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Kedean was not even going in to fight. It was to retrieve only, and to speak to someone.

But apparently, Lady Fate had more in mind than that.

As Kedean approached, the first thing he saw from some distance was the gate guard, Bakasa, and another approaching at a walking pace, likely headed in for a round around the inner stadium—if it could be called that. In retrospect, Kedean couldn’t have said for sure whether or not he even noticed beforehand what would be the source of the abrupt eruption which occurred moments later.

He did see then — for a fraction of an instant — a figure which, for the fleeting moment he glimpsed it, he couldn’t immediately discern boy from beast for certain. Shaggy, small, and not colored — by the glimpse of fur or hair he saw — like any child he knew. Tucked up against the guard as it was, however, and in the proceeding howling and commotion that followed after, Kedean lost sight of it until he’d closed in on the scene himself—

A Yaeli child, half the size or less of even one of his aggressors, and pinned beneath a boot that probably weighed as much as he did.

He turned a stiff look on the pinning guard. “Ravas-”

“This thing attacked-”

Bakasa, still coiled on the ground, had quieted to simpering and groaning—and smelled of burnt flesh. Kedean frowned. “What happened?” he asked, stooping as he did and gesturing that Ravas remove his boot—which he did, with some reluctance—before Kedean gripped at the forearm of their target. In an instant, Kedean felt the heat of what could only be magic still radiating off of the smaller figure. His brow furrowed, but his grip didn’t release as gave the boy a small tug, encouraging their eyes to meet.

The Yaelian glow was not something Kedean was certain he would ever grow accustomed to.

“Relax,” he instructed. “You are not going anywhere. And no one is going to hurt you.” If any of the other guards disagreed with this assertion, they weren’t bold enough to challenge it. “Who are you? And what are you doing here.”

Kedean was less shocked than he might have been, given a different background. As it was, he had felt going in, the moment he had laid eyes on the boy after witnessing the explosive beginning of it all, that there was no telling exactly what he was going to get—but a ‘peaceful’ surrender was unlikely to be high on the list, no matter how he approached it. Still, the boy was evidently starving, and he wasn’t about to stand back and watch someone already so clearly teetering on the brink of self-destruction be beat to death by men he knew when there was something he could do about it.

None of that made it hurt any less when enamel dug into flesh, and his own teeth grit together, eyes pinching shut for a moment as a snarl slipped from between his teeth and he tried to determine if he’d broken a finger. No. Not yet. He dragged the boy to him. Not difficult, when he was clasped about him like a serpent and latched on besides.

“My name…” he said, speaking to the boy’s ear, “is Kedean. And if you release, I will feed you. But you must relax, because I do not like breaking promises…but it will be difficult to keep someone from hurting you if you do not.”

There was more going on about them. Help had been called for Bakasa, and several, now that the shock had simmered down, looked more intent on wanting some payback for the damage to their companion. But for this moment, Kedean’s present consisted of the teeth drawing blood from his hand and the emaciated boy to whom the belonged. While he was trapped to Kedean’s chest, no one approached.

Kedean was familiar enough with the concept of foodless children that he might have guessed the only part of his commentary likely to stick, but he did hope it would, and when the boy paused — and released — that hope was encouraged. Breathing out, Kedean shook his head at the newest arrival.

“No…” he said, keeping one arm’s grip on the boy to encourage him up as he stood, but shifting as he did so as to put himself nearer to the latest guard, edging the boy to a less accessible angle for the blade. “It won’t be necessary. You may return to your posts…” He glanced down. “And someone see to Bakasa. I will return later.”

Of course, someone managed to be offended.

“That rat burnt a hole in one of us! He’s assaulted the facility. You can’t just take him out of here like some kind of diseased mutt. He’ll have to answer for what he’s-”

“Why?” Kedean asked, the challenge a curt grunt of a question, and he met the speaker’s stare. “If you find a child threatening I encourage you to brush up on your training. There is nothing to be gained from interrogating him until he dies of exhaustion or starvation…” He gave a guiding tug to his company. “Come.”

Before anyone decides to further complicate things…

His morning had already become more ‘interesting’ than he had bargained for.

Kedean ignored the initial question. If he was mad, it was a madness more of society could afford to adopt, so far as he was concerned. But the truth of the matter was he could care less about dedicating too much focus to the anger of the guardsmen. It was periphery and a distraction, given the state of his newest unanticipated and temporary charge, who felt as though he would have bolted or attacked all anew if he’d had a scrap of energy left in him to attempt it.

Kedean watched with careful attention as it was, letting the boy take what independence he could in standing and bracing himself, but making certain he could catch if that limited strength failed. It would have taken no effort to carry him, but he could guess better by his temperament than to attempt it or even suggesting. For all his limited size and grossly depleted strength, there was a fierce vein of something there which Kedean might otherwise have identified as pride. Under the circumstances, perhaps it was only a tenacious and indignant will to exist in his own right.

Regardless, Kedean didn’t bother with questioning him or answering the parting demand thrown at his back. You can cover Bakasa’s treatment… He couldn’t technically afford it in a monetary sense, not without delving into higher-emergency and preciously guarded savings, which were minimal to begin with. But Kedean knew enough people that if he needed to, he could arrange to have the man seen to.

For the moment, however, it wasn’t his concern.

The going was slow, at first. He was not pressed for time, however, and felt no compulsion to push the boy any more beyond his comforts than he already was. So they walked, and he watched, making no immediate attempt at conversation but monitoring the boy’s weariness. It became evident before long that he was going to exhaust himself. It seemed for the moment, though, to be something of a fatefully encroaching need for rest and recuperation, such that instead of inciting argument or struggle, he simply waited until the growing weight (if minimal) on his arm slacked and the glow to the boy’s eyes dimmed as his lashes shut. He fell easily into Kedean’s arms.

The going was quicker after that.

Though the boy needed a bath, he more immediately needed sleep and sustenance. For lack of a better place to leave him for the moment, Kedean set him upon his own bed, freeing himself to begin warming the prior evening’s stew. There also looked to be just enough bread left for a portion, though he would need to visit market in the morning.

Kedean had no idea how long to anticipate before the boy’s waking—in his state, it could have been anywhere from moments many hours. Though he frankly didn’t suspect such a body could go without food much longer as it was, it wouldn’t have been surprising to him if his system had chosen to take the afternoon to hibernate. He wasn’t left to wonder long, however. Not but a handful of minutes after he had begun preparation did he hear the first stirrings of activity.

He ladled a full bowlful of stew and broth, and grabbed the remaining hunk of bread before heading towards the bedroom. While the boy might have come venturing eventually, he wasn’t in any state to be doing so, and if he had a bone of cooperative spirit in him, Kedean was ready to accommodate his recovery.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to have made it off the bed.

Kedean set his bowl on the small wooden table beside the bed, waving the hunk of bread low like bait before the boy’s nose. “Here.” And, for one of the most sure to be ignored pieces of advice he had ever given: “Try to eat slowly. It will be easier on your stomach.”

As the bread hung from his fingers and he observed, he couldn’t help but be struck again by how small the boy was. Although his bed sufficed, it wasn’t really big enough for him personally, but as compared to it, the foreigner was a curled dark blot of purple and brown, dwarfed by space, and with so many angles visible under his skin.

Kedean wondered how common such a sight was on the far shore. As common as here, or more so? Perhaps this one was a rarity, but seeing as he’d made it all the way across the sea, Kedean somehow doubted it.

The boy’s body language said more than words could. Hostile, guarded, quivering with exhaustion while still managing to raise his hackles at anything as though even the most recent source of his food was as likely to turn on him as the rest of the world. Kedean took a step back, giving the boy space to eat and resisting the urge to help with the bowl when it became too much for him. It didn’t look as though an approach would be appreciated, and it wasn’t as if he really needed to be taking the food in any faster.

If anything, it might help him retain some of the sustenance to be forced slower by some degree.

He folded his arms, watching while the boy coiled and waiting in silence until he managed to finish all he’d been given. Kedean didn’t figure he would get much out of him before then, and even after, it felt appropriate to leave him a moment to settle and digest. He took the time to fetch a pitcher of water. There was more of the stew at least, if not bread, but given the size of the body and stomach he was working with, he thought it best not to mention immediately.

“I have water,” he said instead when he re-entered the room. “If you are thirsty.”

‘Take it easy…’

The words came to mind when watching him, but remained unspoken as Kedean filled a glass and put it to the boy’s hand. He had had things to do in the day ahead — retrieve his pay portion for the last segment of fights he’d participated in, for one, the coin from which he would need for market the coming day — but it could wait for the immediate present. Some events simply happened when they did, and the rest of the world made room.

“You are in Jatine, Oba. My name is Kedean Akuwa. I work at times at the facility you attempted to enter this morning…and this is my home,” he said. “You are welcome to rest if you need…but I have some questions for you when you feel able.”

As malnourished as he was, Kedean was at least cognizant of the possibility that the child was older than he looked, and even if he were only a dozen summers, there was no special advantage to be gained from talking down to him, so long as he understood what was being communicated. It was possible the boy had been here for some time and knew already where he was, but it did not hurt to cover the bases and orient him just the same, particularly given the fact that under the circumstances, it was entirely possible the boy had only recently arrived or was for some other reason lost or disoriented.

His life had tested him to date, and if Kedean was to get any answers out of him, the first step would be convincing the child they could be on speaking terms and that he genuinely meant no harm. It might yet be a rough road to carve, but he would know soon enough.