Hama Valon. Mountain Guard. A city created by channelers to work together for the good of all. Channelers intent on a better future. The very idea flew in the face of everything the Seanchan soldier knew to be true. Channelers set the Dark One free. They broke the world. Aes Sedai destroyed any chance at peace. The mantra felt hollow when he remembered the horror in Meilen’s eyes. Little Meilen, with her scraped knees and disordered braids. How could she possibly present such a threat?
Only one way to learn, really, and the idea terrified him. He had been in Hama Valon for nearly two weeks now, listening to the locals and asking questions, and still hadn’t quite gotten up the nerve to approach those who could give him real answers. There was one more place to look without putting himself in undue danger; he would explore there and then consider his options carefully.
Meal finished and mind resolute, the young man pushed himself to his feet and wearily slung his bag over his shoulder, twisting his other arm up and through the opposing strap with a grunt. Strange that he could wear armor all day and never notice, but carry it on his back and it instantly became a burden. Probably something to do with where the weight rested on his body.
Fantasies of a steaming bath followed by a lengthy massage briefly sidetracked Finn’s thoughts. He could get the bath at the inn he stayed at, but the massage seemed unlikely. Even after months of travel it still seemed strange that such accommodations were not included with his room, but it seemed impolite to argue that fact with his host. The lack of da’covale certainly had a profound impact on the quality of life in the Westlands.
Thoughts of Seanchan culture would not help him find the answers to his questions and neither would standing in a side street. The wanderer took a breath, then inserted himself back into the main thoroughfare. To the north he could see the Grey Tower. Although he had no intention of going there just yet, his destination lay near its grounds and thus he found himself staring at that glittering glass spire with fearful eyes.
He wanted knowledge, and the M’sanndane seemed like the next logical step. The university’s name roughly translated to “chance of knowing” in the common language...if one put the Old Tongue through a meat grinder and scrawled the mashed up results onto paper, anyway. Finn could forgive the ignorant phrasing, if only because he had paid enough attention since his arrival to know something of the building’s origin. Children could not be expected to know the Old Tongue. No, not children. Channelers. Meilen had been a child, however, and she could channel. Aes Sedai had to have been young at some point...
Swearing silently as his mind once again began to chase in circles, the Seanchan man worked his way through the city. He didn’t notice he had acquired a shadow.