At the same time, he was also one of the unfortunate.
Fleeing war was no vacation; the journey was fraught with hardship and danger.
So when he and thirty-odd other unfortunate souls, crammed into a rickety little cabin where breathing itself was a struggle, drifted into Twin Tower City, he was the last surviving member of his family.
He had never understood why so many of his countrymen still threw themselves into the fray when the odds were so hopelessly stacked against them.
Now alone, Lavin understood. There was no grand reason. If he were still in the City State, he wouldn't choose to leave either.
But he still lacked the courage to return to his homeland and face the enemy.
And so he loathed his own cowardice, hiding in the slums and living out his days in a listless haze.
Only news of the war back home could rouse him, however slightly, from his stupor.
However, since both warring parties were insignificant players on the continent, hardly anyone cared.
