The Beggar Chooses.
I deserve more than fate has handed me. It has taken me far too long to realize this. How is one to develop a sense of pride when one grows up in a place called "Beggars' Court"? When one is expected to be grateful to be allowed to live alongside one's inferiors because of parentage one did not choose?
My Teir'Dal heritage, diluted as it is, makes me superior in every logically measurable way to the full-blooded humans who scoff at me, and yet still they pride themselves on being "pure." I would sooner be half rubbish than pure rubbish. But it is the rubbish that runs this city, and so for all of my life I've had to grit my teeth and bear it.
In my adolescence, I briefly found meaning in the Ayr'Dal Brotherhood. I do not regret the time I spent eavesdropping and poisoning cups for them, as I learned many valuable skills, including that of following orders and rising in rank. I would say I even did my part in improving the perceived status of Ayr'Dal in Freeport from that of 'trash' to 'occasionally useful ruffians.' When we exist largely under others' bootheels, we often cling to those who are with us under the same heel.
But once I matured a bit, I realized that a feeling of fraternity with fellow half-breeds was a trap, lulling me into accepting my station. Even if I advanced to the top of the organization, I would still merely be Queen of Mongrels. I deserve more. And thanks to whichever Teir'Dal it was who deigned to visit my aging tailor mother when she was still young enough to earn money as a courtesan, the gift of magic, ambition, and high intelligence runs through my veins. I intend to make full use of it by rising through the ranks at the Academy of Arcane Sciences.
The best way for me to help my people is not to squat with them in Beggars' Court and commiserate with them about our station, but to rise above it all. To prove such an example of strength, intelligence, and resilience that I will earn the favor of the Overlord and accumulate the wealth necessary to afford dignified clothing and a home worthy of one of his most trusted servants. Only by rising to mingle with the highest of society can I truly change Freeport's attitude about my people.
When they look at me, they will no longer see "Ayr'Dal," but Caryl Vallo, Arcane Scientist and favored of the Overlord. And who will judge Ayr'Dal on sight when they have seen to what heights such a creature can rise, and how well she can mingle with the elite, when given the chance?
