What a wonderful world it is.

The city burned, the night fires lighting up the sky. Dense smoke obscured all but the tops of flaming structures. The "city" was nothing more than a collection of huts and hovels. There were some rusted water tanks a midst them, but they were leaning dangerously due to the heat eating away at weakened foundations. The huts were made of mud and in a few cases, wood. The roofs were thatched with straw.  

Some of the fires were spreading from the thatches to buildings close to them, but they had little effect, only staining the pristine walls. The buildings were made of fire resistant asbestos concrete.

"Let these Kelek worshipers burn. They have brought nothing but trouble with them, with their filth and heathen ways." Ned glanced towards Jorah, who was staring at the burning hovels with something akin to fascination. He felt sour in his mouth. The Kalite ghetto had been at the outskirts of Alderaan for a long time. They had moved across the border from the war torn country of Khalistan, where different factions had fought for dominion as the official religion of the country. Settling at the edge of the metropolis, they had brought their meager possessions and settled in a slum. They traded handmade goods for petty prices and also provided manual labor to Alderaan.

"Why do these pests even live here anymore? Their squabbles have been decided. We should send them back to their country so that us good folk can live in peace." The conflict had ended, leaving a country laid waste by war, with no clear victor. Ned turned away in disgust. Looking around, he saw many people watching the ghetto from the porches in their buildings, safe. Their idle curiosity concerned him, for some reason. What was gnawing at his mind?

Yes, his daughter. Only day before yesterday, she had missed her bus from school. Naturally, being 7 year old, and a full "adul", she decided to head home on her own. On her way, she had fallen in a construction pit and got hurt with severe scrapes and bruises. Ned dreaded to think what would have happened if her classmate Jamal, walking by, had not heard her crying. He had somehow pulled her out and taken her to his hut in the eastern part of the ghetto. Jamal's mother had washed her wounds with their drinking water and dressed them with what clean cloth they could find. Ned had gotten to hear all about it when she had dropped Arya home at evening, the little girl cheerfully chirping about her accident, pain forgotten.
He had felt uneasy inviting the woman in his house, but Arya's mother had been overwhelmed with relief. Both he and Catelyn had been worried sick and had been calling the school authorities incessantly since afternoon. Dinner had passed in awkward silence, but he had noticed the Kalite had fine manners. Arya had been quite taken with her and the woman had been kind.

Sudden screaming jerked Ned out of his reverie. Through the fumes, figures were visible scurrying in panic. There was very little water available since the Kalites were not able to afford the immigrant taxes levied on the public services provided to them, taxes which the Alders were exempt from. Most buckets and pans were leaking. A sudden gasp made him turn around. His wife was standing at his back, an expression of...anxiety on her face, no doubt remembering Jamal's mother. She did not say anything but her shining eyes and clenched mouth were enough. Behind her, a crowd had gathered , standing with casual indifference, for the Kalites were not their own.

Followers of Kelek were a peaceful people, who wore turbans, while the women covered their faces with black cloths instead. They had their own tongue, but could speak halting Basic. They lived in extreme poverty and the slum was disease ridden. At dawn they blew conches to their God, thanking him for a new day. These customs and many others, while harmless, were a constant source of annoyance to the citizens and there was much friction between the cultures, mostly one-sided.  

Arya had also come to watch, and her adolescent mind was struggling to comprehend the sight. She was clutching his hand with fear.

Jorah was now sitting on the grass, eating a sandwich, his eyes trained on the flames. There was a flask of water beside him. A pattering sound announced Jamal running at breakneck pace, his tear streaked face black with soot. He was panting and fell before Ned, reaching for his hand. Ned recoiled in spite of himself. "Sir, plea-please help. Mother trap under wall. Ple-"; the sound of a slap echoed across the across the courtyard.

"Run on mongrel, and don't dare to touch him with your dirty hands," snarled Jorah. Shocked, Jamal started pleading again desperately. Jorah was raising his hand once more, when Ned caught him. He punched him full in the face and then grabbed his flask. Running, he went to the surprised people standing. He said, "We have to help them. We can not just stand by like dumb animals." Getting no response, he began shouting, "There are children and women there, for Christ's sake. Children! Catelyn, bring as many buckets as you can. Arya, help your mother." He raced with Jamal towards the slum and threw the flask's contents at the first burning house he met. His body seemed to be moving of its own accord, jolted into action, independent of his mind.  

Rushing to where Jamal pointed, he dragged his unconscious mother from under a collapsed section of the house, beating away flames with his shirt. He gave instructions to the rushing people. Taking off his shirt he hollered-

"Take all the clothes and beat the fire with them. You- clear the children and take them to the lawns." He organized the rushing Kalites into a whole, yelling instructions till his throat felt raw. The haze made his eyes water but he persisted. The next few hours were a blur of heat, haze and little flashes of pain. Little by little, the fire began to wall back. Meanwhile Catelyn had gathered some of her more liberal, if reluctant, friends and were treating the injured people, helping them with water and bandages. Somehow, they managed to isolate the burning parts and eventually the fire died down. Ned was surprised to see dawn creeping up in the sky. He had burns and scratches on his upper body, his vest long since reduced to scraps. Wheezing for breath, he tried to move through his exhaustion.

He saw the dead bodies being covered and lined up on the sides and felt an uncomfortable choking sensation...pain, in his neck. How many more could they have saved, if others had helped? They were still there, staring wide eyed at him. Catelyn had dark pits under her eyes and must have been feeling bone tired, but she brought a glass of water for him. Cool, clear water. Jamal was sitting in shock, glass eyed, while his mother wailed beside him. His father had succumbed to his injuries, with no professional helping.

The next morning, newspapers were full of accounts of how Ned Stark was to be given an award and a cash prize for "preventing the fire to spread to the city". The mayor was going to give an address the next day. Arya was jubilant. "Look papa, your photo! You are a hero now!". Ned merely sighed wearily.
Buried in the middle pages, was an announcement that residents of the "Kalite District" would be charged re-compensation for the damage done to the city due to the fire originating from their area.

"...the Kalite district has taken heavy damage, and the costs of rebuilding it are not justified. Therefore residents of that area will be relocated across the border and sent back to their homeland with well wishes." The mayor, a portly man with a pinched mouth, was standing on the podium, reading from his notes. There were many reporters with their cameras, and a large crowd outside the Parliament building.
"Now, to pleasant matters. Today, we are gathered to celebrate our head city engineer- Ned Stark, for his brave and commendable efforts in fighting the flames last night. Also, I would like to acknowledge the townspeople who assisted him. It is our honor to bestow on him the Alderaan award for bravery as well as a reward of one million denarii." There was a low murmur and a round of applause. It was not a small sum, even for risking one's life. Ned had known exactly why he was being given the extra cash.
"Mr. Stark, please come up on stage and share your experience on how you were driven by your love for Alderaan," said the mayor, looking sternly at the crowd, trying to locate Ned.

Silence.

"Mr. Stark, please come up and say a few words to your fellow citizens. We would all like to be out of this heat, I think," eliciting nervous laughter from the crowd.

Silence.

Later, that afternoon, when officials came to Ned's house, they were told by the neighbors that he had gone to lunch at the temporary shelter the Kalites had built, with his wife and daughter accompanying him.