hint more interest than before.

"The first, there, I can see while training, perhaps, but this seems more suitable for out of door wear." He pauses a moment, frowning at the black-and-blue adornment, before, "Do they have the vest in gray?" He asks, gesturing. The rest will do, goes the unspoken statement. Except the hat.

Sophie flinches, actually a bit startled to hear the man chuckle. Yet when she recognizes the sound, she visibly relaxes more than she has since earlier in the morning. She even smiles and asks, "Mavis? Well, no matter, I am certain with just a few weeks of practice, you will return to your talents as easily as before. I am very curious what you sound like when you sing, even more than the sound of your fingers upon the violin." She furrows her brow at the outift adorning the mannequin, noticing how comical the black tophat might be on the burly man. She slowly nods her head, "I am sure they do." She motions towards the vendor, an aging man in bronze and white finery, asking him Jor's question. He responds by replying that there is indeed a vest in gray, as well as white and brown and green and red. Sophie turns towards her rescuer, "will this outfit do then, Mister Aeldan?"

"It will." He has to catch himself from adding words that might leave a suggestion of inadequacy when none was really intended. It's not your fault he's behind the times on what people wear. "I would prefer simply …" he gestures to his body proper, which is to say neck down, "… merely that part. The rest I don't need." Which is to say, not the hat or the cane, even if he did look at it consideringly for a moment. As droll as it might be to use it as a weapon to slap someone silly at a social function, the chances of that are both low and not in the near future. "And thank you," he finally adds, if a bit belatedly on the subject of what you are about to do.

Sophie smiles, nodding her head, "good." She motions for the shopkeeper, "I will buy that suit there, with a gray vest, no hat, and…" She glances back, just to be certain, "no cane either." She shopkeeper replies, "very good, my Lady. Let me just get the pad." Sophie nods her head, "of course. And you may make all the sizing measurements with Mister Aeldan here. Unfortunately, I imagine I am expected back at the palace soon." The vendor bobs his head, "certainly, my Lady." He then disappears within the tiny office of his store, while the royal turns about and shakes her head, "thank you, Mister Aeldan. You saved my life. Paying you back with a set of clothes is the least I can do." When the vendor returns, she stamps her thumb against the electronic screen, before amber eyes flicker to Jor once more, "I must be away, but it would greatly please me if you visited the Matthias Towers once you have regained your musical talents. Simply ask for Sophie Saveur, and they will take you to me." At that, she faintly inclines her head, before slowly heading through the streets of the Esplanade, in the direction of the palace. Caedmon quickly follows, though he gives a stern warning glance in passing, hand remaining idle as always upon the pommel of his sword.

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