Meeting Old Friends
As the party re-entered Umbros, seeking more information on the events that led to its vanishing, the group separated to cover more ground, and to admittedly take some time to themselves. Windallus, in any other capital, would've remained outside, as he'd been highly publicized as a pariah in most places that had trade with Sturmgard. However, Umbros had still been working on reestablishing routes. His deeds hadn't caught on quite yet, and while he wouldn't love if it stayed that way (far from it), he found it made his time here much simpler.
He had mostly been taking a walk on his own to clear his mind. While Ebarren had offered him a brief consolation, he was still deep in thought about having once again lost his father, his Specter having gone to rest amongst the heavens. He seemed to have nothing to his past anymore. And while some would find that freeing, all it did was remind him of how little he actually fit in to begin with even as he was praised.
But that was when he heard a scuffle in an alley. Some brief chatter and a low hiss. He masked the sound of his footsteps with his magic, and stared down the darkened alley to see a hooded Kendan leveling a crossbow at a robed and helmeted figure, holding far too much to adequately defend themselves.
"Alright, you lizard. Hand over what's in the sack, and we can move on, eh?"
That was a mugging if he'd ever heard one. Windallus mustered the deepest yet calmest tone he could muster as he called down the alley, standing in full view.
"Hello? What's all this noise for?"
He heard a stammer as the man in the mask turned around.
"A-ah, nothing, nothing to worry your head about! I was just talking with the Sharkazan here about a commission."
Windallus's eyes narrowed as he trained his eyes on the two. The Sharkazan spoke in her native tongue, in a feminine rasp.
"A liar, he is!" she said, terrified but determined to stand up for herself. "He was trying to steal back the food I bought from his friend, the con artist!"
"Exactly, it can tell you everything!" the hooded man said, apparently assuming that Windallus couldn't understand the Sharkazan language at all.
He would've smiled at the hole this man dug himself if he wasn't tired of this kind of thing by now. He could see the man very slowly, very quietly trying to level the weapon at him.
"...Right." the knight said, unamused. With a flash of silver against what moonlight could strike the alley, Windallus had thrown a knife with pinpoint accuracy. It didn't strike anyone, but to the man's shock, it cut the string to his crossbow.
"A-AAH! Th' hell-"
"Get out of here, never show your damn face around me or her again, and I'll consider leaving out your attempt to shoot me in my report to the guards."
With a stammer, the man bolted away past Windallus. And with that, Windallus walked forward, hands up and in the open, to reassure the Sharkazan he had no intention of harming her. She took a step back, at first, but as he got closer, she actually... dropped her bags.
"...S-... Silvur-hair?"
...
Something clicked in the former knight's mind as she spoke those words. Memories from his childhood. They were usually painful more often than not, but these were... sweeter. More hopeful. Memories of a small Rotblood no older than him, with those same purple feathers poking out and resting over one eye, that lacked the piercing orange gaze of all the other members of their tribe. That snuck him a bit of their food every so often. That showed him that goodness was possible in the world before even his father would rescue him.
"... Feathers?" he said, voice hitting a small, almost helpless-sounding register he hadn't had in months, the sharkazan language rolling off his tongue with ease despite having never spoken it in years. He fought back a tear before she sprinted towards him on deceptively long legs, hugging him with arms almost longer than he was tall.
"I had heard nothing since you were rescued from the camp! I'm so happy to see you doing well!"
He remained almost limp in her grasp for a moment before placing a hand to her back and returning the hug.
"I've... a very long story to tell you, with regards to what you've yet to see."
"Oh, yes yes I must hear more! I can show you to my home if you wish?"
He considered the offer briefly, though in the end his sentimentality overruled his practicality. He hadn't met a friend who he'd never once fought with in so long.
"...I would be honored, Yu'Kan. Allow me to help with your bags."