The Golden Vein

Finn had never seen anything quite like Ul’dah.

The moment he stepped off the airship, the desert heat wrapped around him like a thick, dry cloak—unforgiving, but clear. The city’s golden spires shimmered under the sun like jewels, casting rippled shadows over sandstone streets and domed rooftops. Every wall was ornately carved, every corridor arched like a palace.

It felt like he’d stepped into the innards of a gilded beast—opulent, loud, and restless.

Finn was meant to head straight for the inn to settle in—but naturally, his path wandered. His eyes followed the scent of spice and sound of haggling, eventually drawing him into the winding paths of the Sapphire Avenue Exchange.

Bustling, busy, and utterly cutthroat.

He threaded through crowds of shouting merchants and strolling aristocrats until a commotion near a fruit stall caught his eye. A Lalafell—much older, with deep smile lines now twisted in panic—was shoved to the ground by a towering Highlander. Two more flanked him, all three clad in brass highlighted skirt and chainmail.

The merchant was begging. “Please—I paid last week—please!”

Finn narrowed his eyes.

A bystander nearby muttered to a companion, “Brass Blades. Collectin’ again. Bastards make rounds twice a moon now. No oversight.”

This wasn’t like the Drowning Wench, where even the rowdiest had lines they wouldn’t cross.
These men were abusing power. Publicly. Proudly.

Finn stepped forward, slowly but clearly. His eyes were sharp, voice calm.

“Is this how Ul’dah protects its people?”

The tallest Highlander turned with a sneer. “And who’re you supposed to be? Another bleeding heart come to play hero?”

Another added with a chuckle, “You’re gonna regret pokin’ your nose, boy.”

Finn didn’t reply. He simply rolled his shoulder, gripping the axe on his back, and slid it into his hand with a smooth pull.

The air grew tenser. The crowd edged backward.

That’s when he felt it—a sting, sharp and sudden, in his right shoulder.

His body locked.

His fingers slackened on the axe.

The edges of the world blurred.

He twisted slightly in confusion, just enough to see a shadowy figure melt into the crowd behind him. The dart in his shoulder shimmered with a faint, oily gleam.

A tranquillizer?

His legs buckled.

The last thing he heard before the world tilted sideways was the mockery in one of the guards’ voices:

“Told ya.”

Then the stone kissed his cheek, and everything went dark.