Phine, at fourteen, was the youngest son of Hile, and already far more than a boy sent on errands. He carried himself with energy and curiosity, alert to the world around him and eager to understand how it worked. Phine followed instructions readily, but he was never satisfied with blind obedience. He wanted to know why a task mattered and what it revealed about the people involved.
Though young, Phine studied as diligently as he labored. He absorbed lessons in history, geography, and politics with a seriousness that often surprised the adults around him. He listened closely to conversations meant for others and remembered details most overlooked. On the road, this attentiveness served him well. Phine had an ear for language and an instinct for speech, quickly picking up regional dialects and mannerisms. With practice, he could blend into unfamiliar places and even pass as a local when needed.
More remarkable still was his ease with people. Phine possessed a natural warmth that disarmed suspicion. Hardened merchants, cautious travelers, and wary strangers found themselves speaking freely around him. He asked questions without threat and listened without judgment. Trust came easily to him, and once given, it tended to stay.
In a world increasingly shaped by fear, rumor, and guarded motives, Phine stood apart. His gift was not strength or authority, but connection. Friendship followed him naturally, and loyalty often grew where none was expected. Even at fourteen, it was clear that Phine’s greatest asset was not what he knew, but how effortlessly he made others feel seen, heard, and valued.