Urda - A Squire's Story

The 'Ugliest Girl'

"When you choose one, be sure that she is not fair in the face. Her hair should be knotty. Mayhaps she should be a little stout too; good for work," Amma had mused on the subject, before shaking her head and abruptly adding, "Lejon, you mustn't take a pretty one. No. The ones who are blessed in the face always pay for it in some way; usually with lack of sense. Just look at your own mother."

The old woman had sniffed and then reiterated, "Chose the ugliest girl. She will make a fine Squire and axe-daughter."

The Ugliest Girl.

Leander had set out for Riften with that thought in mind. As ever, his pack and saddlebags were laden with fayre destined for the orphanage. Though this time he had packed even more; more to sweetened the vile old cretin whom /safeguarded/ the children. The satirically named Grelod 'the Kind'. The children whispered that she was part Hagraven. But there was unlikely any truth in it; though Grelod certainly possessed the look and the mentality to befit the accusation.

He had written to her preemptively with his plans; informing her that he wished to take a child to join the Chantry. To become a Squire of the Vigilantes. The child must be of good temperament and of decent age. He had hoped that she might've selected one or two who she deemed appropriate for the role.

But, as ever, Leander had expected too much of Grelod. Even if he was the most generous benefactor of Honor Hall, the old witch wasn't about to sweeten on his account.

"None of these brats are available for adoption!"

"It is not adoption, it is in service to the Divines," he had argued coolly in return. But the old woman remained unmoved.

"I don't care who's bloody name you claim to come in, you won't scare me into giving you some poor innocent."

"I wasn't trying to scare you," explained Leander, though now through gritted teeth. He never usually lingered in Honorhall this long; Grelod had the uncanny ability to make him lose his patience, and rapidly.

"I was merely..."

"Thank you for your kind donation, Knight of Arkay. But I believe you should be leaving us now," Grelod had interjected rudely, before gathering up the fruits of his donations and swiftly exiting the room; likely to count her spoils, and leaving Leander to quietly seethe in her absence.

For what it was worth, there never was a 'good time' to lay a hand upon Leander. But in hindsight Constance Michel's timing in which she reached out to rest a palm upon Leander's shoulder had been an exceedly bad one. The woman had meant to act in solidarity. Though, he shrugged her off like a horse ridding itself of a particularly bothersome fly and turned upon her with a hiss.

"And you can fuck off Constance Michel. You are compliant to her shit and you know it!"

"Grel-Grelod doesn't know any better, is all!" Constance had quaked in return, causing Leander to scoff. He might've turned on her again; had the raising of a little voice from the back of the room not diverted his attention.

"YOU LEAVE OFF CONSTANCE , YOU!"

The call hadn't been all that insulting; though, it was the boldness of that little, raised voice that caused him to give pause. His brow furrowed and he turned his gaze from the woman to the sad huddle of skinny children at the other end of the room.

"... Who said that?" He asked, looking amongst them as though the speaker might readily be seen. Who looked the boldest?

Though, the answer was none of them. All of the children remained squashed together; their gazes dipped and faces hidden behind unkempt hair. Leander was just about to give up hope that the previously courageous child had suddenly lost their nerve, when eventually, a red-headed girl shuffled forwards.