"Change was usually a hard thing to stomach for many. Even if it made life better for most, there would always be a few dogged people who persisted in their preference to the older ways they were used to.
Some countries tried to integrate these people peacefully, with tolerance and understanding. This worked at times, but at other times only emboldened those people to act out instead. As unreasonable as it may seem, they were unreasonable people to begin with.
Neither my predecessor nor me were that soft or understanding. We grew up in the streets, all too aware of what life was for most in the old ways. We would do *anything* to keep it from ever returning.
If that meant a few dozen throats had to be quietly slit in the night, then so be it. Hell, I'd do it myself if necessary." - Annelise Creussens, Governor of Zefirous, circa 36 FP.
Varsha Creussens had been many things in her over six decades of life. A beggar, a cutpurse, at times a whore or a courtesan. Later she moved to killing and assassinations, was good at it, even, but she grew tired of such a life before long, as it weighed down on her conscience.
She had tried to live a normal live, as a normal person. Something she went as far as faked her death for. For a short few years, she was contented with such a life, before it too, came to an end violently as her husband perished in war.
Even her attempts to raise her daughter to allow her a better life had not worked out that well. Despite all her efforts and hard work, her beloved child still ended up losing her life to a pissant whoreson of a noble. All she was left with was her young, half-crippled, blind granddaughter.
She had tried to make life somewhat easier for her grandchild even from her meager position within the city's criminal element's hierarchy, but in the end, it was her grandchild who surprised her.
That day many years ago when she found her grandchild in the overseer's room, having just put a knife in the deplorable man's throat, Varsha had been ashamed of her own reluctance, the unwillingness to dirty her hands once more.
She had changed from that day onward. From her low position, she quietly plotted to overthrow the rulers of the city's underworld, starting with the faction she was part of. Her grandchild had been a blade in her hand during those eventful years, as she had inherited her skills and had taken to the killing without any of the burdens that had plagued her long ago.
Over those years she had crawled up the ladder until she became the sole ruler of the city's underworld, a position she kept with a firm hand on the rudder. She used her position and connections to the black markets to get her grandchild a legitimate identification, one that would have allowed her to live outside the accursed nation they were born in. A better life where she could carve her own path.
Now, a decade after she had left, her granddaughter had returned. Older and more mature, yet at the same time, someone who had fully immersed herself into a life of violence, judging from the scars on her body and how she came as a representative from a mercenary company that was part of the army besieging the city.
The offer she had brought on behalf of her employer was almost too good to be true. Yet Varsha chose to take it, a gamble that her own grandchild would not have been party to such a deception which targeted her.
She was honestly surprised that the dwarves - the priests had always referred to them only as demi-human barbarians who supposedly feast on human flesh - had kept their promise to the letter. Not a single one of the stout, thickly built invaders pillaged or raped in the city, as they simply stood by and kept things in order.
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They had not even retaliated violently when a few people who were besides themselves had thrown themselves against them, as the dwarven soldiers had handled those people almost gently, if firmly.
When she was summoned in the morning to discuss the future governance of the city, she was surprised as she saw the how the dwarves distributed food to the poor, and how they had set up large field kitchens to feed them as well.
Varsha was nervous for the meeting, even if she had brought two of her lieutenants and Annelise - who had served as her assistant for a while - with her. She was surprised yet again to find herself in the presence of the Crown Prince himself, however, along with two grizzled old dwarves he introduced as Grafs - a dwarven noble rank equivalent to a duke in neighboring Posuin or Clangeddin - of Meergant and Bærengant, both high nobles of the dwarven kingdom.
The ensuing discussion was civil, and went beyond even her wildest hopes. The dwarves were committed to uphold the agreement they offered to her. She would be made regent of the town, after a five-year observation and probationary period.
They had even discussed matters that went further, like plans to repopulate the region. The dwarves had prepared for such an eventuality, and said that they had as many as twenty thousand farmers and workers who had volunteered to the new lands.
To that, Varsha had given her own counter-suggestion, which was to allow the poor of Zefirous to help handle all the now abandoned villages and farmland together with the dwarven immigrants, though under the condition that they were to adopt and raise a child orphaned by the war.
The three dwarves had conferred for only a short moment before they told her that it was a brilliant idea, and even proposed fo allow the dwarven immigrants to also adopt such children, to further integrate the peoples together. It was a suggestion she had never expected to hear, in all honesty.
Their amicable discussion lasted until the afternoon, before they finally excused themselves, though not before they scheduled another appointment the next day. Before she left, Varsha asked where the mercenaries her grandchild was part of lived, and they had pointed out the direction to her.
Varsha had told her lieutenants to return first and share the good news with the rest. She brought Annelise - who wanted to see how her once "big sister" lived - with her and headed to the barracks she was pointed towards.
When she reached the barracks, the sight that greeted her was an unexpected one. The large barracks was enough to easily accomodate two thousand soldiers. The mercenaries had made full use of that and brought their dependents and families there as well.
It was a rowdy sight with many children playing around outside the barracks, watched by people she assumed were their parents. They were a mixed bunch, people of every sort and race present in their midst
Varsha searched for familiar faces in the mixed group of people she could see, but in the end it was a familiar face that found her first instead. A tall, one-eyed woman jumped down from the roof of the barracks and landed nimbly near her, which surprised Annelise and almost made her jump.
"What brought you here, madam Mayor?" asked the woman. They clearly had expected that the dwarves would have held their end of the deal, which was indeed the case, and that Varsha would be the Mayor of the city soon.
"I'm just looking for… Elfriede," she replied as she mentioned her granddaughter's name, the one she had chosen for her when she left a decade ago. "Is she around perchance?"
"She's out with the captain," replied the one-eyed woman with a shake of her head. Then she looked up at the sky before she went on. "They ought to be back in an hour or two at most though, if you don't mind waiting."
"That'd be fine, thanks," Varsha replied. The one-eyed woman pointed at an empty bench and invited her to seat herself, and she did so. Annelise seated herself next to Varsha, her eyes still wide open in wonderment at the mixture of people from all sorts of races around her.
They spent the time waiting as they watched the children at play. It was an… enlightening experience about the other races, especially when a massive bear-like being that towered over them came over, just to crouch down and allow a bunch of the kids onto her back before she ran around the place with the kids whooping in joy. Many of the other kids had ran along with her. Some on all fours.
An indeterminate amount of time passed before Varsha finally spotted her grandchild returning, as she walked besides a tall man who looked like a large, predatory feline of sorts. Probably the captain the woman mentioned earlier.
Varsha was just about to stand and call out to her when one of the kids - a little girl she thought probably five or six years of age - that looked a lot like a miniature version of the captain had run to them and leapt into her granddaughter's embrace.
The child had called her "mother".