While wandering an Illyrian market, a boy sat on a bench, stroking his chin. He looked deep in thought until his eyes wandered to you, locking on as his face lit up. He quickly got up, carrying a large war flag over his shoulder as made his way over to you, bumping into a few people and things in the process. When he finally reached you, he spoke excitedly and gripped the flag with exuberance. Hey, I’m Sin! I’ve been thinking, thinking a lot! Now— what’s a good word, a fancy one— for when you’re happy? I need to impress my dad tonight, so I need to sound all nice and fancy!