The half elf wandered along well-known avenues and quiet streets, not really paying attention to where he was going. He could have walked this path in his sleep. A boulevard finally spilled him into the square that held the market, and he paused to take stock of things. It was still relatively early, so the marketplace wasn’t terribly crowded yet. Sophian’s first stop was a fruit vendor.

“Mornin’, Sophi,” the vendor greeted him. He was a middle-aged, jolly man, always ready with a smile and a kind word for his customers. Sophian had met him ten years ago, when he was only eight, and had visited him faithfully every morning ever since. “What’ll it be for you this mornin’?”

“Good morning, Raul,” Sophian chirped brightly, surveying the selection of produce. “I think figs and dates this morning.”

Chuckling, the man scooped a handful each of the fruits into a small bag. “You and your Middle Eastern tastes. One’d never b’lieve you were French.”

Sophian laughed and took the bag, dropping payment into Raul’s outstretched hand. “Good. I try to distance myself from my family as much as possible.” He grimaced, and the older man shook his head.

“Wish I knew what those people got ‘gainst you, Sophi.”

“You and me both, my friend,” was the reply. “But I think I’ve given up trying to understand humans altogether. You’re just too weird.” Laughing, he ducked as Raul aimed a playful cuff at him and danced away with a word of farewell.

Noontime found him lounging at the fountain that sat in the market’s center. He had spent the morning shopping, talking to friends, and simply enjoying the spring day, and his tension had flowed from him like water. As he watched the imitation sky above his head, deep blue and dotted with puffy white clouds, he mused that May was a beautiful time of year, no matter where you happened to be.

His peace was shattered when a courier dressed in his House’s colors dashed into the market and made a beeline straight for him, calling, “Master Sophian, Master Sophian!”

The half elf in question cringed and lowered his gaze to the ground once more, casting a withering look over the messenger, who flinched visibly. “What?” he spat, irritated at being disturbed by anything that had to do with his family.

“Y-your mother,” the man stammered. “She… em… requests your presence… family emergency… very important…”

Sophian was about to make a sharp retort when he noticed the pair of guards standing at the edge of the square. So, it was important enough that Bergerette would send guards to make sure he came home. This could prove interesting, he thought to himself. Aloud, “Very well. I’ll be home shortly. And you can tell my mother that armed guards are not necessary.” Without another word, he stood and strode away, passing both courier and guards as if they weren’t even there.