The Inquisition: Burned Hands

Part 1

When she was a young girl, she would often fantasize about coming here and learning about the sun, moon and stars. The cosmos always fascinated her and felt an intimate connection with the infinite abyss. She didn't have much else growing up. Her parents worked hard enough as dockworkers to survive. However, they were too interested in getting high off moondust to really worry about what their child was doing, so she found her own ways of staying occupied. Sometimes when there was an issue with Lambarro up North, the smaller vessels would dock at her little town of Duloc, and she used to go and see all the strange, new people from faraway lands, and come up with stories of where they came from and what they were here for. At night, she used to stare up into the sky and give the stars her own names, and their own legends. They were her first friends and she wanted to visit them so, so bad. But time moved on, and she grew older. She grew more and more cynical and spiteful of the world for being born the way she was. Impoverished, hopeless, and with non-existent parents who never cared to raise their daughter properly. Towards the end, she was providing for them, by stealing from the docks, fencing what she found, and doing whatever small "jobs" she could.

Or at least that was until the Teraoune Royal Weaver's Academy hadn't approached her. The Academy, as it is more simply known, is located to the North East of Canestro, a few hour's walk beyond the city walls. It is technically an extension of the University but operates as a wholly separate body. Every year or so they search for young boys and girls who were between twelve and thirteen to see if the Nine Saints have gifted them with the ability to Weave the Veil, and when she was twelve years old, they visited Duloc. She was lucky enough to be plucked from a life of poverty and given an opportunity to really do something with her life. When it came time to sign her papers, she forged her parents' signatures. She didn't care whether she got their permission or not. She said her goodbyes, left a small pouch of coins and left. They were too dusted to care, and they never followed up on her.

She hadn't anticipated that this is where that path would lead, but she wasn't unhappy. Being a part of the Inquisition was a good fit for her. She neither wanted attention nor an uninteresting life. The city is built atop a hillside that precedes the escarpment to the Corona Mountain Range, and while the ground was levelled to build the main roads through the city, St. Tullios' was purposefully kept at a slightly higher elevation, though still lower than the peak of the Cathedral. She had to make her way directly north from this point to the other end of the district so that she can get to where the East Main Road bisects the Northern and Southern Districts. While the narrow roads and low lighting made it easy to find shadows to hide in and alleys to slip away into, it also made hiding from incoming patrols more necessary. There was always the chance of being ignored, but if they didn't, she'd end up having that escort to St Dorian's anyway, but this time with a little less favour. So, she tried her best to seem like she belonged. She had a good track record of keeping her nose clean and her name out of the records, and she could only maintain that by being meticulous about limiting her interactions to only that which were necessary. She passed three patrols, who thankfully acknowledged her without stopping her. She supposed the finer make of her clothes coloured her for more than a vagrant or a thief.

The streets were wide enough to maybe let four people walk alongside comfortably, but she tried to stick to one side of the street, which meant she could walk underneath balconies and awnings in case anyone was still awake and wistfully staring out the window- a favoured pass-time of the chronically bored. These were not the upper nobility that had great mansions and sweeping estates, but more of a humble bourgeoisie of merchants and shop owners. Much of their business was condensed to operations within this city and surrounding areas up to the Artura Hillscape. These people were not usually notable to the Inquisition unless they could be utilized as informants or as assets. Their business was usually innocuous. They lived in medium-sized houses, limited in lateral size by the surrounding terrain in favour of elevation, most of them being two storeys tall. They are the kind of people to make a fuss out of a strange, cloaked woman walking alone in the streets at night. It was just after dinner time, and while some houses had turned their lights out and had settled down for the night, some residents were still awake and the sounds of life, laughter, conversation and even some domestic squabbles could be heard through the windows. All echoes from a life she left behind.