[ WP ] Son , what are you doing ?

Captain Aeron Pike looked down at the boy with his hand halfway down the Cygnaran officer's coat pocket. A brown eyebrow rose in query as the youth's eyes widened in surprise. The child could n't have been more than ten, his blond hair tied back with a greasy piece of string. His clothes were ragged and filthy, the knee of the right leg threadbare and torn. The boy tried to withdraw his hand, to make quick his escape, but the captain grabbed a hold of the lad's slim wrist like a striking adder, his grip like an iron vise. 
 
 `` Lem me go, Ah've dun nothing wrong!'' The lad yelped, his accent that of the wharves and slums of Caspia. 
 
 ``'Course you did n't, son.'' Captain Pike answered in his almost exaggerated West Midlunder, swallowing the't' in his sentence. `` You just happen to find your hand in my coat is all, right?'' 
 
 The boy, grasping at the pitiful straw the officer provided him nodded fervently. 
 
 `` Aye, Suh. That's it. Here I was, walking'long the street when outta the blue, I trip! You were faced just right for my hand to slip inside quiet as a mouse like. Yeah, that's it.'' 
 
 The boy flashed a smile worthy of a politician and made to pull his arm free only for the officer to keep his firm grip on the lad's wrist. That smile fell as quick as it came. 
 
 `` When's the last time you ate, son?'' 
 
 The boy's gaze was level as he answered the uniformed man. 
 
 `` Two days ago.'' 
 
 `` Well then, that settles it. Come, let's get you fed.'' 
 
 Pike's grip shifted from the boy's wrist to his shoulder, guiding him through the throng of people with a steady hand. If any of the wealthier citizens were put-off by the street urchin in their midst, they wisely kept their thoughts to themselves. Most were Caspian or Midlunder or else Thurian though a few Rhulfolk, dwarfed by their human neighbors were also visible. Carriage bore the well to do along the cobbled stones, the clatter of iron shod hooves loud on the slick stones of the road. All manner of buildings sold an endless variety of goods and services. 
 
 Apothecaries sold tinctures and powders, the seemingly prerequisite stuffed alligator handing from the rafters. That fact had always unnerved the Cygnaran officer. He had fought against the Gatormen; the large and incredible ferocious reptiles were growing bolder in carving out a territory for themselves around Blindwater Lake. The though of a stuffed being was a tad unnerving, even for a warcaster who fought the Cryx and saw their nightmarish monsters firsthand. 
 
 Clothes stores sold to the nobility, their wide bay windows showing off the latest in Caspian fashions. A popular outfitter did brisk business; the Mercian League was funding further expeditions to the continent of Zu to the South and many otherwise landless nobles saw it as a way of making their mark in the world. Further along, a series of gentlemen's clubs stood with their classical era columns and arches of white marble and grey granite. 
 
 `` What's your name, son?'' 
 
 The boy said nothing, allowing silence and the din of the crowd to swallow the space. 
 
 `` Killian. Just Killian.'' 
 
 `` Well son. I'm Captain Aeron Pike, warcaster in His Majesty's Army.'' 
 
 The boy inhaled sharply. 
 
 `` You are?'' He asked incredulously. 
 
 `` Yep. Come on, we're almost here.'' 
 
 Leaving it at that, the soldier smirked. His gut instinct seemed to have been right.
