Absolution [Journal]

[Roen]

[[Following the events from here, this thread will be a collection of posts as it follows Roen in the aftermath. They are but scattered glimpses of her ongoing journey.]]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Coerthas was an unforgiving place.

 

The ever-grey skies afforded no reprieve from the unrelenting snowfall, and the icy temperatures always seemed to seep in beneath the armor to lay their numbing touch to the flesh and the bones beneath.

 

But for Roen it was not numbing enough.

 

As she pulled the length of her sword from the flesh of the fallen aevis, her chilled armor creaked in protest. Her breaths came quick and heavy, broad puffs of steam quickly dissipating into the frosty air as soon as it left her lips. Securing her footing despite standing a fulm deep in snow and ice, the paladin looked about the mountainside that was littered with bodies of dragonkin and soldiers alike.

 

The assault on Ishgard by the Dravanian Horde seemed to grow with each passing sun. Cold and death were what greeted her since the first day she had arrived, answering the Holy See’s call for aid as many other sellswords did. But unlike them, she did not come to help a nation in need, nor did she come seeking reward or payment.

 

The paladin did not know why she was here, only that she needed to get far away from where she was.

 

After she had watched Nero’s wrapped body burn within its floating pyre sent adrift into the depths of Llymlaen’s embrace, Roen left Vylbrand without a word. Her friend Kiht had watched her go, sorrowful but silent, understanding that the woman wanted to be alone.

 

The frost-covered mountains of Coerthas were the last place the paladin thought she would have come seeking an escape. This was the place where Crimson Mountain had taken her nearly a cycle ago, after all, and she had silently vowed never to return to this cursed region; its bleak desolation only reminded her of violence and suffering.

 

But she knew she had not returned here searching for solace either.

 

“Stay still,” Roen said quietly as she knelt before a knight, her eyes going to the bleeding wound at his side. She yanked off her gauntlet, not caring for the immediate chill that threatened to stiffen her fingers, as she worked to assess the depth of the laceration. The knight just nodded with a grunt, the Elezen’s visage remaining stoic despite the crimson flow that was rapidly staining the snow beneath him. Such was the tenacity she saw in many here -- those used to the daily scourge brought by the Dravanian Horde.

 

“I am going to stop the bleeding,” the paladin murmured as she placed her hand against his wound, his sticky blood already becoming cool to touch. “It should stabilize things until we get you back to Dragonhead.”

 

When the other men came to take him away, the snowfall had already turned to hail, and a gale tossed her frost-licked forlocks aside. She refastened the gauntlet onto her hand as the wagon of wounded soldiers began to roll away.

 

“Deneith!” came a voice from behind. When the paladin turned, she saw a familiar Elezen approaching her with a cloak in hand. It was her commanding officer, Idristan Tournes, a knight-captain under the banner of Durendaire and a loyal soldier to the Holy See. He was one of a few who were willing to accept her into his ranks, despite the paladin’s few words (and even less explanation of her past). He did not care, for Ishgard was in need of anyone that could wield a weapon, and Roen had shown willingness to take any tasks given without complaint. Especially if the task involved fighting dragonkin. No politics, no negotiations -- just putting a blade to creatures that wanted naught but to end lives of men.

 

“The blizzard is only going to get worse.” The Elezen knight tossed her the cloak. “Best guard yourself from the cold as much as possible when not fighting. It hits harder on the mountainside.”

 

Roen nodded, donning the cloak and pulling the hood over her head. Small icicles were growing on the fringes of the fur, and the wool felt heavier with the thin sheet of frost that coated it. “Any more jobs?” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears, the cold constricting her throat.

 

The knight furrowed his brows as if to protest, but eventually nodded with a sigh. “Aye. Another caravan was hit, north of here on the pass. We can join those already headed that way.”

 

“Dravanians?”

 

Idristan nodded with a wry curl of his lips. “Do I tell you about any other jobs?" The Elezen had joked a few suns past that the paladin had come to Coerthas possessed with one singular thought: to kill monsters. She did not seem to care for fighting anyone or anything else. The Ishgardian let out a long sigh, his frame bending slightly with exhaustion. “We can head back to Dragonhead and none would blame us for it. We’ve been at this since daybreak two suns ago. We had to exchange out our mounts with those that arrived with the wagons lest they fall due to cold and exhaustion. We could use a rest ourselves.”

 

The paladin exhaled, ignoring the aching and cold limbs that screamed for warmth and comfort. “You go. I can join those at the pass.”

 

The knight snorted, giving her that haughty laugh that only an Elezen could. “And let an outsider defend my homeland?” Roen could not tell if his words were in jest or if they held a hint of genuine scorn. Their disdain for those not of their ilk was as much a part of Ishgard as the icy landscape. But his tone did not affect her; in truth the paladin did not care.

 

Idristan afforded her a small grin that did not linger long when Roen did not respond to his banter. After staring at her with a bland look he turned to where their chocobos stood waiting. “Come. Let us go slay some monsters.”

 

Roen began to follow him wordlessly when the glimpse of color -- red and blue flitting through the blizzard -- caught her eye. It was a sight she had not seen in many sennights: a mail moogle darting her way. The moogle's squinted eyes smiled at her despite the frost that weighed the edges of his whiskers.

 

“A delivery for you, kupo!”

[Roen]

[[The gift of the shield is mentioned in this post.]]

 

 

 

The kite shield was beautifully made. Its edges were reinforced, its surface polished and old dents smoothed out; the emblem upon it shined as a reminder that it would be nothing but stalwart in its defense of those who stood behind it.

 

Roen could only stand there breathless and frozen as she stared at the gift that the mail moogle had delivered into her hands.

 

The paladin had not opened it immediately; she had a caravan ambush to check on, and had tied the well-wrapped package onto her chocobo saddle as she rode with the Elezen knight. And as was suspected, they had found more groups of aevis devouring the fallen caravan, nothing left but a wreckage of wagons and mangled bodies in the snow. The group of knights made quick work of the scalekin, driving swords and lances into them, putting an end to yet another group of dragon thralls in an endless string of many.

 

But after the last aevis fell, Idristan would brook no further argument. He ordered her to return to Whitebrim Front for rest and sustenance, for their patrols would begin again in the morn.

 

So it was within the barracks that the paladin found a moment’s pause, and she laid the package onto the bed and unwrapped it.

 

Roen stared at the shield for what seemed like hours, the hearth flames lending its metallic surface an orange glow. The letter that had accompanied it was still in her hand, crumpled in her grip as her fingers clenched around it.

 

“I hope that this new kite shield allows you to continue to mentor others and serve you well. You are a true Paladin, Roen.”

 

Those were Kage’s words. She had not thought to hear from him again. Not since Natalie died and they had drifted apart. He was lost to his grief, and Roen had been swept up in Nero’s revolution. She had wistfully thought of the Lalafell and others during Starlight, friends and loved ones that held a special place in her heart. She had sent Kage a gift of a white beret, as a reminder of times of long gone.

 

And now the shield and the beret both seemed to stare back at her, their very image spearing her clear through with memories and emotions she long sought to bury here amidst the frozen mountains.

 

“May we never falter.” Those were the words of her oath that she had recited many times over. It was a mantra she had fallen back on when she felt hopeless and lost. And yet she had faltered.

 

“Remember who you were.” She had told Kage this when she wrote to him during Starlight. And yet it was she who was now eager to forget.

 

Then his voice came unbidden from the depths of her memory. The one recollection she desperately did not want returned.

 

"You and I will become a sword and shield. I will slay those who encroach upon us. You shall defend justice and the innocent. An apt analogy, no?"

 

Before she knew it, Roen had snatched up the shield from the bed and quickly strode to the door, throwing it open despite the gust of frozen rain that greeted her. A blizzard pelted her face as she hurried through the courtyard, boots wading with haste through knee deep snow. Once clear of the gates, Roen hurled the shield into the darkness with a loud, hoarse cry. Her scream was swept into the chasm below by the howling winds, just as the kite shield landed many yalms away, skidding and spinning upon the icy ground until it came to a stop at the edge of the ravine.

 

Ice cracked and crunched beneath her armored weight as the paladin collapsed to a seat on the frosted ground, her eyes forlornly looking out into the night. She refused to shed more tears; those she gave to the sea as were the last, the remnant shards of her shattered heart falling there too. But no more tears after. She had promised herself.

 

The paladin remained there, alone in the night, wanting the cold to numb her senses again. A thin sheet of sleet had cloaked her frame by the time Roen rose again, stiff hands pushing up against her knees to regain her bearings. She turned back toward Whitebrim's gate, intent on quick strides back to the shelter.

 

Instead, Roen plodded through the snow to the cliff’s edge and bent to pick up the kite shield. Its emblem still held onto the dim light that was behind her, glimmering ever so faintly. She did not notice the numbness of her fingers as she brushed off the dirt and ice from its surface, her weary eyes going over its dented but dauntless surface once more.

 

Releasing a long breath into the night, the paladin turned and made her way back to the fortress, the shield in hand.

[Roen]

[[Events of this post follows this post.]]

 

 

 

Roen woke with a start.

 

A sense of dread pressed upon her chest--so much so that she had to gasp for air as she sat up. It was an odd feeling. She was no stranger to nightmares, but this latest dream--even though she could not recall the details--felt real, ominous, and urgent. The paladin had to lean over the side of the bed, hands gripping the edge of the cot as she collected her breath. Her eyes glanced to the hearth and the fire that had long died over the span of the night. Goosebumps began to creep up her arms as she drew the thick woolen blankets over her shoulders; the haze of slumber was quick to retreat in the face of the ever present chill that hung in the air.

 

Slipping her feet into a pair of fur-lined boots, Roen padded her way to the hearth, bending next to the pile of kindling to restart the fire. She took care not to make too much noise, her eyes going to the rest of the barracks where another mound of blankets rose and fell with quiet snores. She knew not the names of the mercenaries that she had shared the barracks with, and they never seemed to care to know hers. She kept to herself, did not speak much, and did as she was told. They left her alone for the most part, save a few glances or leering stares. But her armor and sword kept any harassment at bay; most mercenaries hadn’t come to the frost-cursed region of Coerthas expecting any indulgences or comforts.

 

As the paladin took up the flint and tinder she paused, a memory on the edges of her thoughts rising to the fore. She suddenly recalled one of the earliest lessons with her brother regarding sword fighting. She had met Gharen near Stonesthrow and he was teaching one of his other pupils a lesson on building a fire. A shy and somewhat fearful Miqo’te named Anzil Oenomaus was set to the task of starting a fire while Gharen and Roen sparred. But it was only a moment later that a spark had caught onto Anzil’s hair and he was screaming in panic.

 

Roen recalled with distant amusement the horrified expression that the young Miqo’te wore after she dumped a bucket of water on his head, as if that was a fate worse than his hair in flames. She and Gharen had tried their best not to laugh out loud, for Anzil’s mortification was clear.

 

As the small flicker of flames began to take hold of the kindling, the paladin found herself staring at the fire, her thoughts lingering on those memories. A part of her was surprised to find herself remembering those days long gone, before all the sorrow and the darkness. She had pushed all thoughts of family and friends aside since that day in Aleport, and it was easy to not think about anything since her arrival here in Coerthas.

 

So why did thoughts of Gharen return to her unbidden now?

 

Pulling the woolen blankets tighter around her frame, Roen made her way back to her cot. She paused when she spotted the kite shield leaning against the corner of her bed, along with the rest of her equipment.

 

Perhaps I have shut out the rest of the world long enough. It had been since Starlight that she had spoken to her brother, and the last words they had exchanged were ones of anger and conflict. But he did send her a Starlight gift--a small woven doll--perhaps in an attempt to reconcile things, along with a missive wishing her well.

 

Never having had the gift for the written word, Roen wanted to find him then to speak to him in person. She too held hope that the rift would be closed between them. But then she was arrested by Coatleque and thrown into Taeros’ dungeon before she got the chance to even write him. Since then, after the escape and all that had followed, she never again had the chance to reach out to her brother, or anyone else for that matter.

 

But now, just for a moment, she found her thoughts wandering to all those she had left behind. Her brother, Gideon, Kiht… and so many more.

 

The cot creaked as the paladin settled into a seat, her eyes going to the small satchel next to her pack. It held parchments and ink. Her fingers curled and uncurled under the blanket, still reluctant to reach for them. What would she say? She did not even know where to begin.

 

It was then that the doors to the barracks swung open, the cold morning air rushing in and threatening to extinguish the hearth flames that were just gaining some life.

 

“Time to go, ladies and gentleman.” Idristan Tournes stood in the doorway, fully armored with a large shield hanging from his back. He wore his usual expression--a mixture of disapproval and impatience, his commanding tone never loud but always sharp. A few grumbles came from the other cots, but no actual protests were voiced as the mercenaries began to rise and gather their equipment.

 

Roen did the same, ignoring the chill that greeted her skin as she set the blanket aside, reaching for her breeches and armor.

 

The letters would have to wait.

[Roen]

“Why do you want to kill monsters, Deneith?”

 

Idristan Tournes had slowed his mount to fall in stride with hers, as the group of mercenaries and knights rode back towards Dragonhead. The skies had shown them mercy for the last few bells, withholding snowfall as the regiment made its way south from Providence Point.

 

Roen gave the knight-captain a sidelong glance and found his pale green eyes scrutinizing her keenly. She did not meet his gaze for long. “Things are simpler.”

 

When she gave no further explanation, the knight snorted, amused. “You care not for the Ixal to the east nor any other beasts that need thinning. But any mention of dragonkin and you are ready with your sword.” When the paladin continued to look straight ahead, the Wildwood Elezen continued. “You keep to yourself and do not ask for anything other than the essentials. All you seem to want to do is fight and kill scalekin. I suspect you only sleep so you can do it again the next sun.”

 

Roen only shifted slightly in her seat as the Elezen gave her another long look. She did not answer.

 

“Many come to Coerthas for their own reasons, Deneith,” Ser Idristan sighed. “Yours is but one of them.”

 

The paladin furrowed her brow, parting her lips to respond to him... when Goldwind paused, having come beak to tail with the rider in front of them. The entire group had come to a stop on the road, overlooking Witchdrop. The whole of their attention was turned toward a gathering there, so Roen nudged her bird to the edge of the road for a closer look.

 

A group of armored knights made a half moon around a singular robed figure in the center--an Elezen with a long flaxen braid and a book in hand. She stood tall, and her rigid posture held an air of authority. She stood in front of a group of four Hyurs, a couple and their two children. The youngsters huddled around the legs of the woman, while the male wore a pleading expression, gesturing to the three behind him.

 

“Move on, there is nothing to see here.” Idristan’s cutting tone brought everyone else’s attention back to the knight-captain, and the group around the paladin began to lead their mounts back towards Dragonhead. But Roen did not move. Her eyes remained trained on the scene ahead; she found herself leaning forward slightly to catch the words that were being exchanged.

 

“I beseech you, Inquisitor Dumergue.” The midlander male laced his fingers together, his hands shaking with emotion. “These charges are not true. My family is innocent. We have always been loyal to the Holy See!”

 

He was only met with a cold stare from the blonde Elezen, her gaze traveling down the length of her long hawkish nose. “Then place your faith in Halone’s judgement. Prove your innocence and leap forth and entrust your fate to the Fury.” She gestured with the sweep of her hand to the perilous edge of Witchdrop.

 

Roen blinked, her eyes going wide. Without a word she unhooked her feet from the stirrups and slid off her bird. But before she could take another step, Idristan came to stand before her, blocking her view.

 

“Leave this be, Deneith.” His words carried a sharp warning as did his narrowed eyes.

 

“But…” The paladin glanced from the knight to the scene beyond him. She tried to step around him. “Does she mean to… how is throwing himself off the cliff--”

 

“You are an outsider.” Idristan took a step to his side to match hers, still blocking her way. “And I have seen each and every one of your kind react to these proceedings in their own way.” His voice was not raised and likely not audible to those by the cliffside. They were only meant to gain and hold her attention. “This is our way. You have no right to interfere or question.”

 

“My children! Please, Inquisitor. At least spare the children!” The Midlander’s raised voice echoed into the chasms below.

 

“Are they all to jump? To prove their innocence?” Roen found her own voice trembling and not from the cold. “The woman? And the children?”

 

Idristan’s steely voice did not waver, nor did his stern expression. “That is up to the judgement of the Inquisitor. But if you obstruct her work in any way, you would be committing heresy.” When the paladin took another step to the side, the knight-captain grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her roughly against Goldwind. The chocobo bristled and jumped once.

 

“Do you really want to do this Deneith? Leap headlong into matters you do not understand? Impede an inquisition sanctioned by the Holy See, where the only outcome for you is to be branded an outlaw--or even a heretic? You will be exiled at best. At worst, you will find yourself standing by that cliff.”

 

“But the children…” Roen rasped. “Certainly they are innocent…”

 

“There is no such thing as innocence," the paladin heard another remembered voice whisper in her ear. "Only varying degrees of guilt.” She immediately shook her head, as if to push his words out of her mind.

 

“Perhaps if you can speak to the Inquisitor... appeal for mercy…” Roen looked up at the knight, and for a moment she thought she saw sympathy in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by chilled indifference--practiced and enforced in this ice-cold land--and hammered in place by a heavy scowl.

 

Idristan lowered his head to level his disapproving gaze upon hers. “This is our way of rooting out the drachen fiends, Deneith. If you are to stay on our soil, you must abide by our laws.” His hands released her shoulders and he took a step back. “Ask yourself again why you came here.”

 

Her chest rose and fell with heavy, quickened breaths, white puffs of steam quick to fade into the cold. No longer pinned to the side of her bird, Roen glanced to the cliffside again. The man’s head hung low and he nodded and murmured something to the Hyur woman. The woman was sobbing, shaking her head. Her grip was tight around the shoulders of her children, as she buried their faces against her skirt. The half circle of armored knights had drawn their bows and their lances, holding them at ready, warily watching the accused. With a nod, the man approached the edge of the precipice.

 

Roen stared for another breath, her hands shaking in tight fists by her side. When the man paused at the very edge of the drop and folded his hands over his chest, the paladin forced herself to spin away, grabbing and yanking on the reigns of Goldwind. She strode away from Witchdrop as briskly as possible, straight into the biting teeth of an angry northern wind.

 

Coerthas' howl could not drown the wail of a woman’s heartbroken cry. Roen could only bow her head and quicken her steps to remove herself from its proximity. It would stay with her long after the wind had fled.

[Roen]

It was as if a large spear point made of stone and ice had been stabbed into the mountain. Roen stared up at its apex from below the ground within the cave that was The Fury’s Gaze. The etched carving of the three spears on the stone--the symbol of Halone--only seemed visible to a pair of keen eyes or to those pilgrims who specifically sought out this place to pay homage to the Goddess of War.

 

Roen too had come to the cavern to look upon the Stone of Halone, although she had no prayers to offer. Being raised in Garlemald, she had never been taught to worship the Twelve, or any other gods. And yet, since her arrival in Eorzea, she had witnessed many good people who drew strength from their faith in their times of need.

 

Was that why she had come to The Fury’s Gaze? For strength? For hope? For answers?

 

The cold silent stone offered none as she was left to stare at the rippling reflection of herself upon the shallow pool of water that collected beneath the pointed massive stalactite.

 

"I don't really believe in the Twelve, if you must know, Halone included.”

 

He had said long ago when she had asked him about his patron deity. Nero was loath to admit to any sort of worship, but of all the Twelve, the patron goddess of Ishgard frequented his lips the most.

 

“I don't revere her. I find the concept of guardian deities laughable.”

 

Roen was not sure why her steps had always led her here when the thoughts of him came. Perhaps it was the dichotomy that Halone represented, for in that, he and Halone were so similar.

 

“But I respect what she represents.” His voice weaved through her thoughts effortlessly. “The idea her existence supposedly propagates. She's the mistress of war and the mover of glaciers. Cold, steady determination for the latter, and explosive, fiery wrath for the former.”

 

The paladin glanced to her right, where she could nearly picture the man; his soot-black hair with orange highlights hanging low over his eyes as he came to stand next to her, crossing his arms the way he always did. He too looked up at the three spears. “If the Twelve really existed, what kind of perspective does the duality of her being bring her, I wonder?” he pondered aloud. He always did seem to enjoy philosophical debates. “Does the blood of war tarnish Her sheets of ice? Does the lethargy of that ice insult the idea of war?”

 

Roen stared at the ghostly image, even as the smuggler offered her his trademark smirk. “Make no mistake, I don't believe in her in the same way that I don't believe in flying basilisks turning airships into stone. But I think she and I would get along well."

 

His ice blue gaze lingered on her a moment longer, before life and light faded from his eyes. His color drained away, as did his buoyant expression. The paladin was frozen in place as she watched his smiling visage turn into an ashen figure of a dead man.

 

“I did not know it until that sun, but he wanted to die.”

 

The memory of Kiht Jakkya’s words seemed to shatter the sheet of ice that held her thoughts hostage.

 

The Keeper had long departed from this place of worship, though the exchange between the huntress and the paladin still echoed in Roen’s mind, much as it had within the cavern walls when they spoke. Her friend was shocked to find her here within the frozen cave of Coerthas, for the Miqo’te had come to pay pilgrimage to Halone for her own reasons. But her worry for the paladin was clearly written on her face, as was a lingering shadow of guilt.

 

Kiht had feared that Roen blamed her for what happened in Aleport, for forcing the paladin into a position where she had to kill someone. Only, Roen knew that choice could only be made by none other than herself.

 

“I know I did what I had to,” the paladin admitted even though regret laced her every word.

 

“You chose a ground to stand on, but you thought it would be different.” Kiht shook her head. “I apologize, Roen, I wish there was a way for it to be what you had envisioned. I felt you deserved it as you had pursued it so willfully. But things are hardly ever so dark and light. Most things are in between.”

 

To that Roen answered only with a hardened look. “There is nothing in between about death, Kiht. What I did to him, it was murder. I killed him. Unarmed. Hurt. Cornered.” The paladin felt a shiver run down her spine with that admittance. “I killed him, Kiht.”

 

“One to save a hundred.” His voice whispered in her ear again. “A hundred to save a thousand.”

 

“He was not giving you much choice.” The huntress scowled. “He threatened after he had done so much wrong. The Hells were you supposed to do? Ignore it? Tell me, how many people did he save with the deaths he caused?”

 

“Those are naught but echoes of the same things that I tell myself, again and again.” Roen shook her head, her voice turning quiet with her confession. “But it absolves me not. It does not set things to rights inside my heart.”

 

“Because no matter what, you had once loved him…?”

 

She had no answers for her friend. It was all Roen could do to don the stoic mask once more. But the guise was becoming easier each time. The paladin could see that Kiht spotted the shift as well, for her friend said no more on it. The Miqo’te exchanged some news about Gharen and Osric, and spoke of others who cared and were looking for her. After a quiet encouragement to reach out to those left behind, the Keeper huntress left Roen, reassured that she would be able to visit the paladin again.

 

Roen turned her eyes once more to the three spears carved into the stone overhead. A relentless warrior with a bronze greatshield, that was how Halone was depicted in most paintings and books. And yet the sharp piercing spears were what represented her.

 

They were weapons made to kill, not protect. She was the Mover of Glaciers and the Mistress of War. She represented determination and wrath. Halone represented two seemingly opposing ideals.

 

Was her own staunch adherence to virtue wholly one sided that she did not allow for any other lesser choices to be made? Did such idealism truly have no place in this world? Was it not her refusal to acknowledge the need for violence to end violence that brought about the tragic conclusion at Aleport?

 

Nero had believed it with all his heart, and Roen had opposed it with every fiber of her being. Yet it gnawed at her still--this idea of a "greater good" achieved through bloodshed. If Nero had even been partially right, she had not--could not--consider it.

 

At least not back then. Back when the man she loved still had a beating heart. Even now, despite the regret that weighed upon her soul, Roen could not deny that she did what had to be done. And yet…

 

What might sparing him his life have wrought?

 

She would never know.

[Roen]

Ishgard.

 

All the paintings and renderings she had seen of the place as a child did not do the majestic architecture justice. Roen stood before the impressive structure that was The Vault of the Holy See, awed by its towering columns topped with golden spires, their pointed peaks reaching for the heavens.

 

She could not help but wonder if such an august presence had a hand in inspiring reverence in those who looked upon it. Prayers to Halone were often heard upon the lips of those she had passed, and seminarians in their black and red cassocks milled about near the entrance to the Saint Reymanaud Cathedral.

 

Roen drank in the details of the place as she followed closely behind Idristan, the knight-captain’s long stride quickened with purpose as he strode through the streets of Ishgard. He had been called back to the city proper in light of the news of a possible insurrection in the making. Despite the paladin’s reluctance to become involved in any matters outside of dealing with bloodthirsty scalekin, the knight had ordered her to accompany him back to the city-state.

 

“You are still a stranger to our land and our ways,” Idristan had said. “And yet you deserve to see for yourself what it is that you and I would lay down our lives to defend.” His tone would brook no argument, but there was a hint of an entreaty behind his gaze. Though he would never admit it, Roen would have guessed that perhaps the Elezen wanted her to understand and accept the scene that she had witnessed at Witchdrop. They had never spoken of it again; Roen had decided that such things were not her affair, that she had not come to Coerthas seeking to change how things were.

 

And yet here she was, accompanying a knight to stop a possible revolution amongst the citizenry of Ishgard. Roen’s lungs tightened with something akin to dread.

 

A few glances were spared her way, her armor and equipment clearly marking her as a stranger, perhaps an adventurer within the city. Others dressed in mishmash of armor were scattered about, but most were merchants or nobles, all dressed in their furred coats and robes.

 

“Be on guard, Deneith,” Idristan drew her attention forth as the streets began to descend into the lower portions of the city. “This is The Brume.”

 

Her commanding officer had mentioned the situation briefly as they had made their trek back to Ishgard, but as Roen looked about this new district, she could not deny how much it reminded her of Pearl Lane. It was the broken underbelly of an otherwise beautiful and magnificent city-state. A stark contrast from the detailed designs of lancet windows and ornately carved finials that decorated the the buildings of worship, The Brume was a collection of unkempt alleys and broken down corners of buildings.

 

Piles of cracked stone and broken beams laid strewn about, and damaged walls and buildings seemed to be barely held together by wooden scaffoldings. An Elezen with dirty bandages wrapped around his head laid on the ground near one of the ruined buildings, his short and ragged breaths visible as short puffs in the frigid air. Two women were bent over him, but they held naught but pity on their faces. Beyond that scene further into a darker pocket of a crumbling house was another man on the ground, also looking sickly.

 

Roen’s eyes did not stay on any one of them for long. There were too many. Children huddled near a small fire while another man was raising both his hands to the sky as if to beseech the gods for aid or warmth. She strode past them all wordlessly and without slowing down, Idristan’s own pace quickening as he neared a gathering ahead.

 

“Ser Marat,” Idristan called out a greeting to a group of knights. They had formed a barrier at the end of the street, the tip of their pointed shields planted into the cobblestone below. Their weapons remained at their sides but every now and then one knight would glance apprehensively to another and they would shift their hands ever so slightly to be closer to the hilt of their swords. One of the knights turned in response to Idristan's call and slid his helm upwards, answering with a sharp nod of his own. “Situation report?”

 

“Ser Tournes, good to see you back.” Ser Marat glanced between the knight and the paladin before turning his gaze to the group of people that had begun to gather closer towards the end of the street. “Unhappy peasants have gathered to show their discontent. There were rumors of this gathering for many suns, and many feared that it may turn violent.”

 

Roen glanced past the temple knights, all armored head to toe in sturdy, well-crafted chainmail, shield and swords at the ready, to the press of people that were milling about. They were dressed in mostly layers of tattered woolen clothing, none of the furred coats were seen here. There were young and old, men and women, Elezen and Hyur alike. Many of them looked gaunt, their cheeks somewhat sunken in, their skin flushed and weather worn from the cold, but regardless of their condition their eyes glimmered with determination, however weak, and a firm sense of indignation at their treatment.

 

“What have they done, exactly?” Roen asked.

 

Ser Marat was quick to frown at her inquiry, but when a glance to Idristan was answered with a nod, he replied in an annoyed nasally tone. “They marched down the street, chanting their demands. They are collecting more people as they proceed.”

 

“Have they threatened anyone? Destroyed property?” Idristan calmly scanned the crowd.

 

Ser Marat shook his head. “They have naught but gathered at one end of the Brume. One of their ringleaders had been shouting something about marching up to the doorstep of the Four Houses and up to the Vault itself. For obvious reasons we cannot permit them to pass much further beyond the Forgotten Knight.”

 

“Do you mean to stop them by force?” Roen narrowed her eyes. “This looks like a peaceful rally.”

 

Ser Marat’s jaw tensed. “One or two stragglers pose no threat. But once a mob gathers, tempers flare and discontent turns into disorder. It is wise to put down such things before it presents a problem. They cannot even see that they are lucky to be alive and housed despite the ongoing war.” He tilted his head at the paladin, a scornful look plain on his face. "Regardless of their feelings, dissidents only weaken the Holy See's efforts against the Dravanians, and in their shortsightedness they may affect the security of Ishgard itself, for every knight that is called to quell their mob is another knight that is not in the field or watching the skies." His hands tightened their grip on the top of his shield.

 

Idristan gave Roen a sidelong glance. “I have seen the scales of Ul’dah that your chocobo bears on his barding.” If he noted her stiffening posture, the knight-captain did not make it known. “I have heard many tales of this place. You too come from a city-state where the impoverished is an undeniable presence and yet there is naught that can be done to alleviate their woes. How does Ul’dah deal with its dissidents that the peace is kept?”

 

Roen’s face hardened, her eyes refusing to meet that of her commanding officer. “Insurgents are not tolerated.” She clamped her mouth shut as if to end it there, but half a breath later she continued. “But if all who suffer believe that there is naught being done about it, that there are none who see their need and their suffering… there will rise another. Someone who is pushed too far, pushed too hard, who has decided that standing by is no longer an option.”

 

Idristan regarded her for a moment longer before nodding. He stepped past the knights forward the crowd, giving Roen just half a glance over his shoulder. “Follow me, Deneith.”

 

“Good people of Brume and citizens of Ishgard,” Idristan called out loudly, his hands held up in front of him. His helm rested atop his head, his eyes scanning the crowd. “You have come far enough, and your message has been heard. Know that your needs are not being ignored nor dismissed.”

 

“And yet what is being done about it?” a woman called out from the crowd. “The nobles sit high and mighty in The Pillars while we’re expected to eat rocks and ice down here! And the rest of you knights are telling us to be grateful about it!”

 

“The four houses are providing all they can for the Dragonsong War.” Idristan gestured toward the paladin. “They are providing funds to hire outsiders to also help in this unending conflict. We are fighting for our very right to exist despite the will of the dragons that would see us burnt and buried. We need all the resources we can spare to ensure our survival.”

 

A scornful laugh barked from the rear of the mob. "'Providing all they can', ser knight says!" It was a low, almost guttural voice. "Them nobles are parading around in silks and petticoats and throwing parties day and night, and they're providing all they can!" Several other shouts in agreement and affirmation rang through the throng of people, and some of the more aggressive dissidents stepped forward closer toward the line of shields. The knights, in response, raised their shields onto their arms and placed hands on their swords.

 

"Stop lying to us!" Another cry from a woman lost somewhere in the crowd, the voice of one who was desperate and full of tears.

 

"How many of us have frozen today?" The same guttural voice shouted. "Do you even know? Do you care at all?"

 

"Please, firewood, blankets, anything!"

 

The crowd had begun to grow in size and volume, and the shouting intensified. Ser Marat's eyes glanced quickly to Idristan, expecting an order to put down the riot. The latter, to his credit, pressed his lips together in an expression of stern restraint, though he too had begun to thumb the pommel of his sword.

 

Roen could feel some of the crowd look her way, some in disapproval, and others with wary curiosity as others shouted and began to push forward towards the knights, though not close enough to be threatened by their blades.

 

“What have you seen out there?” A young man called out to her. He was perhaps sixteen winters old, or maybe younger if he were not so thin. But he had an inquisitive gleam in his eyes, and a rebellious hint to his voice. “All we hear about are what the noble houses want us to know. And what the temple knights report. What do you see out there?”

 

The paladin straightened, clearing her voice. “I have seen many dragon thralls lay waste to caravans and a group of knights. I have come upon burnt or severed bodies littering the mountainside. They want naught but your deaths, and the blood of man split upon the snow. There is no sense or reason. Only violence.”

 

When the crowd had quieted to a low rumble, Roen continued. “Go home to your hearth and your beds. Know that in the time of war, there will be deaths, there will be suffering. Your city has closed its walls to the rest of us for as long as I can remember. But now I stand here before you, because the need has become more dire. The war has only grown more fierce and your losses have only deepened. Ishgard needs help from outsiders because it can no longer provide for its own. So if you were to start a revolution now, to push for a change when you should all be banding together... know that you will not survive.”

 

Her throat tightened as she said the next words. “So choose. Accept what must be and endure... or fight this and die.”

 

The young man who had looked upon her with a flicker of hope now looked crestfallen. With a deep scowl he spun away and disappeared around the corner. The rest of the crowd began to grumble amongst themselves.

 

“We will take it from here,” Ser Marat stepped in front of Roen, as he motioned to the rest of the knights to shepherd the crowd away. There was a nod of acknowledgement he gave to the paladin before he turned toward the peasants, and Roen thought she spied a small satisfied curl to his lips. It made her stomach roil.

 

“Will that be all, Ser Tournes?” she asked curtly to Idristan.

 

“I think our work is finished here,” Idristan nodded. “Good work, Deneith. I think we deserve a bit of…”

 

Roen did not hear the rest of what he had to offer. She spun on her heel and quickly strode away in the opposite direction, eager to put distance between herself and The Brume.

[Roen]

“That’s one fat kitten.”

 

Stray Oak poked one thick finger at the white round ball of fur, and the feline rolled onto its side. It was so fat its small stubby feet were dangling from its full belly. The kitten mewled quietly as it pawed at his finger, and the mercenary could swear it smiled.

 

“What’s he eatin’ anyways?” Heibert asked. The Midlander sellsword was leaning against the bar of the Forgotten Knight, one crooked elbow propped up next to the ledger that was open on the counter. He had a few hunting bills laid out and was waiting on the old man Ardolain to appear. The small common room was pretty vacant for the early afternoon, of both patrons and chairs.

 

“There be plenty of table scraps, even in a dump like this.” The Hellsguard remained squatting over the small calico kitten, rolling the little creature back and forth like a miniature log. He was rewarded with happy purrs. The Roegadyn grinned for an instant, then coughed and furrowed his brow instead.

 

“You mean to tell me that the little fat runt can beat a hungry rodent to a piece of breadcrumb?” The Midlander cocked a skeptical brow.

 

Oak eyed the kitten that was still rolling around on its back. “Maybe the little thing is quick. Uh… despite its uh... “

 

“Girth?” Heibert snorted. “The fact that its belly almost prevents its feet from touching the ground? Or that it shouldn’t be possible for them four little paws to carry it anywhere considerin’ the mass-to-limb ratio? That thing arrived mere fortnight ago and already it’s grown twice in size. All in width.”

 

Oak gave the Hyur a wry look, letting the kitten gnaw at the end of his callused finger. “How else ya goin’ ta explain it? It’s not like The Brume has food to spare. And the captain don’t allow for pets on the road.”

 

Heibert crossed one foot over the other in a lounging pose, his eyes going to the stairs leading up to the entrance. The old Elezen had yet to make an appearance. “I bet the ol’ man Ardolain sneaks it table scraps while we’re gone. Or Deneith is actually feeding the thing. Who knows with that strange woman?”

 

“What’s so strange about feeding yer pet?”

 

“She keeps to herself, don’t talk much, and never gave me more than two words in response to anything.” The Midlander shrugged. “The woman’s like stone. Not a smile or even barely a glance. But she gets gifts like it’s Starlight. First that shield outta nowhere, then this kitten. Something’s off about her.”

 

It was Oak’s turn to snort. “There’s not a conspiracy behind everything, Bellows.” The broad shoulders of the Hellsguard rose and fell in an idle shrug. “Sides, captain seems ta think she’s worth somethin’, lettin’ her keep the cat here and all. Even asked for the innkeeper ta keep an eye on ‘im while we’re on the road.”

 

“Yeah, notice that? Outta all of us, the captain took her to the near riot.” The Hyur sucked at his teeth, his lips curling downward in annoyance.

 

“As if you’d rather gone ta face an angry mob rather than hunt down some marks eh?” The Roegadyn jutted his chin towards the bar. “You’re here just like me, ta make some gil from fancy nobles who don’t want ta get their delicate petticoats bloody. I ain’t lookin’ ta figure out the whys and the hows as long as I get paid. ‘Sides, what you care about Ishgard politics anyroad?”

 

“I don’t.” Heibert rolled his eyes. “But I need to know who I’m fightin’ with. I need to be able to trust that someone’s watching my back.”

 

The Roegadyn let out a loud wheezy exhale and plucked his fingers from the kitten’s grasp to wag it at the Midlander. “I’ve seen Deneith heal wounded soldiers. She’s one of them paladins, and they be good ta have at yer side in a clutch.”

 

“Did you not notice the Ul’dah banner on her bird? You heard the rumors coming from the Jewel. What if she’s mixed up in alla that?”

 

Stray Oak cocked his head and plopped unceremoniously onto his rump, taking a seat on the wooden floor next to a table. He crossed his arms and gave Heibert a long straight faced stare. “You’ve been thinkin’ on this I reckon.”

 

“I just notice things that you don’t, Oak.” The Midlander shrugged. “Did you ever see Deneith use that shield that got delivered? It sits by her pack but she never carries it out onto the field. I wager if I were to steal it away, she’d notice though. It’s got sentimental value. Just like that cat she’s allergic to.”

 

The Roegadyn scratched his head. “How you know that?”

 

“Because she sneezes and rubs at her nose whenever she’s around it, but she keeps ‘im anyway, even letting it onto her bed while she sleeps.” Heibert tapped his temple with a finger. “I notice these things, you big oaf. So whoever sent it must mean somebody. There’s a mystery there and I mean ta solve it.”

 

“You don’t watch me while I sleep do ya?” Stray Oak gave him the crazy eye.

 

That gave a pause to the Hyur’s speculations for a moment as his cheeks grew a ruddy complexion. He gave a long narrow-eyed stare back at the Roegadyn, and did not deign to even formulate a response. He shook his head as if to dismiss his annoyance before starting again. “I am tellin’ ya, Oak. She’s hiding something or--” He stopped abruptly, both brows raised.

 

It was the perplexed look on the Midlander’s face that also made Oak pause. “What?”

 

“Well, I’ll be.” Heibert chuckled. “I guess you’re right. First time for everything.”

 

Stray Oak followed the sellsword’s gaze and turned back toward where he had left the kitten on the tavern floor. There he saw the feline ball of fur now with a small mouse in its grasp and a piece of cheese in his mouth. The kitten looked to be playing with the creature more than anything else, despite the rodent’s desperate squirming to try and get out of the clawed grasp. The Roegadyn stared at it a bit longer in disbelief, watching the cat play with the mouse as it was playing with his finger earlier.

 

“Huh.” He grunted, then a slow grin spread across his face. “See, I told you--”

 

The doors to the Forgotten Knight swung open with some urgency, enough to draw the gaze of both the mercenaries towards the stairs. Idristan Tournes stood at the entrance, his long face etched with grim intent. His eyes scanned the room quickly before they narrowed in on the two sellswords.

 

“Where is Blacke, Deneith, and Fenco?” Tournes barked.

 

“Still north of Falcon’s Nest, ser.” Stray Oak lumbered back to his feet, straightening in attention. “They were looking to the last of the caravans from The Convictory.”

 

“There was a heavy blizzard coming in so they might be delayed,” Heibert chimed in, gathering his hunt bills on the counter and stuffing it back into his pocket.

 

The knight-captain regarded the cat on the floor for a moment before turning sharply on his heel. “They’ve not checked in for bells. Let us go make certain they have not found unwanted trouble.” The Elezen exited the inn without looking back.

 

Stray Oak began to follow Heibert towards the stairs but paused halfway and turned back to the table he was squatting next to. He reached into his belt pouch and withdrew a small piece of dried meat and set it on the ground next to the calico kitten, who immediately tossed the mouse aside and pounced on the morsel. The Roegadyn grinned and scratched the happy feline behind the ear until a bellowing call from the Midlander made him bolt up and hurry out of the tavern.

[Roen]

"What did he do to you?"

 

Roen angrily poked at the coals, sending a flurry of embers and ash scattering to the winds. She replaced the metal grid above the brazier without care, the iron hinges clanking in protest at the harsh treatment. The paladin spun away from the cylindrical grill, a sharp glance given into the blizzard that had begun to whirl about the campsite.

 

Delial Grimsong and Kage Kiryuu had long gone, but their footsteps were still visible in the snow from where they had left her; their words had left their own impression upon the paladin.

 

Roen did not know how they found her. The paladin had volunteered to watch the campsite just south of Greytail Falls, knowing it would give her the solitude she wanted. The group she worked with under Ser Tournes left her alone for the most part, though Bellows had been asking more questions of her lately. She did not care to talk about herself, nor did she even want to get to know any of the other mercenaries she was working with. Despite being afforded a room at the Forgotten Knight, Roen rarely stayed there for long, only returning to make certain the kitten was being fed and taken care of.

 

She had to yet to even give the fat little thing a name.

 

The paladin sat back down on the stool next to the fire, running her hands through her frost licked hair. She mulled over the words that were exchanged between herself, Kage, and Delial, thoughts awhirl like the chaotic spin of snowflakes tossed by the Coerthas winds.

 

They were not a welcomed sight when they approached: the tall dark Highlander and the smallest of the Lalafell that Roen would ever know. The former rarely came bearing good news, and the latter…

 

The latter the paladin had not seen in over a cycle. When I last saw Kage, Natalie had been alive, Roen thought with a shake of her head.

 

At first Roen had just frozen in place, staring at them in shock. She had never expected to find those two--in Coerthas, of all places--or together, for that matter.

 

But together they had come, in search of her, and bearing ill tidings about Gharen, her brother.

 

“He is gone, duckling.” Delial relayed the news. Kage remained somewhat timid; the Lalafell was just watching her while the Highlander spoke in her usual gruff tone. “Gone and vanished and none would know where or why he has gone. I had hoped that he would have sought you out. But… well. I suppose not, hm?”

 

Roen winced. Last time she and Delial had spoken was about Gharen; Delial had beseeched her to seek him out, for he had habitually begun to fall into dark moods as the siblings had grown further apart. Roen had promised Delial that she would speak to him after her ordeal with Nero was done. But that was back when she thought that she would simply find the smuggler and bring him back to Ul’dah to face justice for his crimes. Such was not to be.

 

“I left him in your care,” the paladin accused the Highlander.

 

“And you made a promise, did you not?” The Highlander retorted back.

 

“....I could not keep that promise.” The paladin fought the sudden constriction in her throat.

 

Delial crossed her arms with a displeased look on her face. “The Sergeant relayed your message to me that you were fine. But honestly, I was quite unsure if he believed it himself. Drifting about Coerthas after a spat with your love, fighting dragons if what I have heard is true. Now, I have a mind for violence now and again, but even I must wonder if that might qualify as being 'fine'."

 

Roen instantly shot her a glare. "Is that why you are here? To pass judgement on what I choose to do? Is that not what you do? You had plenty to say when I was trying to change Ul'dah. You had plenty to say when I awaited judgement for being a spy. Matter of fact, you had plenty to say when we first met, but that was the only time you whispered honey in my ear."

 

The paladin found her ire rising quickly, vitriol spilling from her tongue. “Even after all that you have done, I asked you to look after him. And now that he is gone, you come here to pass judgement on me? You are not welcomed here. Do not stand there and speak of things you know nothing of.”

 

There was a smoldering frown on Delial’s face that barely changed when she barked out a laugh. "Plenty to say, mayhap, to a girl with not the wit to heed me when it mattered. Let it not be said that I, at least, have fled my obligations. I would not be here were it not for him."

 

Kage raised his hands, interrupting both the women. "I-I'm not here to judge! But Roen! Dragons! I had to fight them helping Melkire and it's... well..." The look he gave her was one of deep concern. "You don’t look fine to me, Roen. Somethin’s happened over the cycle since I’ve seen you. But..." The Lalafell's voice softened. "I'm still happy to see you after all this time. I wish I was able to support you before."

 

His words of sympathy only made Roen harden further. She was determined not to be moved. The paladin turned from him to scowl at Delial. “What do you want from me?”

 

"Eyes and ears, of course.” Delial shrugged, as if exasperated. “Yourself, your Huntress friend ... These are the people he was meant to see before he vanished. I have found little and less of him, much less you. But even Ser Crofte had reason to think there may be something foul stemming from nearby Ishgard." She paused, her expression darkening. "Banurein. And if Banurein is indeed afoot, then I imagine this disappearance is indeed not a matter of choice."

 

That name should have moved her. Banurein was the woman Roen had only heard about, the woman that plagued her brother’s nightmares, and the same woman who was the very reason that Roen began to investigate Taeros in the first place. It was that investigation that led her to follow the smuggler that was suspected to work for the Monetarist...

 

Roen did not want to think on those memories. She had come to Coerthas looking to bury them and to find a new path, and yet she was constantly being reminded of what had passed before and what she had left behind. The two standing before her and even the political state of Ishgard itself were just yet another reminder of what she wanted to forget. She was tired of questioning the choices she had made, of what could have been. She did not want anything to do with Banurein. Nor Delial. Nor Kage. Nor anyone.

 

“I will ask Kiht to aid you,” she offered coldly after a pause.

 

A long white breath was released through the Highlander’s nose as she studied the paladin. “And what of you?”

 

Roen no longer looked to either of them. She only stared at the flames. "I will keep my eyes and ears open." She heard her own voice, and it was without emotion. A part of her wondered if she was relieved or shocked. This was her brother’s fate they were speaking of. And yet, the paladin took comfort in the cold numbness that quelled any stirring within. “I am no tracker."

 

"I suppose not, but that is not the whole of what I ask.” Delial glanced down at the Lalafell. “Mayhap Kage might be better in your company than mine. I am a tiresome creature, I know."

 

Another scowl twisted the paladin’s face instantly. "Setting a sitter on me? Still worried, aye? Worried about the fate of poor Roen Deneith. When will she end up in trouble yet again?" Her voice had taken a cynical turn. "I do not need anyone to stay with me, travel with me, or watch over me." She shot a glare to both of them. "I do not need you."

 

"Spare us," Delial sighed. "Ever a poor liar, duckling, but it matters not. We will need you."

 

Kage looked taken back. "You may not need anyone Roen, but you are needed by your friends."

 

Roen turned away from them both, a deep frown etching her face. "I... I have nothing to give you. Understand?" She looked over her shoulder to them both, without meeting their eyes. "I have nothing to give. I am tired of caring. Of trying." It was a lie, but it was one she becoming more comfortable with.

 

"I don't want you to force yourself to give anything.” Kage blurted out, his voice shaking with disbelief. “I don't expect you to give me anything."

 

“Then leave." Roen sharpened her words even as she kept her back to them. "I will send a missive when I hear anything about Gharen."

 

The paladin heard the defeat in Kage’s voice. "I'll leave Roen... but I'll be at the Forgotten Knight if'n you ever need me, you need but ask and I will come." From the corner of her eyes, she could see the Lalafell trudging away. But Delial remained where she stood for a moment longer, unmoved by her words.

 

"What did he do to you?"

 

Roen could not answer. She did not want to answer. For her to even ponder a response would open up the wounds that had frozen closed since her arrival. They were no longer raw--they were just numb. She had deadened them with a resolve to kill monsters, and she had buried the sadness with resentment instead. It was easy to blame the smuggler for her broken heart and for her shattered ideals. She had been a fool to believe in the man, and the condemnation she held for him as well as her own naivete withered away what emotions that would only bring despair.

 

The paladin clenched her fist tight by her side. She did not want to care, nor did she want to feel any stirrings of sorrow. So she refused to.

 

“Leave,” Roen said once more without turning around.

 

And so Delial left.

 

Their footprints were no longer visible upon the snow as Roen absently stared out into the blizzard. The bitter chill bothered her no longer, nor the howling winds that constantly wailed in the distance. They were becoming familiar companions to her solitude.

 

Roen sat there for a long time, trying to convince herself it was better this way.

[Nero]

A parcel arrives. Attached is a letter.

 

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN: Deneith, Roen

 

Greetings and Salutations on this (There are several scratches and splotches of faded ink, indicating that this section was rewritten over a few times) 10th Sun of Llymlaen's Third Astral Moon, the year 1574 1575 1576 this year, from the Office of Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises.

 

I, Jeulerand Ganathain of Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises, am pleased to inform you via this letter of your status as the beneficiary to a trust fund opened with us here, at the Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises. At the time of writing, you: DENEITH, ROEN (the letters are written in massive block letters on the parchment) are now legally entitled to lay claim to the following POSSESSIONS, FUNDS/CURRENCIES, ESTATES, INTANGIBLE PROPERTIES Circle all that apply (Possessions, funds/currencies, and intangible properties are circled) within the fund as detailed by Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises' client: SEBASTIAN REDGRAVE.

 

Enclosed are POSSESSIONS, FUNDS/CURRENCIES, ESTATES, INTANGIBLE PROPERTIES Circle all that apply (Possessions, Intangible Properties are circled) that our client requested that you receive directly.

 

Please make time to visit the Office of Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises within the next eighteen (18) moons in order to personally claim the remainder of the funds. Attached is the location of our offices. (A small map is enclosed detailing Old Gridania. A small building is circled, and the phrase "Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises" is written next to it. The writer ran out of space and therefore it only says "Ent" at the end.) Please have proof of identity prepared before arrival so that we at Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises may release the contents of the fund to you with promptness.

 

The parcel itself is actually comprised of two boxes. One is a small, wooden, and rectangular box used to hold papers; the inside of the box is lined with simple cloth. Within the box itself is a litany of documents: letters of credit in values upwards of several hundred thousand gil signed by trading companies throughout all three city states, vouchers to various guilds for items and equipment, and other financial certificates.

 

The slightly larger rectangle beneath it rattles a bit when shaken, and the items within far more whimsical and carefully packaged. One is a brilliant blue bottle with an equally brilliant blue liquid, labelled "HAIR DYE" in large block letters glazed onto the glass. Another is a small, cubed jewelry box wrapped in velvet containing a pair of amethyst earrings set in elaborate filigrees of silver and gold; they jingle with movement. The other items include an elaborate and polished ocarina carved from the tooth of a large animal, a bag of rough-cut gemstones, a watercolor painting set, a pair of immaculate punching gloves in padded leather, an Eorzean bestiary, and a porcelain tea set guarded by padding such that it is impossible to tell what it is without unwrapping several layers of silk and carved wooden dividers. Last but not least, a stuffed chocobo doll had been unceremoniously crammed into the last remaining corner of the box. The doll had been roughly made of bright yellow felt with large bronze buttons affixed to its head for eyes. The seams were unsteady and the attitude of the maker was clear in the item's construction; careful knots and weavings of frustrated determination, smooth patterns of hesitant confidence, and several sections of abandoned dissatisfaction where the cloth segments had been woven together not unlike a stitch in a wound. The letters "G.W." were sewn into the chocobo's back with orange yarn.

 

At the very bottom of the larger box is a sheet of folded parchment. It is mostly blank, except for a few sentences written in elaborate cursive.

 

"One handful per fulm of hair. Dye washes off after roughly one cycle. Lather in hands, grasp locks, wash gently. Blue would look good.

 

The chocobo is a reply to the Starlight Festival. Sewing is hard. One of the buttons may come off. Don't ask me to repair clothes.

 

To stand in twilight is to witness the beauty of both day and night.

 

The stars may blind those who dwell in darkness.

 

The sun may cast eternal shadows upon those who bask in light.

 

I thought I wanted you to join my side.

 

But what I wanted was to be able to go to yours.

 

may you forever have the strength to defend what you believe

 

N.L."

[Roen]

"One handful per fulm of hair. Dye washes off after roughly one cycle. Lather in hands, grasp locks, wash gently. Blue would look good.”

 

It was a mistake to step onto the ship. Roen had regretted the decision to follow Nero onto the Second Forte as soon as the anchor was hoisted and the canvas of the main sails went taut with the winds of the Rhotano Sea. The sound of lapping waves soothed her not, and the view of the land growing smaller in the distance weakened her at her knees.

 

And yet she had followed the pirate on board after she came upon him preparing to leave Vesper Bay, as Daegsatz predicted he would when she could not find the smuggler at any of his safe houses.Their business was far from done, their alliances being just over a fortnight old. Especially after he kissed her a few suns ago; she could not just watch him leave. So despite the twist that came to her stomach at the thought, Roen agreed to accompany him as he prepared to return to the Second Forte. She was not about to let her recent ordeal with Crimson Mountain paralyze her with fear, even though she had silently vowed never to be stranded at sea ever again--not following that nightmare.

 

But what was she to do? Let the pirate go? When he offered her his hand, she took it and climbed on board the ferry.

 

The man she saw once she climbed onto the main deck of the Second Forte was no longer the jovial smuggler she had first met; now he was a pirate captain in every sense--a man who barked orders like a Maelstrom boatswain, sending his crew scrambling about the deck. But when the ship was finally well on its way to Limsa Lominsa, Nero seemed to look upon her with some measure of sympathy. He soon led her below the deck and away from the rest of the crew. He seemed to sense the paladin’s nervousness, despite the fact that she was trying her best to control her breathing and dismiss the pounding in her chest. He had given her a vial during the ferry ride for sea sickness, but it did little to quell the fluttering in her stomach. She was not about to show him that.

 

Once they were in his quarters, he offered her a seat that she did not take. Her eyes went from him to the small porthole and the view of the sea.

 

"Why did you seek me out, Roen? For my dashingly handsome looks, perhaps?" The pirate broke the silence with what seemed a jovial attempt to set her at ease. The smirk on his face had also returned.

 

"I just... wanted to clear the air."

 

"What about?" His facetious mask was almost a pleasant and familiar distraction now, within the confining walls of the rocking ship.

 

Roen licked her lips, slightly hesitant. "About… what happened a few suns ago." Her lips twitched. "About you kissing me." That came out more hurried than she had intended.

 

Nero kept the smirk on his face, raising an eyebrow. "And you are back for more, perhaps?" His tone was playful. "Unfortunately for you, we're in the middle of the Rhotano Sea. Running away is less viable of an option this time around."

 

"I know,” the paladin said calmly. If he hoped to bait her, she refused to take it. “I ran. But what was my alternative?" She regarded him carefully, trying to see beyond his air of arrogance. "This is a game to you, aye?"

 

The pirate stepped closer to her. "Dear Roen, you do not give yourself enough credit. You are not simply a game. The fact that I am enjoying myself does not mean it is trivial, no? What answer are you looking to get from me, Roen Deneith?"

 

"I do not know,” she blurted out. “I know you not, but all I have said, all I have committed to, it is because of what I believe about you." Roen inhaled deeply, collecting herself. "But… it does not put me at ease when you..."

 

"You are not at ease when I do this?" The smuggler stepped forward and pressed his lips on her again. It was not nearly as long as their first at Crescent Cove; this kiss was brief and quick.

 

The paladin’s eyes widened, and this time she had a sense to step back. She exhaled and placed her palms against his chest, with a quick tap. "Stop that."

 

Nero’s grin widened. "As you wish."

 

"You have a way of catching me off guard, time and again.” Roen began to feel the heat rise to her cheeks despite the numerous times she told herself she would not be flustered again by this man. “And… I will admit you are good at--at what you do. You probably have had your share of kisses and women. But I.... I want us to work together. Perhaps even be friends. But if you keep doing that..."

 

The smuggler tilted his head slightly. "...Then perhaps we may end up as more than friends?" he teased. Then he gestured, almost impatiently, as if the thought of kissing were a gnat. “It is irrelevant. If we are seen together, Natalie is likely to come over and pull my intestines out through my neck. Which is why I left and in a hurry. Your friends were… very insistent that I stay away from you."

 

The mention of Natalie made her frown instantly. "What she thinks of us should have no bearing on this discussion. Natalie can go jump off a Noscean cliff for all I care. She has meddled in my life long enough."

 

Nero spread his arms theatrically. "Ah, it is heartwarming to see you insist that nothing get between us. I understand." Without waiting for a response, he leaned in and placed his hand near her face, twirling a lock of her hair. "Though, I would be interested in seeing how you look in a ponytail."

 

Roen let out a long exasperated breath. "You are clearly not listening to--" She was forced to pause. "A... a ponytail?"

 

The pirate grinned, nodding. "I think you would look good in one. Have you considered growing out your hair? Perhaps have it coloured like I have." He brushed his own fiery orange forelocks. "An exotic colour. Blue, perhaps?"

 

The paladin found herself absently tucked a lock away, even as he withdrew his hand. "I used to have--" She stopped, giving him a straight face look. "Mister Lazarov," she said his surname in a chiding tone, both words firmly spoken.

 

"You would rather our emotions not cloud the circumstances of our alliance or interfere with our goal. I understand." He inclined his head in what seemed a mockery of deference. "Should there come a time where you must choose between myself and success, I pray you will know which choice I would have you make." Nero still had a smirk on his face and his tone was still light, despite his sober words.

 

The gravity of his sentiment made her pause, and a part of her was glad he was no longer teasing her. This push and pull between them... was this not why she had sought him out? She settled her thoughts and nodded with a knitted brow. "Aye. I know what your choice would be as well. But..." She glanced back up at him, her voice soft. "I also think that you and I... we have had nothing but arguments since we met. Perhaps we should change that."

 

"And what an interesting run it has been, no? I have not had such fun in intellectual sparring since dear paps disappeared. You are resolute in your bright ideals as I am relentless in my tarnished ones. It would make for a good story."

 

Roen regarded him thoughtfully. "Perhaps if we can find a compromise, Ul'dah will benefit all the more for it." She straightened, inhaling deeply. "Once we get to Limsa... give me an afternoon."

 

"Ah, an afternoon where you want me all to yourself, I take it?" The arrogant smirk remained plastered on his face.

 

The paladin narrowed her eyes on him with a hint of amusement. "Something like that."

 

"And to what do I owe the pleasure of an afternoon date with the lovely Miss Deneith, Free Paladin of Ul'dah?” The pirate arched a daring brow at her. “Or is it a surprise?"

 

"You will just have to find out." Her expression eased into a slight smile.

 

Nero answered with a smile of his own, a new twinkle in his eye. "As you wish.” He lightly brushed her cheek as he passed her by. She only wrinkled her nose at the touch but did not draw away. As she watched him exit the Captain’s quarters to make his way back up to the deck, she realized that she had forgotten about the ocean, the ship’s walls closing in, and the swaying of the ground beneath her feet. Her mind was a little bit more at ease.

 

Roen told herself that it was the potion that was beginning to settle her stomach. It certainly could not be anything else.

 

“Blue would look good.”

 

 

[align=center]~[/align]

 

 

 

“Right! No, right, you beast!”

 

That was the first time--if ever--that Roen thought the smuggler actually sounded panicked. Nero had a head start on her as he took off in a full sprint on his chocobo down the hill, but the paladin was starting to close the distance between them as she spurred Goldwind into a gallop. That was when she spotted Nero’s mount suddenly veering off left and the rider’s elbows were raised to his side, clearly demonstrating his struggle to control his bird’s heading.

 

Roen’s grin soon turned into a grimace as Nero and the bird looked to run into a giant boulder, but it was narrowly dodged, the bird skidding around it despite the confusing directions being given by its inexperienced rider. Seeing him still bouncing upright on his saddle, Roen grinned again as she rode past him.

 

“How is your backside?” she called out over her shoulder.

 

“Not nearly as shapely as yours, my dear!” He shouted back, undaunted.

 

She licked her lips in anticipation and lowered herself near the neck of her bird. With a gentle kick to the hindquarter, she and Goldwind took to the next downhill with abandon.

 

“Agh!” The smuggler’s cry this time was indeed panic. “Too fast, too fast! Halt! Stop! Cease thine movement!”

 

With a tightening of her legs and a firm hold on the reins, she brought Goldwind to a skidding stop at the bottom of the hill just overlooking the cliff. She placed her bird well away from the edge, but in between Nero and the precipice to allow for him to come to a safe stop.

 

It was not meant to be.

 

The smuggler was desperately hanging onto his mount’s neck as they came sprinting down the hill. Goldwind gave an alarmed kwark with a flap of his wings, to which Nero’s bird responded with a sharp skid. This sent its unfortunate rider flipping head beneath heels off his mount, with impeccable comedic timing. Roen winced at the landing. Dust rose into the early afternoon Noscean sky.

 

The pirate rubbed his back as he sat up. "Right, well, I told you not to laugh. But by all mean, please do it anyway. I know you want to." He raised his hand to stop her when she dismounted and approached. “No. Do not magnify my shame any more than it already has been, woman! Allow me to sit with some dignity!”

 

The paladin just shook her head with an amused smile, crossing her arms instead.

 

“I believe the bird they gave me was possibly drunk.” Nero grunted as he rose to his feet. “There should be a law against that.”

 

“I think your bird is in heat,” Roen glanced over to the two chocobos, watching Goldwind as he rubbed his head against the other one’s feathery neck. “They seem playful.”

 

Nero placed the back of his hand on his forehead in feigned shock. "Dear Roen, coming on to me so strong, and so soon? Why, we hardly know each other!" He followed her gaze and shrugged. "Well, I suppose the bird tried." He approached his chocobo and scratched it under its chin. "Still think you may be drunk," he muttered to the bird.

 

Roen approached Goldwind and gave him a pat on the neck to send him off to graze. Nero’s bird soon followed. “I think your mount did just fine." She gave a smirk over her shoulder to the smuggler. "Despite the rider."

 

Nero rolled his eyes. "Please forestall your judgment for now. Chocobos are not my favored element." He turned towards the view of the sea and let out a sigh. "This is far more my preference."

 

The paladin inhaled deeply of the sea air. "I cannot say I blame you. The view is wondrous."

 

The pirate glanced at her, a carefree grin on his face. He held out his arm to her. "You need not enjoy it standing so far from me, Roen."

 

She glanced down at his proffered arm, before stepping up next to him without taking it. "I asked you for this afternoon, because… I wanted us to enjoy each other's company without unease."

 

Nero shrugged, withdrawing his arms and folding them across his chest. “Consider your mission accomplished, then."

 

A pregnant pause filled the silence before they broke it at the same time.

 

“Nero, you are much more better at this than I. But--”

 

“Where did you learn to ride?”

 

Roen made a face and glanced away while Nero coughed. “Ah, you first,” he said quickly.

 

"When I was young,” the paladin pressed her lips together to chase away a sheepish smile. “I learned to ride early. It was one of the first things my mother taught me."

 

"Chocobos in Garlemald? Were they perhaps magitek chocobos?" A hint of amusement laced his tone. He lowered himself to the ground, leaning one hand against the soft grass of the cliff.

 

“They were available.” Roen joined him, tucking her legs to her chest as she took a seat. A gentle sea breeze began to waft past them. “Imports of course. My mother held all sorts of fascination with things that were foreign in nature." She looked back out into the oceanic horizon again, her mood growing wistful. "I suppose that bode well for me, since I was not born of the Empire either. She loved many things, Imperial or not."

 

“She sounds like a very compassionate woman."

 

"What little I remember of her. And after she passed, riding was one way I could hold onto some of those memories."

 

"Then for what it's worth, I am glad that at least something exists to grant you good memories of her."

 

Roen glanced down to the ground, her fingers playing idly with a blade of grass. Such relaxed conversations were rare between them, so she was determined to enjoy it. “Racing aside, this is nice. That we can get to know each other little better, away from talks of political upheaval and past tragedies.” When he looked back to her with an equally easy expression, she bit her lower lip. “Let us play a game of sharing a secret.”

 

“Oh?” Nero arched a brow. “Do tell.”

 

The paladin shrugged. “It is something I used to do in my youth to break the ice. Tell me something that you would never want your father to find out. Should you find him on the morrow, is there anything you would be mortified for him to discover?”

 

The smuggler turned away with a grimace. "Well… he'd probably be pretty annoyed that I've… um.." He scratched his head. “He... before I left to study thaumaturgy, he said I should… uh...." his cheeks turned ruddy as he coughed. "...get married."

 

Roen raised both eyebrows.

 

"I wouldn't want to hear his tirade when he found out I've still failed to do that much for him."

 

"Married?” The paladin eyed him oddly. “I… I never thought your pirate stepfather was so... traditional!"

 

Nero shrugged, wringing his fingers together. "I mean, even if not by blood, he was technically my father… he started getting on in years. I think he was married in the past, so… I suppose he wanted the same for me? Or he simply wanted grandkids to boss around. Make a pirate dynasty or something."

 

Roen chuckled quietly behind a curled hand. "And why did you not?"

 

He blew a breath out his nose. "Never found the right woman. I've been with women before, sure, but they were... dalliances. Or crazy." He seemed to consider something for a moment, then added, "Or both." He shrugged. "I'm not terribly interested in tying myself down either. At least not yet. Honestly, could you imagine me a married man, settling down in some cottage somewhere, living out my days in peace? I think Halone would throw her shield at me if she found out."

 

"I honestly cannot. Nay." She was trying her best to look sympathetic rather than amused.

 

The pirate flashed a playful glare at her. "You are enjoying this far too much. Your turn, then. What wouldn't you want your parents to find out?"

 

She bit her lip, her chuckle giving way to a wince. "My mother would be appalled that I am wielding a sword. Or wearing armor. Or trained in the arms." She wrinkled her nose. "She was a loving mother…. but a very noble, proper, and gentle woman."

 

"I suppose she wanted you dressed up in gowns and petticoats, practising your curtsy for noble suitors?"

 

"Had she been alive, I think I would have attended many balls. My life would have been full of courtships and..." she said dryly. “...proposals of marriage." She nodded to the man. "Those formal lessons began early."

 

Nero tilted his head in interest. "Care to demonstrate?" When she canted her head questioningly, he elaborated. "Whatever your noble mother taught you about nobility. Such as the aforementioned curtsy."

 

Roen pursed her lips, hesitating, then she straightened and rose, dusting herself off. "My mother was a good teacher," she said proudly. "I took her lessons to heart." She stepped back from him and drew herself up, lifting her chin, very noble like. Her hand moved smoothly as if floating in water, and she lowered herself ever gracefully into a deep curtsy.

 

“How do you do, Mister Lazarov,” she said with a slight accent. “I am ever pleased to make your acquaintance.”

 

She was rewarded with applause and a smile from the smuggler. "A shame you never did become a proper noblewoman. I would have paid money to see your potential suitors scramble for your hand in marriage."

 

Roen tucked a stray hair behind her ear and sat down again. "I think I prefer the ways of… what do Eorzeans call it, an 'adventurer.' The paths of paladinhood. Much like you, I cannot see myself settled in a house to live out my days."

 

"Heh. Perhaps that will change in our twilight years."

 

“Perhaps,” she mused. “I am in no hurry to get into petticoats. I am never sure why such things are so popular, both north and south of the border!”

 

"It was meant to… exaggerate one's form, I believe," Nero's hazy response was tinged with some awkwardness. "Not that you'd have trouble in that department," he flashed a smirk at the paladin.

 

Roen made a face. This was not the first time he had remarked upon her clothing whenever she was out of her armor. She tugged at her loose tunic absently. "Does my manner of dress really seem that ostentatious to you? I was just going by the advice of Yellow Moon in the Weaver's Guild. She seemed to know what she was talking about." There were doubts leaking into her words.

 

The smuggled grinned. "No… well, perhaps. You present the image of a lady knight. Any deficiency in modesty seems… out of character. If you have any doubts, however, be assured that I do enjoy what I see." His tone was daring even though he glanced away again.

 

"I suppose I am still trying to figure out who I am. No longer a Sworn, learning what it is to be a paladin, an ex-Garlean..."

 

"Why does it matter? Why can you not simply be Roen Deneith, a woman who believes in what is right?"

 

"That is at least one thing I am sure of, my beliefs." Roen smiled, then drew in a breath. “One thing I am not sure about is..." She peered up at him. "What we are. Are we friends?"

 

She was met with a look of genuine surprise from the pirate. He glanced away. "I… don't know."

 

Roen took the opportunity to study him carefully; she was almost expecting the charming rogue to make a return. A part of her was relieved that he did not put that mask back on.

 

"I honestly don't know where I stand with you, Roen."

 

"Let us be honest then." Her voice had softened, even the sound of the waves seemed quieter. "Where do I stand with you, Nero?"

 

"I don't know. I don't..." He sounded as unsure as she had ever heard him. "I've… never known someone like you. Someone who did not expect something in return. Someone who did not want some form of compensation." He glanced back at her, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't think I've even decided whether or not I fully believe your selflessness." That, oddly, seemed the gravest truth from him yet.

 

She just regarded him without judgement. "That is for you to decide. I have already asked you the one thing I truly wanted." She glanced back down to her hand, where she began to absently play with the blade of grass again. "I am… not entirely selfless. I do want things. But… I think I often wrestle with what I want, and what I want to see for others."

 

"Then what is it you want from me? I know you want me to be better, but that is something you want me to become. What is it you want from me?"

 

"I… I am… not sure." Her voice had lowered to a whisper. “I am not good at this. This." She gestured between them. "I have never… and you have but..." She was struggling with her words. Why was this so difficult to say? "I know how to protect people and defend their lives and I know what is right and what is wrong. But this. It is… not right or wrong. It is just..."

 

It was then that Nero reached his arm out, pulling her closer to him. "Then let me help you decide… if you will have me." His face was now dangerously close to hers. She could feel his breath upon her cheeks.

 

Roen swallowed, her own breaths coming quick but shallow. Her eyes darted between his, studying the icy blue gaze. She then looked to his nose, following its course to his lips. Before she knew it, she leaned in and placed her lips against his. It was a tentative touch, a light brush.

 

Nero pulled his head back from her momentarily, his eyes blinking in surprise. But then he leaned forward again and returned with another kiss, this one much more aggressive than her own. The motion repeated a few more times, where he would release his hold over her, only to kiss her again with equal parts force and gentleness. It was a dance, an intimate waltz that seemed to simultaneously last forever and yet not long enough.

 

Their sparking passion was far too quickly interrupted by a crackle in Nero's ear. The pirate pulled his head away from hers, though his hand remained upon hers, where they had somehow become entwined together upon the soft grass.

 

"I believe… I may have missed an appointment," he said breathlessly, allowing his lips to meet hers again ever so briefly.

 

It took another breath to register his words, her cheeks bright red. "An... an appointment?"

 

The smuggler kissed her again. "I did not expect our meeting to go on for as long as it did."

 

She smiled warmly, no longer caring about the flush to her face. "Ah, I did not expect... that is..." She tucked a stray lock behind her ear, trying to suppress a smile. Too late for modesty but she tried anyways. "This was not what I had planned."

 

"It is best when it is unexpected," he smirked at her, caressing her face. "Trust me on that.” His hand lingered for a moment longer. "I'd best not keep my clients waiting. Mayhaps we can continue this on the morrow, if it pleases you, my lady Deneith." There was a lingering sense of regret as he slowly released her hand and rose.

 

"It... it would." Roen swallowed as she rose with him. "Aye."

 

He gave her a slight nod, with one last parting kiss on her cheek. "Then we will meet later."

 

The paladin watched him leave, this time taking his chocobo in a slow walk. She cupped her cheeks with her hands to find them burning, but she did not care. Her smile would not abate. She broke out into a light laughter when Goldwind came next to her with a quiet coo, and rubbed his beak against her hair.

 

 

[align=center]~[/align]

 

 

“Sewing is hard. One of the buttons may come off.”

 

A droplet of moisture. Then another upon the bronze buttons that stared up at her, its round yellow face made of felt stained with tears.

 

Her thumb trembled as the paladin traced the seams, every last imperfection sewn in with care and determination. Confidence hampered by frustration, dissatisfaction despite the earnest intentions… that was who he was, was it not? This very thing nestled within her hands, staring back up at her…

 

“I thought I wanted you to join my side.”

 

She had told herself that she had been a fool to believe that he wanted to be a better man. That the hope she held for him was naught but her own imagination. His promises were words of convenience, a rope thrown to a drowning person with the intent to lure them in. Their confessed feelings for each other had been birthed out of pure loneliness in a sea of darkness.

 

“But what I wanted was to be able to go to yours.”

 

She had promised no more tears, that she was done with sadness. But as she stared at his last confession to her, gone from her mind were their last conversation at Aleport--angry, indignant words of accusation.

 

All that she could remember was the laughter and the kisses they shared. She missed his caress upon her cheek, his jovial mask, and his snarky retorts. And she missed those rare glimpses of genuine compassion... and even the doubts and the exhaustion that weighed him so.

 

Roen held the doll tightly to her chest as sobs rose, and allowed herself to grieve for the death of the man she had loved.

[Roen]

“Aye ser, that blizzard was somethin’ else. I couldn’t see Fenco standin’ within an ilm o’ my own knees.”

 

“How is it that you and Fenco got lost together if you could not even see each other?”

 

The conversation between Idristan Tournes and Hobard Blacke barely filtered through her senses. Roen sat at the table within Camp Dragonshead, her beef stew untouched and cold in front of her, a thick hunk of crumbling bread equally ignored beside it. She could feel Bellows studying her from the corner of his eyes, but the paladin did not care. She said nothing as Stray Oak’s hand hovered for a moment over her uneaten bread, before it was snatched up and away by the Roegadyn. She just stared absently at her once-steaming soup even as the knight-captain continued to inquire about the botched caravan escort in Coerthas Western Highlands many suns ago.

 

“He’s exaggerating a bit,” the Lalafell seated across from her piped up in his nasally voice. “We thought we saw some suspicious activity on the road and thought we should investigate. Deneith went ahead with the caravan and we stayed behind.”

 

“And then you were unable to catch up with the caravan until back at Falcon’s Nest?” The Elezen sounded skeptical.

 

Fenco and Blacke exchanged a look and then both shrugged helplessly.

 

The knight let out an exasperated sigh and turned to the paladin. “And you encountered a bandit on the road while they were gone, Deneith?”

 

Roen’s blinked, dragging her attention back to the conversation at hand. She knitted her brows as she tried to work through the murk that was her memories. It had been only a sun since she had returned back to duty, since Ser Tournes had ordered her out of her self sequestration after her receipt of Nero’s parcel. She had not given the caravan incident a second thought, since it had been many suns before, even before Delial and Kage found her. With all that had happened, some lone bandit in the middle of a blizzard was the last thing that was on her mind.

 

“I did, but our encounter was short,” she replied without meeting anyone’s eyes. “I wounded him in the chest and he knocked me out. I woke up shortly after and he was gone.”

 

Idristan Tournes drummed his fingers against the wooden table, clearly not satisfied with the answers he was getting. But he pursued it no longer, instead rising to his feet and taking up his shield that had been set aside.

 

“We have border patrol until the next moon,” he said in a tone that would brook no argument. He ignored a distant groan from Stray Oak. “A thankless job, but it has to be done. We will rotate in shifts, starting with Blacke, Fenco, and Deneith for tonight.”

 

When the rest of the sellswords shuffled out, the knight-captain remained behind, crossing his arms and looming over Roen who still sat unmoving at the table.

 

“I do not know what troubles you left behind, Deneith.” His voice was quiet, its usual severity absent. “Nor will I ask. But Halone’s icy glaciers cannot bury everything.”

 

When the paladin did not answer nor even meet his eyes, the Elezen leaned over and placed something on the table next to her soup. It was two amethyst earrings set in filigrees of silver and gold. It snapped her attention back at him, eyes wide.

 

“Where did you get this?”

 

Idristan shook his head with a surly tug of his lips. “Do not forget the Forgotten Knight shares its doors with the residents of The Brume and the lowborns. The starved and the poor do not care who they steal from. If they can, they will.” His word held no contempt, despite his frown. “The Innkeeper found a youngster trying to make out of your room with a box and all the contents within, these earrings included. I’ve asked him to keep your box in safekeeping considering its contents...” he trailed off.

 

Roen lifted the earrings gently as she brought it before her eyes. It jingled lightly hanging from her fingertips, before she closed her hand around it and rested it against her chest.

 

The Elezen studied her a moment longer, before he reached into his breastplate, pulling out a thin silver chain. He unclasped it and laid it on the table in front of the paladin. “For things we want to keep close to our hearts,” he offered. “The pendant that used to hang from the chain is with a goldsmith to get it repaired. I had commissioned a better chain to go with it; it would be a shame to let this one go to waste.”

 

The paladin stared at the offering and nodded absently. “Gratitude.”

 

Idristan exhaled patiently and turned toward the door. “Perhaps the patrols will be good for you. There be naught but thoughts of how to stay warm and alive through the darkest of nights in Coerthas. When the Goddess rains Her wrath down upon thee, it is easy to forget thine own troubles.”

[Roen]

The ceremonial chords of the organs pulsated through the Saint Reymanaud Cathedral, echoing off the vaulted ceilings and permeating through every beam and stone. It was as if they wanted to herald to the world the august might of the Goddess of War, whose statue stood erect upon the altar with her spear and bronze greatshield at her sides. The shafts of colored daylight filtered in through the stained glass windows above her and crowned her head with an unworldly halo of brilliance.

 

The vision of Halone was meant to inspire awe and wonder to all her supplicants who looked upon her.

 

But rather than a paragon of strength, Roen only saw a lone, armored woman standing in solitude. Her stance was dignified, her shoulders squared with purpose... but the figure seemed cold and empty. She wondered if the woman within had ever been plagued with doubts. Did she ever falter under the weight of the knowledge that people of Ishgard all looked to her for deliverance? Or did that not matter to the Goddess of War, who only sought to unleash wrath upon all her enemies?

 

Roen often found her steps leading her here, to this place of worship, whenever her thoughts and wanderings became aimless. She did not like such idle times, especially within the city, but on too many occasions she was left to her own devices in between nightly patrols. Perhaps it was the music, or the austere architecture, but her seat at the back of the Cathedral became her refuge where she could come to drown her thoughts. Sorrow had become an unwanted, ghostly companion, and Roen had become desperate to part from it.

 

All of Ishgard seemed to implore the Mover of Glaciers for guidance, so why couldn’t she receive a similar epiphany? And yet, sun after sun, no such revelations came.

 

Until one ordinary afternoon, when an Elezen supplicant joined her, taking a seat on the pews next to her.

 

His armor, appearance, and mannerisms all spoke of an Ishgardian knight. But curiously enough, the Elezen was a Duskwight. The paladin peripherally knew of House of Dzemael, but had not come into much contact with Duskwights in Ishgard, much less one of knightly rank.

 

"Is aught amiss?" he had asked.

 

Roen was not sure why she did not dismiss his inquiry to her welfare. Perhaps a small part of her hoped to glean some answers of faith from a reverent knight rather than the silent idol.

 

"Are you devout?" she asked bluntly.

 

"While I would not call myself a priest, I have much faith, yes." He spoke softly but clearly; his regard of her was one of genteel courtesy.

 

"I came here seeking answers. I am finding none." Roen returned none of the cordiality as they spoke.

 

“Mayhaps then I can be of some aid.” He smiled amiably. “When I find myself here, 'tis oft to clear my thoughts. Providing such aid to another is but the least I can do."

 

"Your Goddess of War." The paladin did not hold his gaze for long, her eyes going back to the statue. "She holds a great shield, and yet it is her spear that represents her. Is it wrath that drives her? Or the determination to protect her people behind that shield?"

 

The Elezen pondered a moment. “While ‘tis true many see Halone's spear and look only to her wrath, some, including myself do not forget her shield. I am of the mind of the latter."

 

His sentiments… they were so similar to her own not so long ago. His pride in defending his people was obvious in his expression. It only made her frown. "If one does not take up the spear, if one does not destroy one's enemies, does that not only prolong the suffering of those you protect?"

 

"Such is true.” He did not seem to notice her darkened mood. “And yet the tale of loss is a common one amongst our people. I know not a single soul who has not been touched by it due to the war. One can wish to see peace without longing for war, can they not?"

 

“Some would say such wishes are made of fantasies and dreams. For those who seek to take up the shield, they should warn those shield bearers, they also need to kill. I have wondered if Halone shares such teachings to those of her faith."

 

Roen paid no mind as the knight turned to studied her, a curious look in his eyes. "One has need of both. To shield alone would invite a slow death, so one must needs strike with sword as well. I left behind the spear to take up shield some years past and I cannot say I regret such, despite my thoughts at the time."

 

That made her turn to peer up at him. "Why did you? Take up the shield rather than the spear? Did you find what you were looking for?"

 

"T'was not to search for anything that I did so.” He answered with a distant look. “Not at first. It was more disgust at those who sought to use their power to oppress others." He did not seem to take notice when Roen stiffened. "Taking up the shield was, to some, a dishonor. Father, brother, sister… each walked the path of the dragoon. And I would choose to do otherwise? Such was laughable. Dragoons are the elite. The highest and most holy defenders of our nation. A symbol of our strength."

 

He then turned to her, offering her a small smile. "And yet, if the spear Halone holds is a holy instrument, why should the shield be any less such?"

 

The paladin narrowed her eyes. "Many hold the idealism of protecting others and seeking peace without violent means as a virtue to be held above the rest." She sighed and fell back into her seat. "I have found such beliefs to be hollow."

 

"Violence, at times, is unavoidable,” the knight said quietly.

 

"Violence upon good people at times... is unavoidable." Roen echoed as she stared straight ahead.

 

"Perhaps. This is not a world free from such. Beasts, men, all manner of creature exist… some of which only understand the language of violence."

 

She was starting to find some comfort in his words. Was it his faith in Halone that lent him such composure? "...Do you believe in sacrifice?"

 

The Elezen drew a long, slow breath. "I believe sometimes such is necessary. Part at times must be sacrificed for the better of the whole. 'Tis neither easy nor as noble as is depicted in tales."

 

Roen bowed her head, her forelocks falling before her eyes. His words were not missing their marks, whether he had intended to or not. Suddenly what brief reprieve she had found in his wisdom had turned to remorse. "Nay, it is not easy." Her own voice emerged as a hoarse whisper. "Or noble."

 

His voice had quieted as well. "Not to the one who offers up the sacrifice, no. Perhaps to those who remember it."

 

She fought the warmth that threatened to blur her vision. A part of her was angry that she could be so easily stirred. Her hands clenched into fists as she remained silent for a long time, and the Elezen remained as he was, unobtrusively patient. The paladin swiped at her cheeks and inhaled deeply. "Perhaps I should have sought the teachings of Halone sooner. If such wisdom is imparted upon her followers."

 

The knight offered a rather hollow sounding chuckle. "Mayhaps, though I would venture to say your questions may have found a different answer should you have asked others."

 

Roen no longer turned to face him. "I have infringed on your time long enough, good ser. Gratitude for your time and answers.”

 

He quirked a brow at her. "I trust your curiosity to be sated then?"

 

The paladin shook her head as she stood. “Nay, but you reminded me that the world is full of losses. For me to dwell on mine own does nothing."

 

The Duskwight rose when she did. “I am glad to have been of some assistance. Mayhaps should our paths cross again, you will have found some of which you seek."

 

Roen allowed herself to peer up at him, unable to shed her lingering sense of sadness. "I hope you can remain a shield bearer. One without regrets."

 

He looked upon her questioningly but eventually nodded. "Life oft has them, fellow shield bearer. We can only hope to carry the right ones in the end."

 

The paladin shook her head quickly. "I am a poor shield bearer. I should have taken up the spear. The greatsword. The axe. Anything but the damnable shield." Her words were turning bitter.

 

The knight canted his head, his voice remaining soft. "And why, praytell would that be?"

 

Roen glanced to the exit. She no longer wanted to be here, speaking with this stranger about all the misery in her heart. "That is not a tale anyone should wish to hear. Nor one I wish to share." She bowed curtly. "My apologies, that I cannot offer you the same courtesy in suitable answers."

 

The Elezen exhaled and waved a hand. "No apology is needed. 'Tis not my intent to pry, m'lady. Such… is perhaps still an open wound. Of this I understand well. It needs time to heal." There was a small pause before he continued. “Mayhaps 'tis forward to say as such, but there is little harm in one who bears the shield allowing some measure of selfishness."

 

The paladin instantly glared at him. "But what cost? My past selfishness allowed for things that should have never happened."

 

The knight folded his arms. "Tis one to measure is it not? We oft give of ourselves, every onze of our essence to protect others. If one does not allow time for yourself… you will simply give until you are spent. And should such a thing happen? Your shield will be of little use to anyone, especially oneself."

 

Roen shook her head. "Ser... I have much to atone for." Her gaze lowered, and she knew not why her next confession left her lips before this stranger. “Perhaps it was not answers I sought here." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Perhaps I sought forgiveness.”

 

"Another gifting such a thing to you would do little if you have not accepted it for yourself, my friend."

 

"Well then, it is futile for me to seek it here." She forced another frown to chase away all else. She bowed sharply at the waist before turning. "Gratitude, once again."

 

Her armored footsteps echoed over the stone floor as she made her hurried exit, the music of the cathedral's organs now distant and muted to her ears.

[Roen]

They were supposed to be dragonkin.

 

Roen stared at the bloodied men and women huddled on the ground, their hands shackled behind their backs. More bodies laid beyond them in the snow, crimson stains spattered beneath them and across the frozen landscape. Severed limbs and scattered weapons littered the road, as well as the overturned caravan that still billowed smoke from the conflict that had ended mere moments ago.

 

Heretics. Roen had been sent to assist a squad of mercenaries and temple knights as they were to intercept what was thought to be a group aevis attacking a caravan on the road to Falcon’s Nest. But when they arrived, it was not dragonkin they found, but rather a group of armored men and women--declared to be heretics by the temple knights--attacking the convoy.

 

Dragonkin were easy to identify. Scaled, horned monsters that bore fangs and claws as they tore into human flesh, Roen felt no hesitation in fighting such fiends. But these assailants were Elezen and Hyur; they wore the same faces as those she had defended, and spoke with same intelligence and fervor as any religious zealot that she had encountered within the walls of Ishgard. And now, with naught to comfort them but the anticipation of what was to come and the frozen embrace of the frigid breeze, the fires of pious belief that had fuelled their crusade had vanished and in its place knelt the desperate common peasants in tattered, rusted armour, barely mustering the energy to shoot baleful glances at their opponents.

 

“Line them up!” Ser Marat shouted to the men. The mercenaries that Roen had accompanied then began to lift the chained captives up along the side of the road. Their knees trembled with each rough pull that forced them to kneel in the soft snow drift. The Elezen gave a nod to the rest of the temple knights who then began to draw their swords once more. The symphony of steel leaving scabbard caused one of the heretics to visibly cringe, and the knights grasped their weapons upright in both hands in practised stances. Though their faces were not visible beneath their helmets, their hardened gazes focusing on the heretics said enough: this was to be judgment.

 

“What are you doing, ser?” Roen asked under her breath as she approached the commanding temple knight.

 

Although Ser Marat had recognized her from their encounter in Brume many sennights ago and had accepted Ser Tournes’ offer to have her join his ranks for a sun, his expression quickly soured at the question. “Execution, Deneith.” Ser Marat said pointedly, in the same way that one might describe the current colour of the sky.

 

The paladin's eyes widened. “Should they not undergo a trial?”

 

The knight arched a contemptuous brow. “We witnessed their crimes against Ishgardian citizenry firsthand. They bore arms against the sanctioned knights of the Holy See. There is no ambiguity in their guilt, Deneith.” His words were clipped and scathing. “No trial is needed. Only the administration of their sentence.”

 

A dark scowl twisted her expression as she turned from the Elezen to the scene on the road; the prisoners were put to their knees with their heads bent forward to expose the nape of their necks. The rest of the soldiers had their swords drawn and ready, standing almost completely still like statues or chess pieces. Roen wondered with dismay if this was a regular practice for them.

 

The mercenaries and the knights all looked to Ser Marat for the final order, but it never came. A distant warning shout and the aggressive howl of a hunter's horn brought all eyes to the fore.

 

Through the light flurry of snow appeared several riders, many of them armored. Contrasting sharply with the functional chainmail of the temple knights, the new arrivals wore shimmering silver plate mail, immaculate in their polish and make. Their faces were hidden by helmets topped with flourishing azure tassels, matched by brilliant barding donned by their chocobos. Ser Marat barked another order and the Ishgardians parted so they could approach. Only one rider rode forward, dressed in dark cerulean robes trimmed in silver, the insignia of Ishgard emblazoned upon his breast. His face was obscured by the cowl of a heavy woolen cloak, but his steps carried confidence as he strode up to Ser Marat and leaned close to confide in the temple knight. Roen was not within earshot of the conversation, but she could see the temple knight’s expression shifting from irritation to one of reluctant acceptance.

 

“Of course we will comply, Inquisitor Bellamont,” was all the paladin could hear from their exchange, bitter words only barely kept from being uttered from behind clenched teeth. But she watched Ser Marat give a deep bow to the head rider, who now visibly wore robes of the Inquisitor under his heavy wool cloak.

 

A second rider -- a lean, aged Elezen -- rode forward, dark eyes narrowed with disdain as he looked down the length of his long nose. He, too, was dressed in the cerulean robes of the Inquisition, but he was lacking in the first inquisitor's shroud. His hawk-like features glared balefully at the execution line, and it was impossible to tell if his scorn was for the heretics or the knights. “Give praise to Halone, for the bell of your death has been belayed.” His eyes swept the row of heretics, many of them who now looked upon him with an expression of shocked relief. “All these transgressors are under arrest by the authority of the Inquisition.”

 

Roen exhaled, some tension lost from her shoulders. She never thought she would be relieved to see an Inquisitor, much less witness them granting what seemed to be a mercy to heretics.

 

“Rise to your feet, sinners. Some of you will be afforded the fortuity of atonement. Raise your voices in both praise and sorrow for the tribulations you shall face, for should you conquer them, even you may be redeemed.”

 

A few questioning glances were exchanged between the mercenaries, but the knights were immediate to obey. Such was the authority wielded by the Inquisition. The heretics were brought to their feet and lined up, leather collars clasped to their necks as they were strung together and marched away

 

“Where there is fear, we carry light.” The Elezen’s cold voice rang clear as a bell as he and his armored soldiers disappeared into the snowfall along with the prisoners.

 

Roen breathed a sigh of relief as she watched them ride away. More than a few of Ser Marat’s men grumbled in seeming disappointment as they began to gather up what was left of the caravan, but the paladin remained staring after the Inquisitor and his company. It was the first time since Roen's arrival to the north that she had witnessed any act of leniency granted by the Holy See. A tentative sense of gratification filled her heart, knowing that despite the strict and unbending fealty demanded by the theocracy, the church was still capable of some measure of forbearance.

 

Perhaps Coerthas, was not such an unforgiving place after all.

[Roen]

"I hope you can remain a shield bearer. One without regrets."

 

"Life oft has them, fellow shield bearer. We can only hope to carry the right ones in the end."

 

Regrets.

 

There were times when Roen had forgotten the weight of it. It was still there, like the cold that always pervaded Ishgard, but on some suns it was easier to ignore than others. Busying herself with fighting, patrolling, or just struggling to stay warm, daily tribulations would divert her attention so that even for just a few bells she carried on as if the last year had not happened. But in those rare moments where a smile or a laugh could have risen, Roen only felt a sense of emptiness inside, and it was then that she was reminded why she had come here. And in her periods of solitude, especially when the night fell, the memories returned.

 

The paladin was thankful for her nightly patrols, for in the morning when she retired to her room, she immediately surrendered to sleep from exhaustion. Her mind seemed too tired to even dream. But in the few bells after she woke, before she was sent out on her next assignment, she had to seek out some other sort of a distraction within the city. And her steps led her once again to the Saint Reymanaud Cathedral.

 

Despite the fact that the last time she sat within the church, the words that were imparted to her threatened to break her composure that eventually she fled her company, Roen found herself under the vaulted ceilings again, staring at the austere statue of Halone.

 

And when the familiar voice greeted her from across the pews and the paladin recognized the Duskwight knight again, she was surprised that her apprehensions did not return. After all, was it not his words that made her return to this place for rumination?

 

"More questions, I take it?" the Elezen asked quietly.

 

"As ever.” She returned a polite nod to him. “I hear nothing but organ pipes here, and yet I continue to return to stare at a silent statue. I suppose the devout may glean more wisdom from this place.”

 

The knight lowered his head with a quiet laugh before he rose and walked around the back to take a seat near her. "Mayhaps. Or mayhaps 'tis merely the calming presence which draws those near to such a place as this."

 

Roen lowered her gaze, her tone one of apology. "I wish not to impinge upon your time of reflection, yet again."

 

"If you were doing as such, would I have joined you here?" He waved a hand, nonchalant. "Be at ease, friend."

 

Roen was not so quick to want to refuse his company this time. "Your words when we last spoke... they stayed with me.” Her confession was nearly drowned out by the blare of the organ. “I suppose, who better to ask than the person who imparted such wisdom?"

 

He cast a sidelong glance her way. "It is my hope such was not of discomfort."

 

The paladin met his gaze, her expression pensive. "Regret. It weighs upon me. You said... we hope to carry the right ones in the end. How does one know?"

 

The Duskwight exhaled, seemingly considering her question for a moment. "Only in hindsight. In the moment we are distracted… and directly after, lost in our feelings and thoughts in what may have been or could have been. I am oft given to consider things logically. Weighing for and against for every decision and the outcomes thereafter." He sighed quietly. "Make no mistake, regrets, by definition are not pleasant."

 

He glanced back to the paladin after a pause. "But some? Some can be lived with."

 

"Hindsight." Roen exhaled, her frame sinking into her seat slightly. “We have no choice in that, aye? What is the alternative?"

 

"The alternative?” The Elezen arched a brow. “To become lost adrift in the past, forever doubting, forever questioning. Never moving beyond the moment and moments of action or inaction.” He slightly shifted in his seat, his expression intent. “You must decide. Will you merely carry the matter or learn from it? The past, as they say, can repeat itself for the unfortunate."

 

The paladin stared at her fists on her lap, avoiding his scrutiny. "And yet, if you cannot reconcile that you did the right thing, if you forever regret and question..."

 

"Do you believe you did the right thing?"

 

A long pause followed. This was the same question she had asked herself many times over since Aleport. "I did. I believed, for many suns, nay sennights that followed, that it was the only choice I could have made." A deep frown darkened her expression. "But… I have only recently discovered something that I did not know at the time."

 

The Elezen turned back to the statue, crossing his arms. "Mm. This was something you had no way of knowing, I take it?"

 

Roen shook her head. "I thought I could live with what I did." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "That the sacrifice that was made... the price was something I was willing to pay. But the cost... turned out to be so much greater."

 

"You cannot change the past, however."

 

Her head dipped in acknowledgement, and stayed there, held low. "Would that I could."

 

"A wish shared by countless, of that I can say with certainty. No. All that we who live can do is move forward. T'would be a disgrace to those who cannot, to do any less." He turned his head back towards her with a warm smile. "Perhaps it is naive to think as such, but I am of the mind that as long as one draws breath, there can be hope. Scars serve to remind of the wound itself, as it takes time for them to heal.”

 

"You seem hopeful, shield bearer.” Her own voice sounded hollow in its sentiment. He was naive. She wanted to tell him so, this stranger who still bore hope for the world despite the pains and the darkness that pervaded it. And yet, she wanted that unwavering faith for herself again. She narrowed her eyes on the Elezen. "I would guess you are my senior by many years yet. Do you have scars of your own?"

 

The knight nodded slowly. "Of course. Scars come to us all, though as we have agreed, those who carry shields oft are prone to being wounded while protecting others."

 

“I thought, bearing a shield would be the most honorable and unquestionably the right thing to do.” Roen sighed. “The thought of being able to protect others... it called to me. And yet I found that in trying to protect everyone, to save everyone, I failed so many." The paladin hung her head once more, her tone one of remorse. "My hubris blinded me to the possibility that I would fail. And the consequences it would bring."

 

The knight’s voice remained calm, soothing. "And yet, in the desire to save many, you have done so. Not all as none… none among us could do such. While we have failed few, I am certain many more have been saved."

 

Roen felt a constricting grip around her heart. "But..." She peered back at him, struggling to keep her composure. But in this, she could not. "What if that one person you failed... was the one you wanted to save most of all?"

 

The serenity in the knight’s countenance faded then, as he met her gaze only for an instant before he looked away. He bowed his head and his dark hair covered his face, hiding his expression from hers. She saw his lips part, but no sound came, not for several moments more. When he finally spoke, his voice had lowered, perhaps a sign of the wound she had inadvertently found.

 

"Then… we resolve to be better,” he said quietly without looking up. “To never let such things happen again beneath our watch.”

 

Roen watched him in silence. It may have been his own sadness, or the fact that this stranger who had only been a source of consoling smiles and steadfast hope had wounds of his own... that she found her own melancholy lessening somewhat. He was not so naive after all. "Is this the scar you bear?"

 

When the Elezen looked back to her, it was with a sad twinge to his smile. "More than one, I am afraid. But yes. It is."

 

"How long?" she whispered. "How long before the wounds closed..?"

 

The Duskwight exhaled slowly. "That I cannot say. The wound has healed and yet at times I feel the pangs of the injury. Oft due to memories, a sight shared, promises made. It is sad to know such ebbs and flows with time only serving to lessen the bite."

 

Roen frowned. The memories of sights and promises… they were what plagued her thoughts. These were not words of comfort for her. "And you saved many at the cost of one?"

 

"One saved me, I am afraid. And the other… saved yet sacrificed in one fell swoop."

 

The paladin gave him a sidelong glance. "Would you make that choice again?"

 

The knight curled a wistful smile, looking back to Halone. "I have asked myself such time and time again. If I were to have died then, all whom I have saved or helped in the time after… what would become of them? Would another aid them? Would they perish without me? Such is folly to think, in truth. And yet… what is the worth of one? Of myself?"

 

He paused, as if to replay the memories in his mind’s eye. “She was sacrificed but yet may live. Otherwise, death was assured.”

 

Roen watched him carefully, her brows knitting as she tried to understand the pieces of his own history he was offering. She did not want to pry further, but recognized the distant melancholy that colored his mood. "So perhaps all is not lost. There may still be hope for you shield bearer, that this scar will heal completely."

 

"Time, as they say, shall tell the tale." He studied the statue in contemplation for a moment longer before looking back to the paladin. "Yet and still, I would not cut mine arm away to remove a scar. I must simply carry it." His expression had lost its amiable air, his countenance that of intent determination.

 

Roen blinked, considering his words. "One day, perhaps I too will say the same about mine own. " She nodded, her own composure regained. "You at least give me some measure of hope of that possibility."

 

The Elezen smiled, bowing his head politely. "I am grateful for that. Forgive my saying such, but you yet appear to be in short supply. By appearance alone."

 

The paladin curled her lips in a reassuring expression, but no warmth rose from within. "I am afraid my wounds are still fresh." She turned back to Halone. "I pray that time will… lessen the bite someday. But the strength of your resolve... I have yet to discover it for myself."

 

The knight too turned his gaze back to Halone. "Perhaps that too will come in time. I pray Halone will guide you to such."

 

Roen took those words to heart, before she stood and bowed. "Gratitude, yet once again. It seems you are the one that answers my questions when I seek them from a silent deity."

 

The knight stood as well, bowing in return. "Were I of the clergy, mayhaps I would say she merely speaks through me." He canted his head, his eyes studying her for a moment.

 

The paladin’s expression softened. "I think your own scars and experiences do better."

 

The Elezen returned a smile and a nod. "As of now… I will merely state I am glad to provide aid."

 

"I shall leave you to your prayers, kind ser."

 

"May Halone guide you, shield bearer. Be well."

 

The hum of pipe organs had faded, at least for a moment, allowing the echo of Roen's bootsteps to crawl across the high ceiling as she exited the cathedral. She heard only her thoughts, however, but for the first time in a long time they weren't deafening.

[Roen]

Roen stepped out through the heavy double doors of the Saint Reymanaud Cathedral, her eyes squinting as the darkness of the church was washed away by the snow-brushed brightness of a rare luminous afternoon. Snowflakes spun and twirled in their descent, and her breaths still puffed in a cloud of white steam before her lips.

 

It was four bells after the midday, always on the sixth sun of each sennight. She had returned to this place of worship after their first two encounters; the first one was by chance, and second one by fortuitous happenstance. Then in the following sennights, she had found herself waiting for the same bell and day to return.

 

It was all to speak to her anonymous confessor--a Duskwight knight of Ishgard and a fellow shield bearer.

 

Roen still knew not the Elezen’s name, but it mattered little. She knew of his proud family, who held their duty to Ishgard above all else. She knew of their allegiance to the Holy See and their honored tradition of serving as dragoons. The paladin had also learned that her polite and well-spoken confidant had chosen to go against his family’s wishes and bear a shield instead.

 

Was it that common thread--both of them being shield bearers--that drew her to seek his advice? Or was it the security in anonymity that she felt some freedom in sharing some of her deepest doubts?

 

As they spoke under the arched roof of the cathedral, Roen found more commonality between her and the knight. Even though she could not ultimately admit to the exact nature of her own losses, she had shared with this stranger her guilt in failing someone who was precious to her. And he in turn, admitted the same. The blame the knight held for himself in losing his sister still seemed to weigh heavily upon him, even though he admitted it was a distant scar rather than an open wound. The paladin found herself promising to pray for his sister’s welfare, if a prayer ever left her lips. Where as he feared the worst, she held some hope that the one he held dear, still lived.

 

Was that the reason then, that Roen felt free to admit her own guilt about her brother, the next time they spoke? While the Duskwight had forfeited his honor and duty to try and save his sister, and eventually be ostracized by his family for his sacrifice, Roen had done the very opposite. In losing someone she loved, she ran away from her family and friends. And when Delial and Kage sought her out to ask her for her aid, the paladin turned them away.

 

She was not ready to face her brother or anyone else that cared for her. Roen had worked so hard to construct her fortress of apathy, she was not prepared to tear it down yet.

 

But the fate of her missing brother still plagued her thoughts. Roen told herself time and again that she had sent the most capable tracker to aid them. If Kiht could not help Delial and Kage, who else could? Certainly not she.

 

The paladin told Delial more than once that she did not want to be involved. The Highlander had acquiesced begrudgingly. The keen woman seemed to suspect that something had happened, but kept her silence on the matter. There was fire lit within her amber eye that Roen knew that Delial would not stop until Gharen was found. And she had Kage standing by her side. That should have eased her mind. That should have been enough.

 

And yet…

 

She could not ignore that small sliver of doubt whenever the apprehensions returned. She confessed those thoughts to the Duskwight knight; since he had been exiled by his family for choosing his sister over all else, Roen could not imagine that her revelation would be met with anything but disapproval.

 

But no such censure came. He asked for more details on the circumstances, but when all was said and done, he sympathized with her need for solitude. Even from her family. He also offered gentle encouragement to allow herself to face her fears and her loved ones when she was ready.

 

“What is it that you said about forgiveness?” Roen had said in response. “Another gifting such to me would mean little… if I am not ready to accept it."

 

The Duskwight then answered her with something she was not expecting, a smile. "I must say, it is refreshing to have one listen so intently to my words."

 

That made the paladin pause, blinking. There was a reluctant and unexpected curl to the corner of her lips as well. "You have no idea... how your words stayed with me." She shook her head again but this time it was with less sobriety. “You are wiser than you know.”

 

The knight only smiled wider with a dip of his head. "Ah, mayhaps I am then. I would not have considered such before."

 

She exhaled, a quick release of breath with a hint of rebuke. "Then perhaps it is I who is out of sorts. I usually do not pay such close attention to strangers." Her tone remained neutral, but some of that somber cloud was dissipating from her mind. "Believing a deity speaking through you and all that."

 

The Elezen grinned but shook his head. "I cannot say I would ever claim such for myself!"

 

Roen pursed her lips, rolling her eyes slightly. "Would I be getting better guidance from the clergy then?"

 

His grin was now ear to ear. "I do believe you stated you much preferred mine words to that of the robed clergy."

 

"At least our attentiveness is mutual,” she acquiesced begrudgingly. “Aye, shield bearer. I do think your wisdom exceeds that of the clergy."

 

Perhaps it was the fact that the organs had just finished their song and was preparing another, that her words carried a bit too far. Another Elezen noble seated on the pews ahead of them gave her an incredulous glare over his shoulder. The paladin pressed her lips together as she glanced away, clearing her throat.

 

Amusement only seemed to grow on the knight’s visage as he shook his head at her. He offered the noble a polite dip of his head. "Quite mutual, indeed." He turned to her with an earnest smile. "I am grateful for these conversations, however."

 

Roen widened her eyes, a sense of relief washing over her. “Are you? Whatever for? It is I who should be grateful. I always seem to come here and demand answers from you, Ser Knight. And never return the same consideration."

 

The Elezen quirked a brow, apparently bewildered. "Is such how you view our interactions? Truly?" He canted his head in thought. “I believe I have learned much from speaking with you as well as listening. I have stared at mine self and mine own wounds. You have never demanded anything of me, my friend."

 

The paladin chewed her lower lip. "I am... glad," she finally said softly. "In my own struggles, I know I have only asked. And asked again. It is you who have found a way to turn that into something hopeful and benign.”

 

He inclined his head in a nod. "And I have but answered, conversed where I can. Tis enjoyable, truly."

 

She snorted softly. "Enjoyable. Surely, you are just humoring me."

 

The knight arched his brow again, with a hint of an admonishment in his voice. "Were it not, would I return time and again to speak with a woman whom I do not know?"

 

Roen blinked. "...And here I thought I was the clever one, somehow discerning your schedule on visiting this place."

 

"Truly?” A look of amusement split across his face. “I thought I found myself here in times that you would arrive."

 

A hand rose to cover her mouth, and hide her sheepish expression. "Well then." She wrinkled her nose. "I suppose we were both clever and yet not as clever as we thought."

 

"What a strange pair we are.” He then flashed her a bright, genuine grin.

 

Roen regarded him oddly, but her expression eased with a slight curl of her lips. "Indeed." She exhaled, organ music filling the silence between them.

 

"Gratitude," she said quietly.

 

"Much and more back to you,” he nodded.

 

Then as if remembering herself, she inhaled quickly and rose. "I should go, however. I have indulged myself long enough."

 

The Elezen rose as she did. "But of course. It was, as always, a pleasure." He bowed deeply at the waist.

 

Roen bowed in return, her frame having lost much of the tension from before. "I will... continue to think myself clever... next sennight." There is an upward tug to one corner of her lips.

 

To that, the Duskwight laughed. "And I shall likewise do so. Be well, Shieldbearer."

 

A stranger and a confidant…

 

Roen raised her hand to shield her eyes as she looked up at the sky, the distant shafts of sunlight somehow breaking through the eternal grayness of this wintry place. That was when her reverie was broken by an approach of a familiar figure as Stray Oak lumbered up the steps leading to the Cathedral.

 

“Deneith! Ser Tournes is looking for you.” The Hellsguard gave her a shrug when she quirked a questioning brow. “Blacke and Fenco again. They didn’t report back in time. He probably wants ya ta go track ‘em down.”

 

The paladin let out a long exasperated sigh and nodded. Those two were becoming a thorn on her side when it came to their indolence.

 

“I didn’t know ya were a religious type,” Oak said, eyeing the cathedral with some measure of suspicion.

 

Roen shrugged, a small amused curl to one corner of her lips rising as she began to walk away. “I am not. But I have found that confessions are surprisingly cathartic.”

 

 

 

 

[[Events that follow can be found here]]

[Roen]

The well-paved streets of the Pillars echoed Roen’s brisk footsteps as the paladin descended the avenue from the higher wealthy district towards Foundation. She minded not the drifting snowfall from above; her brows were bent, and her expression dark as the skies.

 

What does he know? Roen fumed as she recalled the words she and Khadai had exchanged, her arms swinging quickly by her side. She was not even sure what she had expected. Had they not begun their first encounter in a standoff? So why did his adamant views suddenly vex her? His stubbornness was as it had ever been, as was his brusque nature.

 

“You are a people of paradoxes. You see fit to ignore those people, to simply bury them beneath excuses. 'We do not have arms.' 'We do not have resources.' Yet for that one occasion, all focus was on bringing them a single day of relief. I would ask why you believe such a thing is acceptable."

 

Khadai’s solution was simple, his ideas unbending. His belief of how a society should behave was so even-handed and efficient, it was almost laughable that he expected such a thing to exist outside of his own idyllic tribe.

 

And yet, despite his idealistic views, he could not understand the purpose behind a sentimental gesture of giving comfort to those suffering even for one night. In his eyes it was futile; pointless, and perfunctory at best.

 

So was it his impossible utopian ideas that she was arguing against? Or his objection to charity? What made her dig in her heels and continue to argue against his views?

 

When she had tracked him down earlier, all she wanted was for him to reconsider in asking Eliane Dufresne the inflated fee he had demanded after passing out the food and drinks on the Elezen’s behalf in the Brume a few nights past. He asked for five times her promised payment after he completed the task, which found Eliane nearly speechless, initially, but the noblewoman gracefully agreed to it without protest.

 

"I believed the endeavour to be a waste of time. Thus I asked that compensation be raised in acknowledgement of that." Khadai explained when Roen asked him for his reasons. "That is your way here, is it not?"

 

Why did she think he would support such a cause? Perhaps she thought that his belief that every member in the society should share equally in both prosperity and poverty translated to altruistic gestures as well.

 

"What did that event accomplish?” Khadai exhaled. “It brought comfort to individuals for a day. Where are those individuals now?"

 

Roen scowled. "Same place. But a little less hungry. And perhaps a little less cold for a night."

 

"Same place," the Au Ra had echoed in a tone that could perhaps be called pitiable. He withdrew the slightly crumpled envelope from a pouch on his belt, the paper still sealed with the faded wax sigil of a bell. In one smooth motion, he tore the payment voucher into two pieces and flicked it idly with a finger, where the wind carried the fragments skipping down the cobbled streets. "Your efforts took them to the same place."

 

The stones beneath her boots turned more rough with loose gravel, the maintenance of the streets leading to the Brume not as immaculately maintained as those in the Pillars. Does he think such problems are so easily solved? She had contended that the solutions were not easy, and that others were making the effort for change, it was just slow in coming and fraught with conflicts and obstacles. But she knew deep down that things may never change, and she herself had not pushed for any either. The paladin had purposefully turned away from seeking out such causes because of her utter failure in Ul’dah.

 

Was that why she had grown angry at the Xaela? Because in his own way, he was questioning her inaction?

 

"Though it is not my place, I can speculate how we would solve your problems." Khadai’s tone had hardly wavered during their entire discussion; it was matter-of-fact, without boast. “Your Brume residents would be appraised for their role. Once organised, their equipment would be provided for by artisans. They would be fed by the hunters. The sick would be cared for. They would be guarded by Khadai. All will forfeit something for the greater whole, for it is a great society that gives way to great individuals."

 

It was so fair, systematic, and equal. Optimistic. Roen had heard similar plans like that before, reading over an outline for implementing changes in Ul’dah. She could still remember his small careful notes on the side on each page. And with that a shadow of his hopeful smile, his confident smirk, and his determined gaze flitted through her thoughts. A familiar pang returned to her chest. "And if there is not enough for all?"

 

The Au Ra had snorted. "There is enough here, for all. This is not Othard. To say otherwise is a simple denial. Those who have many forfeit what they possess to build a sustainable system for those who are lacking. A temporary cessation gives way to permanent solution."

 

"And if they refuse?"

 

“They would not refuse if they possessed sense." His observation was dry.

 

Khadai still had no understanding of people’s wont to put their own survival over the rest. The paladin too once thought that the world could be ruled by fairness, as he did. She once believed that justice would always prevail. That people would understand and support the efforts to aid those around them, even if it may be at a cost to themselves. She was wrong, and it was pointless to try and change that.

 

"The four Houses that rule Ishgard prefer to give on their own terms. They will not want to give up their comforts.” Roen frowned at him exasperatedly. "You underestimate people's want for power, but moreover, their fear of losing control. Of their security, of their way of life."

 

“And that is the difference between your peoples and mine." He jabbed a thumb at the house behind him. "This dwelling houses less than eight people. How many do you believe could utilize it for shelter?"

 

Roen stared at the random building. Its windows were frosted with heat from within and smoke wafted from its chimney top. She was certain the residents inside were well protected from the cold. “I do not understand it either," she murmured.

 

"Yet you defend it all the same."

 

Roen scowled instantly. "I do not defend those who hoard wealth for their own comfort!" Then what was she doing?

 

Khadai regarded her oddly. "I do not wish to imagine how confused you must be,” he had said quietly.

 

Her steps came to a stop; the paladin was standing still in the middle of the street in the Brume, staring down an alleyway in front her. She could see shivering figures crowded around a lit brazier, and a few more trembling bodies curled into a ball further down the unlit path.

 

She had given up on hopes for change. "I only wished for you to see that a little bit of charity for one night was not completely worthless. That is all." Her words had become terse toward the end of the conversation, her argument sounding hollow to her own ears. "I cannot fix this place.”

 

"And as long as you believe that, your 'little bits of charity' will continue to be worthless," the Au Ra returned.

 

Her fingers curled into a tight fist by her side, her head bent low as a cold gust blew through the Brume, tossing her hair before her eyes. He was right. And she hated it.

 

“Well noted.” Roen had stared at him coolly. "I will leave you to your guard duty. You can pontificate your views on the rest of the world and its faults just long enough before you make your way back home."

 

She had walked away from him angry. But as she now stood amidst the rubble of the Brume, the paladin knew she had only lashed out at the Xaela because of her own shame.

‘May you forever have the strength to defend what you believe.’

 

The distant mutterings of those gathered by the fire filtered through her senses as another gale shook the shudders of a few ruined buildings around her. She could see a woman waving her young child back indoors, and a glimpse of blonde braids made the paladin catch her breath. It was a young girl, but her height, her gaunt frame, it reminded her of another child she had left behind in Ul’dah. Sayer would be about her age now…

 

She lightly tugged at the silver chain around her neck, rolling the two amethyst pendants that hung from it between her fingers. The paladin then spun back around, gravel grinding and stone clacking beneath her boots as she marched out of the Brume, intent on the nearest mail moogle.

[Roen]

I feel like a pretender.

 

Roen shook her head as if to dismiss her own words, looping over and over in her memory. It was what Roen had confessed quietly to Martiallais Heuloix, on the eve of Starlight, as they passed out warm sustenance to the residents in The Brume. A part of her regretted the admission after the fact, for she did not want to explain the meaning the doubt truly held. So she departed hastily soon thereafter, not wanting to confide more in the knight, as she was wont to do whenever they spoke at length.

 

But now the same words echoed in the paladin’s mind as she walked about the city, making inquiries of The Dufresne Bellworks. This was a decision she had come to after her argument with Khadai, although she wondered if she was doing so because of his words. The stubborn (and likely proud) side of her wanted to deny the possibility, that the Au Ra warrior could even have such an effect on her. Perhaps this was just an attempt to close another chapter in her life. Or she was just trying to at least honor the wishes of a man she once loved. Maybe this was a way of atoning for what she did?

 

“The Bellworks Foundry? Aye, we know ‘em. Most o’ their workers be commoners,” one patron said over a mug of ale at the Forgotten Knight.

 

“She’s a workaholic, Miss Ellie. I see the light burning in her office at all hours. I don’t think she ever sleeps!” said a foundry worker returning to the Brume.

 

“Seen people wearing the Dufresne sigil taking folk out of the Brume. Mark my words, they’re all going to the mines.” Not all words were kind.

 

The rumors of the Dufresne Bellworks were bountiful, if one knew who and where to ask. Considered one of the more active foundries in Ishgard and headed by an upstart of a newly minted noble house, the impressions ranged from favorable to downright disdainful. The fact that the opinions seemed to grow more positive the less wealthier the population got, the paladin was inclined to believe the words of those who had the least to gain. So it was with some expectations that Roen walked into the busy and bustling Dufresne Bellworks Foundry.

 

"Miss Ellie?" a Hyur man said loudly over the noise of distant yelling and grinding gears. He grinned at the paladin and lifted a single gloved finger. "Generally safest to look up."

 

Roen’s gaze followed his gesture, and beyond the pipes and metal rafters of the large vaulted roof stood the Elezen noble, prowling the catwalks with one ear to a row of linkpearls. She seemed to be chattering away with one eye on the work below, the white fall of her long skirt brushing up against the railing. Even amidst the smoke and the metal, Eliane Dufresne still looked the perfect part of an elegant noblewoman.

 

The man that Roen had conversed with tapped one of his own linkpearls, murmuring into it. She watched as Eliane paused and glanced down, the Hyur next to the paladin waving up at her. Long auburn locks brushed over the Elezen’s shoulder as she leaned over the railing, but a moment later she gathered her skirts and jogged down the stairs. The paladin found herself tugging on her sleeves, straightening her tunic in anticipation.

 

"Ser Deneith!” Eliane greeted her with a bright smile and a bow. “What a pleasant surprise."

 

Roen cleared her throat as an odd wave of anxiety washed over her. "Lady Dufresne.” The paladin greeted her with a stiff polite bow of her own. “In hindsight, perhaps I should have sent a missive. I did not want to interrupt you if you were busy."

 

"Not at all, dear.” The Elezen shook her head, her relaxed smile lingering. “'Tis the most surefire way to catch me, to be sure, but I do not mind you dropping in, either. Besides, it keeps me from micromanaging." She gave the midlander a grin as he bowed and departed, then cleared her throat. "But, ah, no, I am not busy at present. What brings you here?"

 

"It concerns the matter of the Starlight task." Roen straightened, her mood growing stern. “Khadai will not be calling upon you to collect what he asked for."

 

The noblewoman gave a small pause, her brow creasing with obvious concern. "I do not understand. Has something happened? I wasn't even aware he hadn't yet collected it. I do hate leaving debts unpaid."

 

"Nothing happened. He is fine." The paladin shrugged it off. "Set in his ways, as always. But... he will not be seeking some inflated compensation. I was the one who pushed him into participation in the first place, after all."

 

"I see. Well… so long as that will not be a problem." She bowed her head slightly. "I suppose I ought to apologize as well. I'd hoped he would enjoy himself once he got out there, but I likely came on strong and pushy myself. I'd never want to force anyone into anything, regardless of the intent."

 

"You were nothing of the sort. He is just..." She pressed her lips tightly in thought. "He sees things as if through a different lens. Many times I think it focuses on certain things with painful clarity while completely ignoring the rest. A stern one, he."

 

"For what it is worth, much as he frustrated me, he did not offend. I can imagine the cultural transition has not been terribly easy." Eliane frowned, idly readjusting a silver chain on her belt. "Very well, then. We'll call the debt square, I suppose. But he's welcome to change his mind until the end of the moon, for what it's worth."

 

Roen nodded, her gaze drifting to a distant glow from a nearby forge. Her thumb and finger rubbed together in hesitation. "There is one more thing."

 

"Of course. What might that be?"

 

The paladin shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I have heard from others that your company employs commoners. What I have heard from them has been fair. It... is an admirable thing." She lightly ran her finger along the side seam of her breeches. Why was she hesitant? "I had recently been given some funds. Some minor source of wealth."

 

It was never mine. It was his.

 

“I do not need much to live on,” the paladin continued. "I was wondering if someone like you can help me see that the funds be used for something else. Something that can help others." Her last words were quiet, just barely audible over the noise of the foundry. She remembered when such words came from the heart, fueled with conviction. But now there was only trepidation, reluctance to shed the security of her indifference. I am only doing what he would have wanted.

 

Eliane blinked, but a warm smile was quick to replace her initial surprise. She canted her head to the side with curiosity. "I see. What did you have in mind? Are you seeking to donate it? Invest it? Start a business of your own?"

 

Roen’s eyes widened and she shook her head quickly. "N-Nay. Running a business or some such... is beyond my ken. Besides, my calling has always been on the battlefront, of one sort or another. But... perhaps it can be used to invest in something. To help others in taking the next step." More words that are not mine. She sighed and ran her fingers through her forelocks, tucking them away again. "I do not even know what is possible.” The paladin peered up at the Elezen imploringly. “But managing wealth is not something I am seeking to do." She gave her a helpless shrug.

 

The noblewoman gave a small chuckle to that. "I see. Well, there are two easy paths you could take, depending on whether you want a long-term result, or something more instant. If you wished to donate it directly there are certain individuals who can see to it that it will immediately purchase food and firewood for those of the Brume, perhaps even medicine, depending upon the amount. That way you could make a difference in someone's life as immediately as tomorrow. I would just be certain to avoid official routes, such as the church, because I can promise you not a single coin will reach down below."

 

"Or you could invest it in any number of people or factions,” Eliane continued. “It wouldn't necessarily require you to manage it, but you would likely have to stay in contact with whomever you invest in. In theory, it will keep multiplying should all go well, and any returns you are owed can always be put right back into the organization. Does… that make sense?"

 

Roen nodded. "Giving medicine and firewood would be one good option, but I was hoping for some way to continue to help. Do these other factions also help the commoners as your Bellworks? Employ them or give them a chance to better their lives?"

 

The Elezen gave a quiet sigh, a bit of the poise withering from her posture. "If there are, my dear, they are far quieter about it than we are, and… wisely so, given the present state of things, I would imagine. I'm sure they're out there, but they are certainly rare. We could look into it, though, if you do not mind sitting on your money for a few suns. To be honest, I wouldn't mind finding them myself."

 

Roen furrowed her brow in thought then bobbed her head again. "I can wait." She canted her head, regarding the woman carefully. Other than the fact that she seemed to be dear to Ser Heuloix, the paladin knew very little of this woman. And yet here she was, trusting this noble with the money that Nero had left her. There was something about her, but the paladin could not put her finger on it. "I have kept my head low to the ground where the political affairs of Ishgard is concerned, but… tension seems to be on the rise. I hope all is well with you and yours?"

 

Eliane was quick to sober with that inquiry. "It's… it could be better, in truth. For my part I'm simply trying to lay low because some of my recent actions have turned some friction on my family. More and more I'm finding my hands tied, and..." She shook her head. "Well, it's not forever, I'm sure."

 

"Trouble?"

 

"Politics mostly. The usual Pillars games." The noblewoman gave a bit of a rueful smile. "Which is why I've never been keen on accepting any investors myself. Would that they were all like you, then I wouldn't have to worry about anyone pulling my strings. 'Tis nothing that cannot be solved though, I think, with the right platitudes. That's sadly normal here."

 

Roen blinked. "I was certain you of all people were not in need. I am not a woman of great affluence, this... small bit of wealth found me by chance. And it is something I do not want. Or deserve." She paused, pursing her lips in thought. "If you were to ever consider accepting an investor... I would consider someone like you ideal to entrust the funds.” Those words sounded foreign to her own ears. It had been sometime since she was willing to admit such a sentiment.

 

The Elezen blinked rapidly, slowly straightening again. "Charity is not profitable, my dear, especially when I'm trying to do everything on my own. We're not hurting, mind you -- in fact, we just expanded -- but the truth is we only have so much to spare. I can only hire so many people before I cannot afford it. And then I go out, and others, noble and common alike, sneer and say, 'Why aren't you doing more, then?'"

 

Eliane sighed, smiling at the paladin. "I'd… never considered taking your investment, it's become such a habit to decline them. But, you… you, I know I could trust. If that is what you wish to do, of course. I'm quite through with pressuring people."

 

Roen straightened as well, clasping her hands in front of her. "I would owe you much gratitude if you would be so willing. It would go far to put my mind at ease regarding money I know naught else to do with."

 

"Well, I can most certainly assure you your gil will be well taken care of, and used as wisely as possible.” The Elezen exhaled, looking a bit relieved and curious. “What do you want to do with your interest, however? Are you sure you don't want any of it back? I'd like you to at least get something out of this arrangement. It's only fair."

 

He would have wanted to do something more radical. Something more defining. Her grey eyes met Eliane's and her voice and expression softened. "Someday, I want do something similar, even if it is not possible now, for people… in Ul'dah." Roen dipped her head, a wistful expression passing over her features like a fleeing shadow.

 

"You're a native Ul'dahn?” Eliane arched both brows. “I don't know that I'd ever asked. As it happens, that's where I just opened my new expansion. Any advice for a clueless Ishgardian? I've… heard some things." When Roen answered her with tense silence, the Elezen shrugged with a wince. "Well, I'll tell you what. I know you do not wish to muddle with finances too much. But at the end of each moon, I'll deposit what is owed you to a location of your choice. If you need the money, you can take it. If not, send it back and I'll add it to your existing investment, and the process can repeat itself. Is that simple enough for now?"

 

"That is very simple, and fair.” Roen nodded. “Gratitude, Lady Dufresne. And as for Ul'dah, wealth dictates all there. They will resort to any means to keep their power. It is not what is proper or deemed traditional that prevails, but who is more willing and wanting."

 

"I see.” Eliane’s eyes narrowed. “That is far more aggressive than I am used to, to be sure. But it is good to know the rumors are true. Suppose we'll all have to be on our guard down there, then. Thank you." She canted her head, and her expression lightened. "And… it is my pleasure, truly. I'm simply grateful to have a hand… and one that I know will not put a blade in my back. You have no idea how invaluable that is to me, especially now."

 

Roen found herself no longer fidgeting, no longer minding her sleeves. "Ser Heuloix seems to hold you in high regard in his eyes. Now I see for myself why." She regarded the woman earnestly. "I will make arrangements with those that are holding the funds. Hopefully, you will hear from them once everything is arranged."

 

The noble gave a quiet chuckle, now less so a businesswoman and more so almost a young girl. A faint bit of color crept into her cheeks -- though perhaps it was simply the forge light. "Honestly, I could say the same. Ser Heuloix and I have seen much together and I owe him my life and then some. Any friend of his is naturally a friend of mine.”

 

Eliane paused and regarded Roen warmly, her voice quieting. “But if you can forgive a nosy woman a bit of eavesdropping, I've overheard you while you were speaking with others at Starlight, and… you are a good woman, Ser Deneith, more than you give yourself credit for. You belong here or wherever your heart desires.” She took half a step closed to the paladin. “I hope we can continue to work together like this -- then perhaps it needn't be such an uphill battle." The noblewoman cleared her throat, as if realizing herself, and smoothed her hands over her skirts. "In that case, should I await further word from you?"

 

Roen stiffened. There was a familiar stirring within that suddenly sparked a feeling of dread. A good woman. I am… just pretending, am I not? She moistened her lips and regarded Eliane for a moment, before dipping her head. "Indeed," was all she said.

 

The lady slowly nodded, her business demeanor quick to return. "Very well then, I'll keep an eye out. And if you have any questions or concerns, by all means, do not hesitate to ask."

 

"I have taken much of your time, Lady Dufresne. Gratitude." The paladin’s voice returned to the stoic rhythm, as she gave the Elezen a bow.

 

"It was my pleasure, truly.” Eliane returned an elegant bow, her expression regaining some warmth. “Have a pleasant eve then, ser, and may the Fury watch your back."

 

Roen strode briskly out of the foundry without another word.

[Roen]

“He is absolutely adorable!” Astidien squeaked as he lofted the puppy into the air. The grey canine’s small tail wagged furiously as he was lifted, embraced, then spun in the Elezen boy’s arms.

 

Roen watched as the young boy set the pup gingerly onto the ground, laughing joyously as both he and the animal then tried to run circles around each other. A noble son he may be, but he is still a child, the paladin reminded herself, coming to a seat on a wooden chair set against an oaken desk in the library.

 

The paladin had brought the pup long to the Theron Manor for her ward’s lessons today. She was reluctant to ask Gibrillont at the Forgotten Knight to keep watch over yet another animal. The Elezen innkeeper did not seem to mind looking after the kitten--a gift from Kage--that was growing more rotund every day. A part of her wondered if leaving it at the inn was a good thing or not, for the feline seemed skilled at catching rodents and charming some patrons for their scrap of food. But when Roen received yet another animal as a gift from Kage, this one a pup with a hat and a cape to boot, she caught the innkeeper rolling his eyes to the ceiling. All she could do was give him a helpless shrug.

 

“Does he have a name?” Astidien plopped onto to the fur rug laid over the marbled floor, gasping for breaths as the puppy pounced onto his lap.

 

“I have not named him yet.” Roen shook her head. “You are welcome to choose a name for him if you like.”

 

The Elezen boy tilted his head thoughtfully at her. “Why not, Miss Deneith? He is your puppy. A Starlight gift you said.”

 

“Aye, from an old friend.” She shrugged. “A good name had not occurred to me, I suppose.”

 

Astidien regarded her a moment longer before he turned back to the pup, who was now staring at him imploringly with his front paws planted firmly against the boy’s chest. “I’ll not name you, little one. That is for Miss Deneith. Perhaps she just has not gotten to know you yet.”

 

As the boy and the pup began to play again, Roen propped one elbow against the armrest of her chair, her hand coming to cradle her chin. Her gaze drifted from the two at play to the desk that was against the far wall, where his books sat neatly piled. Nowhere in sight were the wooden sword and shield nor any other form of practice weaponry. The paladin let out a small sigh, knowing she herself had not expected to actually tutor the Elezen boy in martial arts this sun, even though that was what she was originally hired for by his adopted father, Constantin Theron. But after a few initial sessions, Roen discovered that the young boy was a gentle pacifist at heart. He did not want to disappoint his father’s wishes of some day aspiring to become a Temple Knight, but in truth he lacked any ambition to learn the art of war. His love was with diplomacy, music, alchemy. A thick tome would be his chosen armament.

 

Roen pursed her lips to one side, her eyelids half drooping as she imagined discussing another chapter in politics and philosophy, trying not to let her enthusiasm wane.

 

“She will though, eventually.” Astidien put his nose right up against the puppy’s and murmured quietly. “She’s warming up to us slowly as well.”

 

That made the paladin blink. He only gave her a sheepish sidelong glance and a smile which was answered with a stern look. A perceptive child, she observed. She had not mentioned that she also had a cat that she had not given a name to, despite more than one person inquiring after it. Naming them would be calling them her own, creatures that would then be dependent upon her. She was hardly about the inn, did not consider any place her true home now, and would maybe see the cat at the end of the sun if she returned to the Knight at all. She would be a terrible one to entrust a responsibility of another’s well-being. No, eventually finding a home for these animals would be best, and not giving them a name would spare her the attachment.

 

“I am onto you.” A voice drew both the boy and the paladin’s attention to the entrance to the sunroom, where stood a Hyur girl, one of fourteen winters. Her dark hair was braided to one side, some fringed curls coming loose around her ears. Roen could tell that the hair must have been quickly loosened from whatever fancy arrangement it had been placed in, and had been re-braided hastily, likely by the girl herself. She stood there dressed in tunic and pants, soft leather boots laced up to her knees and her hands bearing a wooden shield and sword. “You are just trying to soften her up so you can talk her out of teaching you swordplay today.”

 

“Why should I need to?” The Elezen boy smiled warmly at the girl. “You will do that for me, sister.”

 

“You are speaking as if I am not here,” Roen chided them both as she rose from her seat. Leila Theron, the only child to Lord Constantin Theron, gave her the biggest smile possible, one that the paladin knew was her best attempt at winning her over. “I thought you had a dance lesson today?”

 

Leila’s bright expression immediately dimmed, twisting into something between an indignant pout and a determined frown. “I’ve no intention of dignifying that farce with my attendance, not when I could be learning a skill of actual use instead. You are the only teacher that is willing to show me how to hold a sword, much less swing one! The dance lessons can wait for when you are not here.” When she came to stand just a few fulms away from the paladin, she set one foot back and brought the wooden shield up in front of her. “I have been practicing what you taught me from the last lesson, and I do not believe I will disappoint..”

 

Roen crossed her arms and looked at her with a skeptical arch of a brow. “And I suppose your dance teacher thinks you are unwell again?” When Leila only gave her a toothy grin in return, the paladin sighed. She wondered how teaching his daughter sword play while allowing his son to study poetry would go over with Lord Theron. She walked around the girl, then tapped her foot to slightly wider stance and adjusted the level of her shield and her sword. “For better leverage and balance.”

 

The Hyur girl beamed at the first set of instructions for the day, then immediately replaced her eagerness with focus. She demonstrated some basic swings and lunges, and Roen could tell that the girl had been practicing since she last saw her. Her hold was more steady, and she was using her body for more momentum.

 

“Good!” The paladin gave her a nod of approval and swung her arms toward the door. “You can start practicing on the target dummy outside. I shall be there in a bit.”

 

At first she flashed the briefest hint of a playful scowl--Leila had tired of the dummy rather quickly and been perhaps too eager to begin proper sparring--which almost immediately broke into a refreshed grin as she ran off to engage her foe. Roen glanced down at the sound of a small whimper, and noticed the grey pup seated by her foot, his tail wagging for some attention. His round black eyes peered up at her and one foot pawed at her boot. Roen let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping.

 

“How come you told us we could not even consider a Starlight gift for you?” Astidien clucked his tongue to bring the puppy back to his lap, rewarding him with affectionate scratches on the neck. “You said you did not want such things. And yet someone thought enough of you to send you this delightful creature.”

 

“It is from an old friend, a stubborn one at that.” Roen answered dryly, her expression remaining one of disapproval. “I need no gifts.”

 

The Elezen boy brought the pup to his chest, his arms wrapping around it. Both him and the canine both turned her head to the paladin almost comically. “No one needs gifts, Miss Deneith. They are a sign of endearment. A reminder that someone is thinking of you. It is not a bad thing.” Then his pensive gaze broke as the puppy began to lick the boy’s nose furiously and he fell back into a fit of giggles.

 

The paladin stared at the scene for a moment longer. Memories of last year’s Starlight wafted through her thoughts, as she recalled wrapping many gifts, sending each of them with warm remembrance and a small note that said that she had not forgotten them. She had no such sentiments this year, for she had spent a better half of it trying to forget everyone.

 

As a matter of fact, until she had run into Ser Heuloix and Lady Dufresne in the Forgotten Knight, she had been actively trying to avoid all things Starlight. But it was not to be. The Elezen noblewoman used her charming assertiveness to coax and hire those in the tavern, Khadai and Roen included, for the task of going out into the Brume to handout mugs of warm soup and bread. Roen had acquiesced out of politeness, while she just assumed Khadai would welcome the chance to bring relief to those in need.

 

The paladin frowned, still unhappy with how she had left things with the Au Ra warrior after their last encounter.

 

“I cannot imagine the cultural transition has been easy for him.” Eliane’s words suddenly chimed through her thoughts.

 

Roen let out a long sigh, her shoulders sinking slowly. I suppose I could make amends. That is… if he even took any offense. Who knows with him. She unceremoniously plopped her chin onto her curled hand, blowing away an errant forelock from her eyes. She was not even sure why such thoughts caused the stir of uncertainty within her in the first place. Still… what do I even say now? It was then that a small tap at her boot tip drew her gaze. The grey puppy sat at her feet again, its black eyes peering up at her. Its pink tongue slid back and forth from its mouth with each breath and the paladin could swear the little creature was smiling at her.

 

The paladin let out a small snort, then gave into (what she imagined in her mind) the relentless stare of the canine, picking it up from its perch by her feet and setting it upon the chair next to her. Its tail drummed on the wooden seat furiously, the pup seemed happy just to be remembered.

 

Her hand fell onto the pup’s grey furry brows and gave him a quick scratch, to which it happy rolled over onto its belly. Roen gave the soft belly a gentle rub and when she was rewarded with the happy series of pants, a small lift began sneaking onto the corner of her lips.

 

Hm. Perhaps I have just the thing.

[Roen]

The parchment was slid across the table, one gloved finger tapping just above the number written at the bottom of the document.

 

Roen stared at the inked amount, her lips parting without words. The rest of the tiny, numerous letters on the page was a blur but the sum noted on the bolded line arrested her gaze with disbelief.

 

“Mister Sebastian Redgrave has left you quite a bit of wealth, Miss Deneith.” Jeulerand Ganathain laced his fingers in front of him on the polished oaken table, calmly looking at the woman who seemed to be stunned speechless. “We were wondering when you would come by to claim the funds. That number is the total net worth of the possessions and intangible properties left in your name.”

 

When she blinked and looked up at him with a bewildered expression, the Wildwood continued with a pleasant smile. “It is enough to start a company. Or perhaps if you are in the same enterprise as Mister Redgrave, purchase an airship if you want to delve into the shipping business? Or rent or purchase a warehouse? Or other properties? We here at Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises can assist in such endeavors as well for we also have business relations with...”

 

The arbitrator’s words all blended into a distant murmur within the large room that was his office. The quiet ticking of the chronometer on his desk seemed louder than it should be, and it seemed to overtake the Elezen's monotonous drone, as well as the quiet babble of the nearby stream outside the window. The paladin sat in the middle of the Gridanian office, surrounded by towering bookcases filled with dusty tomes on all sides, wondering how she could hear the seconds tick by over his spoken words. All at once she realized all she was hearing was the percussion within her chest, her own heartbeat. Her eyes would not leave the contract set before her.

 

Why did you leave all this to me? Roen traced the number absently with a finger, her auburn forelocks falling before her eyes. She had finally traveled to the Shroud, to meet with the arbitrators that Nero had arranged the trust with, to settle financial affairs. She had steeled herself against any more surprises, for the initial parcel and the letter… it had nearly destroyed her with grief. But within moments of meeting with the Elezen, it was clear there were only legal documents for her to peruse over. There were no more last sentiments or items to be bequeathed, he only wanted her signature to settle legal details. For that, the paladin was silently relieved.

 

But then the final contract was offered her way, and the wealth that Nero had left behind, it was more than she had ever imagined. She had never really considered the wealth and comfort that Nero enjoyed during his life, numerous legitimate front companies along with his illegitimate ones, as well as his estate in the Mist. This money… it was supposed to be used to build the dreadnought. Her finger came to a pause on the parchment. I remember the look in your eyes, hope hidden behind pragmatism. Determination forged with sheer will and obsession. Such an impossible dream it was.

 

...Did I want to believe you because I loved you?

 

“So how would you like the funds to be allocated, Miss Deneith?”

 

The Elezen’s question drew the paladin out of her reverie, her head jerking back up. “Ah.” She cleared her throat to loosen the constriction there. “I am going to invest the funds into a company--the Bellworks Foundry in Ishgard. If you could arrange for the transfer of the money to this name and address.” Roen slid a small card across the table toward the Wildwood. Jeulerand lofted both brows with mild curiosity, as he plucked the card from the table and studied the print upon it.

 

“Ishgard,” he drawled. “I suppose with its gates opening, everyone is eager to partake in the opportunities there.” He pocketed the card into his breast pocket. “Very well. I will make the arrangements. I am assuming that this... Eliane Dufresne is aware of the incoming capital?”

 

Roen moistened her lips in thought. When she had proposed the agreement with Lady Dufresne, the paladin had no idea just how much wealth would be hers to invest. She thought it would be a nominal contribution, a moderate one at best. This was significantly more sizable than she had led on. The paladin just nodded.

 

“From our records, it seems that Mister Redgrave had a sizable number of holdings that was liquidated before this trust was established.” Jeulerand grabbed a ledger that was nearby, opening up the thick book in front of him. He retrieved a pair of glasses from his pocket and laid it daintily upon his nose as he began to study one particular page. “He had companies all over Noscea and Thanalan… and some here within the Shroud as well. Surely, if Miss wanted to reinvest in those areas, we can possibly assist you in continuing where he left off?”

 

Roen stiffened in her chair, her jaw set. Ul’dah. That is where the funds should go. To improve the lives of those he worked so hard to change. And yet…

 

“I cannot continue where he left off,” she rasped. “That is not an option for me.”

 

I am sorry. I cannot return to Ul’dah. Not… not yet.

 

The Elezen let out a long exhale, his polite smile dimming just slightly. He closed the ledger and lifted the glasses from its perch upon his nose. “Very well, Miss Deneith. I hope many more opportunities open up to you in Ishgard.” He gingerly set his spectacles back in his pocket. “At least you will no longer have to worry about your livelihood. If anything, Mister Redgrave has made sure that you have enough wealth to be moderately comfortable for the rest of your life.”

 

When she bowed her head in sullen silence, Jeulerand placed one hand on top of the other upon the table. “There has been no correspondence from Mister Redgrave, and given the nature of this trust fund… I am presuming our client’s business with us are at an end.” His voice took on a softer tone, perhaps in civility. “In which case, I will extend my condolences. May I be so bold in asking what your relation was to your benefactor?”

 

Roen’s fingers closed into a fist upon the contract, and she shook her head without meeting the Wildwood’s eyes.

 

“Ah. Forgive my meddling," he apologized with an accompanying nod as she dipped the quill and signed the contract. “I will contact your associate at the Bellworks Foundry and make the needed arrangements.”

 

I know what you would say. The feathers splayed out lifelessly over dark oak, where the paladin set the quill down on the desk. Her hand remained limp over it, unmoving. That this is not enough.

 

‘You need only advance a single step.’ A deep gravelly voice, one she did not expect to hear, rolled through her thoughts. Roen blinked.

 

The chair scraped over the wooden floor loudly in her sudden rise from the table. Roen slid the contract back toward the Elezen before turning for the door. She paused just before the threshold, glancing over the shoulder without meeting the the arbitrator’s eyes. “You will receive a deposit at the end of each moon. I wish to save it… to reinvest elsewhere in the future.”

 

“Understood, Miss Deneith.” Jeulerand Ganathain gave her a pleased nod and reached for a stack of documents elsewhere on his desk. “I am certain we can continue our business association as Mister Redgrave has trusted us with in the past--”

 

The door closed behind the paladin before the Elezen could finish.

[Roen]

"Keep your arms straight,” Khadai said.

 

The Au Ra placed his gloved hand beneath an Elezen youth’s elbow, leveraging his arm. The teen's hand was visibly shaking from the tautness of the bowstring, but his thin face held an expression of steady determination.

 

"Release." The Elezen groaned slightly as his fingers snapped away from the string, the distinct twang sending the arrow sailing away from the wall. The target at the end of the rampart remained untouched. Despite this lackluster result, the Xaela warrior nodded sagely. "That was an arm's length closer to your target. With proper practise your strength and aim will improve.”

 

A Midlander boy, barely a few years younger than the Elezen teenager, frowned. "An' when are we be usin' swords?"

 

Khadai raised an eyebrow. "Knowledge of the bow will serve you well in the long run. Try again."

 

There was a group of five boys--two Elezen and three Hyur--who all groaned aloud but nonetheless picked up a series of recurve bows. They were an unkempt bunch, quivers loosely tied to their waists.

 

"Practice drawing from the quiver and nocking. Repeat this motion." In one smooth motion, the Au Ra withdrew the mahogany bow mounted on his back and in three smooth motions, drew, nocked, and fired three arrows in quick succession into a crude wooden target mounted at the end of the rampart. He repeated the gesture several times, refraining from firing the arrows in order to demonstrate the motion of properly nocking an arrow.

 

"Swords are not necessary for hunting; a sword is a weapon designed specifically to combat other individuals, not animals or dragons. If you intend to enter the armed forces, you must learn other skills of value. Doubtless they will invest in teaching swordsmanship."

 

It was this exchange that Roen watched in silence, standing a few fulms away with her arms crossed. Her initial surprise had given way to curiosity, for the awkward aloofness no longer seemed to plague the Xaela as he continued to give instructions to what seemed to be young denizens from the Brume. She had been looking around the city for Khadai, her belt pouch weighed with an object she had obtained for him earlier. She had hoped to make amends after their last discourse, and share the news of her newest (and first) investment in a business venture. It would serve others, likely the kind of people that the Xaela was teaching now.

 

"The bow, the hatchet, the spear, and the dagger. I will teach these four, and thus you will be sufficiently equipped to learn realistic combat.” Khadai answered succinctly.

 

The boys groaned again, one muttering about swords, but despite their protests, they dutifully returned to their practice. They were a clumsy bunch, fumbling the arrows--one boy had a prominent bruise on his face where the top of the bow had recoiled into his face--but amidst their disorganized appearance they stuck their tongues out of their lips and furrowed their brows in concentration.

 

"Ser, I want to try the target again." The Elezen that had sent the arrow flying off of the battlements ceased his practice.

 

Khadai stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Show the steps."

 

The boy entered into a firing stance, the Au Ra stepping around the teen, occasionally tapping the youth's heels with his own. "Closer. You lack stability. Relax your arms, keeping the top parallel with your line of sight." He nodded once more in approval. "Ready an arrow."

 

The boy reached his right hand around to the quiver hanging against his waist, pulling an iron-tipped arrow. He placed the fletching against the bowstring, leaving the bow itself pointed down.

 

"Raise."

 

The boy raised his arms, pointedly keeping his left arm as straight as he could.

 

"Do not be rigid. The energy from the bowstring will snap back into your limbs. Firm, but not tense. Draw. Eye the target. Release."

 

With a twang the arrow let loose and pierced the flimsy wooden target with a satisfying thunk. Nowhere near the red circle that had been painted on it… but it hit.

 

Khadai nodded. "It will become easier as your strength increases."

 

Roen strode up behind them, the corner of her eyes crinkling slightly as she watched the arrow hit the edge of the target. "Lessons. I had not expected such things from you."

 

The Au Ra glanced out of the corner of his eye. "You are the last student to arrive, though your lesson is considerably different." It was odd, the way he spoke--while the Au Ra's statements mostly held true to his habit of speaking straightforwardly, the way he addressed her implied an increased understanding of the language. He had been reserved mostly to simple sentences and direct queries, but there was an unprecedented quality of… not quite eloquence, but a greater degree of sophistication in what he appeared to express.

 

Roen arched a brow. "Am I late?" There was a hint of amusement in her tone. "I was not aware. My apologies."

 

"Take note. You are to learn the steps needed to fix your disjointed society.” He said nothing more as he turned back around, returning to instructing the boys in their archery.

 

The lighter mood washed away from the paladin’s countenance. She stared at his back for a moment, before realizing that she was already frowning. She inhaled and composed her expression again, reminding herself why she had sought him out. To tell him she did heed his last counsel and to offer a Starlight gift in thanks. But the first words from him seemed to be another lecture. Her folded arms curled tighter as she watched him.

 

Khadai was quick to offer praise where he noticed improvement and equally quick to give criticism--none of it scathing or abusive, but matter-of-fact and observing. Aside from the bows and arrows, the boys also wore archery gloves of a standard design that guarded the index and middle finger from the sharp edges of the bowstring. Their clothing was still somewhat tattered but had been mended with loose patches that at least kept the biting wind away from direct contact with their skin.

 

The paladin canted her head, eyeing the equipment that could not possibly have been the youths’ to begin with. "And where did all these training supplies come from?"

 

"I provided the weapons and ammunition with my coin. The cloth used to mend their clothing I salvaged." He clapped his gloved hands together once. "That is enough for today. Do not be eager to strain your muscles. Return and rest. Maintain your practice."

 

One of the boys turned, an eager expression on his face. "You are goin' to be teachin' us swords, yeah? You carry that huge one with you all the time."

 

Khadai shook his head. "Such a skillset is impractical for now. Improve your proficiency and I will consider it."

 

The boys groaned again but were just as quick to run off, playfully hitting and teasing each other with their weapons as they went skipping down the cobbled stone streets.

 

Roen watched the boys depart the ramparts back down to the Brume, renewed energy and spirit lightening their steps. "You... bought them," she murmured and shook her head. "Why are you helping them, of all people?"

 

"Because none are willing. That includes you." Those intense green eyes seem to want to bore straight through her. "This is not my problem to fix. I am certain my own people would disapprove of my actions. It is a waste of my time and effort, better suited to one who understands these lands and their circumstances. I am but a foreigner. I cannot provide them with all they require." He exhaled, his voice a steady rumble. "But they have advanced. It is only a single step, but I do not leave them in the same place where they have been found. Add enough steps together and one travels far."

 

The paladin wrinkled her nose, her forehead creasing with a frown. He was lecturing her again, voicing his disapproval of her inaction. Why did it bother her so? She cared not for derisive comments from many others when she had first come to Ishgard, they were quick to judge and dismiss an outsider. And yet his words, not even spoken with any true disdain still caused her to prickle with unease. "So why are you doing so? Even when your own people would disapprove?"

 

Khadai glanced off to the distance. His expression and body language were the same, but one might have stretched to call it sheepish. "Perhaps it is pride."

 

She flicked a glance at the Au Ra. "Pride?"

 

He did not answer immediately. "What does it say about your people that none are willing to help your own, and yet a foreigner is required to help them advance? I was told that your people are backwards and arrogant. To be careful not to project my expectations of how a society should be for as long as the duration of my assignment persisted."

 

When Roen just stared at him, he continued. "I believed the person in question to be biased. But I see now that what they told me of the Western continent is not without merit."

 

A sharp exhale punctuated her growing scowl. "And yet here you are, trying to prove your views and advance the backward and the arrogant." She rolled her eyes. "How charitable of you."

 

Khadai’s voice dipped slightly. "As I said. Perhaps it is pride. Yet that does not change the fact that some, even one of your peoples is better off because of my pride. Not despite it.” He stood straighter, gazing down. “I said you were a student. This is your lesson. Perhaps you believe these things futile."

 

Her look upon him had turned into a glare, her arms coiling tighter. She recognized her own ire, it was the same one that made her walk away when they last spoke. She had regretted it then, had she not?

 

"There are six of them. Three wish to join the military, the 'Knights', in order to slay dragons. One wishes to explore the world. Another wishes to impress a female. The last wishes to hunt to provide for their familial unit." The Au Ra glanced back down the rampart to the poorer streets below. "At the least, they have advanced one step. They are not in the same place they were in the last sun."

 

Roen exhaled again, trying to focus her thoughts and mood back to the reason she had come to find him.

 

"Your event of charity.” The Xaela continued evenly. “That is what it should have been dedicated to. Advancing. Teach them skills. Provide them tools to learn, a structure for their role to be determined. Not to provide perfunctory amounts of food that will be but forgotten before the next moon, replaced by the return of hunger." He glanced back at her, and his voice took on a more pensive tone. “Perhaps there was some merit to providing food. I will not deny such. That gesture itself… it is not meaningless. But there should have been more. You possess an obligation to provide more to others. That woman who hired us. She possessed resources, and skills I do not know of. She should have provided more."

 

Perfunctory… The paladin ignored the weight at her belt, the pouch that hung there with the gift within. "If you want me to say that you have helped them more than that one night of bringing them something warm to drink, I will not deny it. If you want to say you are a better person than I, then I will not deny that either." Her voice was rising. "If you want me say that you hold more hopes for the people you call mine than I do, then I will certainly not deny that!"

 

This was not why she had sought him out. She did not come to him to give voice to her own bitterness. And yet, his frankness, always seemed to dig up what she thought she buried safely beneath the surface. He was the only one who challenged her so candidly about her detachment. A foreigner, of all people. She did not like it one bit.

 

"What do you want from me, Khadai?” She blurted out, her thoughts retreating. “Was our agreement not for me to guide you where needed? Nowhere in that contract was I to improve what ails this world."

 

He glanced at her. "I have not desired anything from you, nor are you currently beholden to the terms of our agreement. Your involvement has been one of your own choice. Whether you take responsibility for that, too, is your choice. I determine nothing for you." He took a breath, as if to pause their volley. “What is it that you wish? Where do you wish to advance? Is there even one thing that you believe is worth taking a step forward for?"

 

Roen stared at him long and hard. Her lips twitched at his question, and she had no ready answers for him. "I..." she began, then paused. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she leaned against the stone fortifications. "I used to know. So... so clearly. Now... I look back at those things I used to hold so dear... and wonder if it was even possible. Or maybe they were lifted so high that it was just a fantasy." Her grey eyes stared absently at the target at the end of the rampart. "An impossible of a goal."

 

"All mountains appear impossible while you stare from the base." Khadai said quietly. "They can be scaled nonetheless."

 

When the paladin fell silent, the Xaela came to stand next to her. "There were some who claimed that defeating the black ones on our own was impossible. My people's first exposure to the Western continent was to seek a solution to their excursion. An answer was found, and we have adopted the appropriate tactics. It will take time, but the area we reside in, our hunting grounds, and the neighbours we engage in trade with will be free from their influence. With time."

 

He glanced away again, off to the distance. Even on the lowest level of Ishgard, the view of the battlements was a formidable vista of the cliffs of Coerthas and the bridges that connected the levels of the city. "Eventually, I will return home. I will consult with the Aljai and the Tsenkhai as to the happenings of my korum. If the black ones are not defeated by then, I will contribute as Khadai, as I had before I left. The Erdegai seek to improve their craft. To make their weapons but a bit sharper, their tools but a bit lighter. Their furs and leathers more resilient and comfortable. The Yerenai seek to care for the sick, to raise our offspring with greater care than before, to eradicate ailments that appear. The Jungsai ever seek the thrill of the hunt. To provide more food for more people, and to do so with greater speed...and to collect greater trophies attesting to their skill. All have a goal. Something to seek."

 

She peered up at him as he looked away. He looked austere as ever, but there was a hint of longing that rose in his face when he spoke of home. "We will continue to scale the mountain here,” she brooded. “For many more years to come. Perhaps... forever.” She bowed her head again.

 

"Whether you believe it to take one sun or one thousand suns is irrelevant." His eyes turned back toward her. "What matters is that one step is taken forward, at the least. That you not remain in the same place you were before. That you do not let others remain in the same place they were before."

 

The paladin shook her head slightly, her auburn forelocks swaying in the wind. "To listen to you, it is... easy to believe." She sighed. "The idea of changing this world for the better is not foreign to me, Khadai. Do not mistake my indifference, for ignorance." Her admission was a muted thing.

 

"And..." she said as she pushed off from the stone guard. "I argue... against your pride. Not necessarily your ideals." She looked away. "One single step. Those are not impossible, I know."

 

Khadai stared at her for a time before speaking. "Your problems are not my problems to fix, regardless. Perhaps I should not have made the effort." He turned slightly, glancing at the target in the distance. "I will continue instructing the children until their skills are sufficient. After that, what they wish to do will be up to them and your society."

 

Roen too followed his gaze. One hand fell near her belt pouch, brushing up against the round contour there. “If you asked me on that first sun when we met, if you should try and help with this world's problems... I would have told you not to bother. But now..." she murmured. "I am not so sure my answer would be the same."

 

"That is not for me to decide." He said flatly, glancing back over his shoulder toward her. "Condemn my pride as you wish. Perhaps it is justified. I will decide at a later time if fixing your problems is worth devoting my effort to. It is already inefficient and...needless of me, but if I believe it to be futile, I will cease. That is all. Perhaps your indifference is the correct choice of action."

 

Roen narrowed her eyes at him. "My problem? Not my people's problem." She canted her head, surprise clear in her voice. "Why are you trying to help me?"

 

The Au Ra glanced away, off towards the edge of the rampart. "I am not currently engaged in any other activity."

 

The paladin stared at him dubiously, at a lost for words. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms again, her belt pouch all but forgotten. "Well, I do not need fixing. And if I wanted to change how things were... it certainly would not be because of your pride." She looked away again, knowing that her words were not entirely true. It was her own pride talking.

 

"As you say."

 

As silence fell between them, Roen glowered. Once again, all her words came out wrong. Things were not so stiff between them when they had talked while trapped by a storm. But since Starlight, she had been on the edge. She let out a sigh, at least wanting to clear up one misconception. "The Elezen woman, Lady Dufresne. You are wrong about her. She uses her business to hire commoners in the Brume. From what I understand, she tries to hire those that are willing to work and need the work to feed themselves. An unpopular decision amongst the society she needs to socialize with but..." She shrugged. “It is her way."

 

“As you say,” Khadai reiterated, this time more quietly. “Perhaps not all of you are hopeless, then." He straightened. "Regardless, I hope you have learned something from this. I will attend to my hunts."

 

Roen watched him stride the length of the rampart toward the main city gates. She exhaled sharply and kicked an errant pebble off the edge of the parapet as she walked away in the opposite direction.

[Roen]

[[This post is following the events of this post.]]

 

 

 

The sun was almost too bright.

 

Roen raised her hand to shade her eyes from glittering expanse of blue in front of her. Both the ocean and the sand seemed to be soaking in the summer warmth as they all glistened under the midday sun. It was such a contrast from the grey snow-covered fields and mountains of Coerthas, that it almost felt like a dream.

 

A silhouette of a lone figure entered her view, sprinting directly for the embrace of the sea. A lean Midlander clad only a loose pair of shorts, leaped into the air as he tucked his knees up to his chest and hit the water with a bold splash. His entire form disappeared beneath a large foamy wave and did not reemerge for a few moments. Roen blinked as she sat up straight, her eyes squinting at the water.

 

Then Osric broke through the surface with a loud yelp. “L-L-Llymlaen’s piss, it’s cold!”

 

The paladin exhaled with a relaxed curl to her lips. She leaned back, her fingers burrowing beneath the blanket of soft sand, as she glanced to the rest gathered on the beach. It was all familiar faces that roamed about, with the ocean breeze lightly carrying their conversations like a distant babble.

 

Delial was by the bonfire, roasting some pieces of skewered meat. This gathering was her and Kage’s idea after all, so the Highlander came prepared to feed the guests. Delial seemed relaxed despite the absence of her co-conspirator; her hair was let down loosely with a flower pinned next to her ear. She hummed quietly as she turned the meat this way and that. The wafting scent of roasting aldegoat had already produced a small rumble in Roen’s stomach, so it was no surprise that the two Miqo’tes of the group were already hovering near the Highlander.

 

Kiht was leaning in and sniffing, her expression one of clear anticipation. The Keeper’s love of meat was no secret, something that she had shared with Roen during one of their first meetings. She was chatting casually with Delial and U’Roh, Gharen’s long time friend. The paladin noted that her Keeper friend was preferring to linger under the shade afforded by the tall palm trees, but even the no-nonsense hunter had dressed for the occasion, with a light camise and a coeurl hide wrapped around her hips. This was as carefree as Roen had ever seen Kiht.

 

Roen shifted slightly to adjust the lei that rested over her chest. Even as casually dressed as Kiht was, the Keeper still commented that she had expected the paladin to come more clothed. Roen tugged on the red scarf that was tied around her waist, tightening its knot as she recalled the heat that rose to her cheeks.

 

"It's a bit late for modesty now, Roen. There's no shame in showing off a bit, you know." A sudden memory flitted before her eyes, with that familiar teasing tone and his icy-blue gaze hidden beneath long orange forelocks. "Besides, I'd wager more than half of Ul'dah's noblewomen would kill to have shapely legs like yours."

 

Nero’s comment had made her blush slightly, and she reflexively crossed her arms over her chest. “Must you do that,” she remembered muttering at him, diverting her eyes from the pirate’s bare chest as he lounged on the beach. She had convinced herself she had grown used to him trying to throw her off guard.

 

"Can't help myself. Besides, you must have picked something like that in order to catch my attention, no?" He flashed a wink at her from the corner of his eye. "To which I say, mission accomplished."

 

Roen squinted at the bright glare from the ocean as the beam of sunlight hit it just right, and the memory of her last time on the beach faded from her view. The melancholy it brought brushed over her like a piece of silk floating upon the wind, leaving just a touch of wistfulness before it disappeared. No longer did such memories take hold of her thoughts like a vice.

 

She returned to watching the three by the fire for a moment longer, before her attention roamed to her brother who was shuffling around the sand with a cane in hand. This beach picnic was to celebrate his return after all, after such a long absence. The past year had been difficult for him as many others, this Roen could not deny, and a beach party was a much needed respite.

 

The paladin began to play absently with one of the flowers that rested just below her collarbone to chase away her sense of unease. She had not known what to say to Gharen when she saw him in Coerthas after he had regained his memory. He had been badly injured, that much had been made certain, and was convalescing under Delial’s care. Not knowing how to start the conversation then, Roen had set about assessing his physical state and doling out orders on what he should not be doing that would further delay his recovery.

 

Gharen seemed surprised in her business like attitude, but did not prod her much. Just how was she to tell him then and there, all that had happened since she saw him over a year ago? And the fact that he did not yet even realize what he had done during that time…

 

Roen was pulled from her reverie when Osric came trotting up, curling his arm around Kanaria who had also quietly taken up a spot near the paladin. Kanaria did not seem to mind her husband’s wet arms wrapping around her very pregnant belly. The former sergeant propped his chin upon his wife’s shoulder, and gave her a soft buss on the cheek. The two seemed happy, Roen observed, and Osric seemed just a little softer around the edges whenever he was in Kanaria’s presence.

 

"How're you holdin' up?" he asked as he turned his attention to the paladin. His tone was casual, but when their eyes briefly met, Roen recognized the sincerity of his question.

 

"I am... better than I was,” she answered honestly, before giving the Midlander a look over. "As you are, I imagine?"

 

He answered her with his usual grin. "We're doin' fine, I think. The latest insanity ain't nearly as insane."

 

"Do I want to know?" Roen arched a brow.

 

"No." The Lominsan’s answer was short and succinct.

 

They both nodded at each other in understanding. "I hope you found a way to eliminate much of the insanities from your life, what with a child on the way." The paladin’s voice softened as she only briefly glanced at Kanaria’s midsection. "I honestly cannot imagine you a father."

 

Osric looked somewhat stricken. "Oh?"

 

Roen paused. She was about to comment on his penchant for violence, his recklessness, and his usually brash outlook. But in each of those instances where she had pictured, him, he was always helping someone else too. "Actually, I can." She shook her head. "You were a protective figure to many, from what I remember."

 

That seemed to please the sergeant as he exchanged a look with his wife. Looking beyond the two, Roen spotted her brother limping in their direction. She had yet to even greet him since arriving at the beach for he was inundated with well wishes from everyone else. And yet when he finally came within ear’s reach, Roen barked out a cool order. "Gharen, you should sit."

 

Gharen grinned as he leaned against a large outcropping of rocks. "Soon enough. I have been bed ridden long enough te want te get about regardless, if'n it means as a man long in years may."

 

Osric craned his head toward the Highlander. "I have two sisters. When they tell you t'sit, you sit."

 

“Technically, I am.” Gharen gave the sergeant a crook of the brow as he shifted his weight to indicate the rock he was leaning against.

 

"At least your stubbornness is a sign of your recovery,” Roen chided him, but her tone did not hold any true reproach. But she also recognized that it did not hold much warmth. She was already feeling tense around her brother.

 

It was then that the sound of feet awkwardly shuffling through sand reached her ears and Roen gladly stood and turned around. She knew it to be Khadai, for their entire walk through the beach upon arriving at Costa Del Sol, his unfamiliarity in coping with such a landscape was made plainly obvious. He had a veritable small whirlwind wherever he walked, his slippered feet kicking up sand with every step. He had left the group for a bit after the initial introductions, having misplaced some of the tools he had brought. It was the only way Roen could conceive of suggesting that he come to such a gathering as this, as an opportunity to study the pattern of aether further south of Coerthas. He had come to the beach wearing a light tunic and shorts, but the heavy tool belt that hung around his waist still marked him out of place.

 

When she noticed that he had not returned for many minutes, she was starting to worry that he had gotten lost. Again. So her mood had already beginning to lighten when she turned, relieved that no man hunt was needed.

 

But when she gazed up at the Au Ra again, only one thing captured her attention.

 

“What… is that.” Osric was first to give voice to what everyone was staring at.

 

Roen, as well as the rest of those gathered, were staring at the roasted dodo that was crowning Khadai’s head. It was an elaborate hat of some sort, with decorative foliage, vegetables, and even a couple of tail feathers, all placed carefully at the base of a hat that featured a glistening, browned, roasted bird.

 

Khadai seemed nonchalant about it as he climbed onto a rock and sat with crossed legs. “It is a prize won in a physical competition. I am told that it is indicative of one’s mastery.”

 

Osric somehow maintained his deadpan tone. “Er… well, that’s technically correct…”

 

“You have a cooked bird. On your head.” Roen was still staring.

 

"I had lost my way.,” Khadai explained. “I was forced to question the natives as to my location and destination. They did not respond to threats and required that I take part in a competitive display. I successfully defeated the enemy in stone-throwing, oyster diving, running, balancing atop a stake of wood, and the accurate destruction of of seed-bearing fruit."

 

Roen just crossed her arms, her eyes slowly narrowing.

 

Khadai gestured to his hat. "This adornment is proof of that… I believe. There remained no surviving competitors."

 

Roen glanced at everyone else first, to gauge their reaction, before she stared back dumbfounded at the Au Ra. "You got lost... and then did all that?"

 

“It was required in order to ascertain my location." While Khadai was looking at her, his eyes did not quite meet her gaze.

 

"Roen, where'd you two meet again?" Osric asked that in a tone of voice that rather implied that she'd picked up a stray.

 

The paladin found herself leaning in slightly toward the Xaela, as if to try and will the right answer out of him. "And what do you mean by no surviving competitors... you left them healthy and breathing after a friendly competition, right?"

 

"Yes,” the Au Ra warrior answered easily. “I was successful in breaking their competitive spirit and ensuring no further conflict of this nature. Peace is hard-earned." He punctuated his statement with a sage nod.

 

Roen could see from the corner of her eyes as Osric released his wife and turned away. His shoulders began to shake first, before he broke into laughter.

 

"You bring honor to your name,” Kiht called out, biting back a smirk. “Well done."

 

Roen let out a long sigh. Everyone else was finding humor in it, so she tried to convince herself that she should as well. "Well… at least you found your way back. With sustenance no less."

 

"It is ornamental. I do not believe it is edible. And it would not be of good conduct to falsely display my prowess." There was not one onze of humor in Khadai’s observations.

 

That made Roen make another befuddled face. "That is not edible?” She stepped toward him and raised herself onto the tips of her toes to study this fashion atrocity. “Why would someone make such a thing?"

 

Khadai frowned. "It is to display one's physical mastery of various competitions. Were you not paying attention?"

 

Anything else that Roen might have retorted was bitten off when Kiht also stepped toward the Xaela. She too leaned this way and that to study the bird on the hat. "Clearly, Roen, it is a symbol of victory and power. Like a hunter returning with game, or a chef who has cooked a fine meal." The amusement in her voice was just barely hidden.

 

Khadai seemed oblivious to it, as he held up his aether compass in the air. His expression turned quizzical and Roen could see the needle still spinning rather unhelpfully. He frowned at it as if it was mocking him. "She is correct. On that subject, I had retrieved these implements for a reason, in any case. Perhaps the fish will be intimidated by my mastery." He nodded confidently to himself. "Approach me should you require me."

 

As the Au Ra walked away to a distant group of rocks closer to the water, Roen gave Kiht a pointed look. The Keeper only allowed her expression to break into an open smirk when Khadai was out of range. "Gods, where did you find him? Not that I do not like him, but I did not expect to see you make an Au Ra friend in Coerthas."

 

The paladin pondered on how to answer that for a moment before she gave a hapless shrug. "How we crossed paths is a long story. He has much to learn about this place. But… he is a good man when all is said and done. If not a bit odd and severe."

 

Kiht followed her gaze down to the coast. "Remember when we were like that? Hells, I thought I was odd until seeing him. Now I feel so... well-adjusted."

 

Roen dipped her head as a chuckle escaped. "He does remind me of you. Khadai. A little."

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” U’roh piped up as he trotted up beside them. In his hands were two skewers of roasted aldegoat meat. “Delivery!” He held out one to each of them.

 

Kiht readily snatched up the offering. "Gratitude! I am now in love with you, bearer of food." The wide grin upon her face was one that Roen was not used to seeing. She was actually teasing him!

 

Neither was U'roh, as his eyes widened, slight color rising to his cheeks. "Y-you’re quite welcome!" He beamed. "Enjoy!" The Miqo’te skittered off, and it was after he was yalms away that Roen turned back to Kiht. Her Keeper friend was already eagerly tearing into her meat.

 

“Now look at you,” Roen gave her a sly grin. “Well-adjusted indeed.”

 

"I will not deny it. I knew naught outside of the Shroud. But Othard is not even in Eorzea. Khadai has even more to adapt to. But…” The huntress paused in her devouring of the aldegoat, her dark eyes regarding the paladin warmly. “You were kind to me as well. Even after I called you a Hyur female like an idiot…”

 

Roen chuckled as she took a bite of her own skewer. “You never sounded like an idiot. Just… new. And honest.” She turned the meat in her hand, allowing some juices to drip down to the sand below. “I think back to those times, now and then. When things were so much simpler.”

 

Kiht took another bite of her morsel and closed her eyes as if to savor its taste. “Mmm.” She peeked one eye open. “And look at you now. Eating meat. I am so proud.” She grinned again. “I claim credit.”

 

"Quite insistent you were about consumption of meat! I cannot say the wisdom was for naught." The paladin sighed as she picked at the last chunk of aldegoat. "I miss the simpler times. I am hoping to return to such suns." She watched from the corner of her eyes as Kanaria joined U’roh and Delial by the fire; Gharen and Osric had strolled off by themselves closer toward the water to hold a private conversation.

 

"Nostalgia hitting you hard then?” Kiht gave Roen a side eye. “Well, I am not going anywhere. If you wish, I can act ignorant of everything again."

 

Roen nearly choked on her meat as she snorted. "Nay! I like you just as you are.” The chuckle that rose was quick to fade, as she kept her gaze on the two men by the sea. “But reconnecting with Gharen and helping Khadai seek out what he needs to find... these should be simple things."

 

"They should be. They can be. I had to work with Gharen when he was The Wolf, now I talk to him, and he is a honey-head by comparison. As for Khadai, treat him like you did me... without the getting captured twice part."

 

To that, the Keeper was rewarded with a withering look.

 

"Apologies.” Kiht blinked. “I am still sharp with my words right now. That was mayhaps a bit too sharp. I jest..."

 

Roen could not hold the look for long, the corner of her lips lifted soon enough. "I shall try my best. I know I worried you so, then." She turned her attention back toward the waves foaming upon the sand. "Is it odd? I have butterflies in my stomach when I anticipate talking to my own brother now. But when speaking to you, or Delial... or Khadai, I have no such hesitation." She glanced to the distant figure of the Au Ra with his fishing pole. "As severe as he is, he makes a unique confidant. Another thing he has in common with you, in truth."

 

"Odd to me, mayhaps.” Kiht looked puzzled. “Family is important to keepers, and naught to be afraid of. But... you did not always know Gharen was family, and before you went to Coerthas, you both were at odds." She gave Roen a long look. "I assure you he wants to talk to you though."

 

"That I do not question.” The paladin shifted uneasily. “But his words, and his tone… he recalls nothing. And perhaps that is why it does not weigh on him even in the slightest." Her expression fell slightly as did her gaze. “But I cannot shed those memories as easily as he has. Perhaps I worry that I do not want to return to him those burdens, but I cannot pretend nothing has happened nor that it no longer matters."

 

Kiht canted her head slightly and there was a look of empathy upon her face. "Talk about one thing at a time. What weighs on you the most? Mayhaps start there."

 

Roen stared at her, before she quickly shook her head. "I cannot talk about that."

 

The Keeper stared at her back with slumped shoulders. She did not bother hiding her disappointment. "Very well, mayhaps start with something light. If it would help, I can stand with you."

 

"You cannot expect me to just bring up the fact that I killed the man that had caused a rift between us?" Roen hissed quietly. "Or that I grieve him still? Or do I mention that while he was not himself, he killed... I do not know how many? I have no idea how would even start such a conversation." The paladin parted her lips as if to continue, then pressed them shut when she saw Gharen and Osric approach the group again. Khadai had also returned, with a hand full of fish on hand.

 

Kiht too gave them all a glance, her voice now barely above a whisper. Her expression had turned somber. "You have a fair point. I just... believe in openness. The sooner you rid yourself of old burdens, the sooner things can become more simple. But start light this sun. I hear his memories might return, and if they do, the conversation will happen. You both have guilt you have to resolve, and I do not want to see you run off again, or he become a monster again."

 

"It has been a difficult year," Delial’s words to Osric floated upon the wind and it made Roen pause. "Anyone would age, given that." The Highlander had not made a single effort to join the paladin, but Roen could guess that the she was keeping an eye on everyone.

 

Osric raised his skewer in salute. "Grimsong, I owe you an apology for ever doubtin' your womanly charms. This is delicious."

 

When Roen was reassured that the others paid her and Kiht no mind, she continued. "Do not worry for such a thing. I am done running. I will not disappear again without word."

 

Kiht’s ears lowered. "I will take your word for it then. But just speak with him on a light matter then." The Keeper glanced from the paladin to the group now gathered near the fire.

 

"I shall.” Roen nodded. “I promise."

 

"Gratitude.” The Keeper’s gaze was soft, but there was now a teasing curl to her expression. “I will accept your moving an ilm as a victory."

 

Roen narrowed her eyes in turn, but also with a twinkle of mirth to her gaze. "An ilm." She held up two fingers, a space of just such between them.

 

Kiht smirked confidently. "All harrowing journeys start with an ilm."

 

The paladin snorted, a smile rising to her lips. "Wise words. And since I know you do keep tabs on my whereabouts from time to time, I may be in Dravania in the near future. Not alone. I will be helping Khadai in his quest." She glanced at the Au Ra, now seated by the rocks again, quietly conversing with Osric.

 

Kiht brightened. "Stop by Tailfeather. Nice place. Depending on when you go, I may be closer than you think." She leaned toward the paladin with a mischievous look. "I promise it is not to watch you this time. I have not done that since you left for Coerthas."

 

“You gave me the time I needed,” Roen nodded in thanks. “And I shall return the favor by keeping in touch this time. Who knows? Perhaps we will run into each other in Dravania if your own path takes you there." She paused then shook her meatless skewer at the Keeper. "And remember your promise. If you need aid that you would send word. We have yet to fight side by side."

 

"Gratitude, Roen." Kiht’s expression warmed. "I have not forgotten. I may find trouble just to fulfill that promise."

 

Roen grinned back. "I will be looking forward to it."

 

"I think we are being watched," Kiht half turned, eyeing Osric and Khadai.

 

"More like waited on!" Osric hollered back and slid off his perch on the rock next to the Au Ra.

 

Roen dipped her head as Kanaria and Osric approached Kiht, and the paladin made her way back to the Xaela. She leaned onto the rock that he was seated on. “I heard you have a new supply of fish.”

 

Khadai glanced down at her, the ocean winds tossing his long locks over his eyes. "We will be remaining here for another sun or longer in order to allow the fish to dry. They will make substantially useful provisions." He seemed to be regarding her carefully. "Has this… been helpful for you?"

 

Not having expected such a direct question, Roen chewed on that for a moment. While she had spoken to him about her brother’s illness, she had not exactly discussed her anxiety in reconnecting with Gharen since his return. It surprised her that he had been astute enough to inquire about her in such a way. She glanced over her shoulder toward the beach where Delial and Gharen had taken a spot on the sands to watch the waves. “It has… in some ways.” She inhaled deep of the salty air, and pushed herself off the rock and looked up at the Au Ra.

 

She smiled at him. “Walk with me.”

[Roen]

Roen had led Khadai on a long meandering path away from the rest of the party. The conversation along the walk was about little things, the climate, some mundane facts about the region they were in… mostly small talk. It felt strange to just stroll along the coast, surrounded by vibrantly colored flowers, clear blue skies, and a warm sea breeze that washed over them now and then. Had she ever indulged in such a moment of leisure in the past year? Khadai seemed occupied with observing his surroundings, taking in the details of the new environment. He remained quiet as he listened, his usual long legged stride having slowed to an ambling gait to match hers. Roen finally paused when they reached the top of the bluff, taking a moment to look to the vast horizon. She did stay a good distance from the edge, as to not be able to look directly down. Another sweep of the summery winds tossed her forelocks from her eyes and rustled the ring of flowers that hung from her neck.

 

"So this warm weather... do you like it?" she asked as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

 

"It has taken some time to adjust to it. The only thing close to such heat was whenever we ventured south into the lowlands." The Au Ra took a seat on a patch of grass and raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. It had past its zenith in the sky, and was headed westward. "This is a new environment. I have seen nothing like it yet. Although I do not particularly like moving on sand."

 

"I see you have taken on the habit of kicking it every chance you get," she teased as she took a cautious step forward and took a seat next to him. Thankfully he had sat many fulms away from the edge of the cliff.

 

"It is difficult to move in." He sounded consternated. "I pray I do not have to engage in combat in such circumstances. The lack of mobility would be problematic for tactical and strategic maneuvers."

 

Roen shook her head slightly. He was always assessing the situation with practicality in mind, especially when it came to combat scenarios. "I do not think many see this place as a battleground. Most come here for leisure and relaxation."

 

"There are many animals here,” Khadai observed. “The Jungsai would be hard pressed to outdo one another with such abundance."

 

The paladin was starting to commit some of his tribal terms to memory. "The Jungsai... are the hunters?"

 

He grunted. "Not hunters. They are animal caretakers. Sometimes their duties include hunting. The loudest ones will insist that hunting is all that good Jungsai do. But there are also shepherds, and… healers? Healers for animals. They interact with animals most of all."

 

Roen nodded slowly, her eyes roaming to the buffaloes grazing in the distance. "I overheard what you said to the sergeant earlier. That I brought you here under the guise of 'work'." She glanced up at him. "Would you have come if I had not included some work to be done?"

 

He did not answer immediately. "This place is… far from our objective. Had you not managed to impress upon me the practicality of this journey, I likely would not have come unless I had no other directives to adhere to at the moment."

 

"I think they were all surprised that I came as well." She reflected quietly as she looked out to the horizon. "I thought it would do him some good, my brother, for me to be near. And I thought to thank Kiht and Delial for all that they had done. But the thought of just coming here to relax... it felt strange to me as well. Forgive me. I did bring you for company more than anything else."

 

Khadai glanced at her. "Company?"

 

Roen pressed her lips thinly, casting a hesitant glance his way. "Aye. To get some work done if all else failed." She frowned. Not only did that come out awkwardly, but it was not even the truth.

 

"You believed that you would not be capable of accomplishing what you did without my presence?"

 

She wrinkled her nose. "It was such a mundane thing, I know. But I had not seen them, not like this, for as long as I can remember. Have you ever felt nervous about going into a situation all by yourself?"

 

"Hm,” the Au Ra pondered. “Nervous… no. Anxiety is a trait that is not present in any individual selected to be Khadai. But there are moments where I have been expected to act on incomplete information."

 

Roen rolled her eyes. "I know that I was not in any mortal danger. But I did not think I could just show up and enjoy myself." Somehow she sensed that Khadai was not empathizing with her particular predicament, and to try and explain it would be a futile effort. "So you never actually felt anxious? How about afraid?"

 

"Fear is a natural catalyst,” he answered matter-of-factly. “It is common to feel fear during battle. Fear heightens one's reflexes and attentiveness. Yes, I have experienced fear. But… what you call anxiety, no."

 

She stared at him for a long moment, trying to wrap her mind around it. "I see."

 

Khadai seemed to sense her struggle as well. "To… hm. Fret, worry, doubt, is frowned upon. Those selected to be Khadai do not feel these things in any great measure, or they learn to quell such misgivings quickly."

 

"Then I envy you,” she sighed. “Doubt and worry often plague much of my thoughts."

 

"The price you pay for such a fluid society, one would imagine."

 

Roen let out a soft snort as she looked back out to the sea. "That would explain many things. Perhaps that is why I seek your counsel. It is not fraught with misgivings."

 

He turned to look at her. "Speak, then, and I will offer what I can."

 

Roen chewed her lip in reluctance. "Kiht asked me what I am now. What I do now." She released a long exhale, trying to expel that familiar sinking feeling in her chest. "Such a question I used to be able to answer so easily before. I could say, 'I am a Sultansworn, sworn to protect the Sultana.' Or 'a free paladin, sworn to protect those who need my assistance.'" She frowned. "I did not know how to answer her today. At least... not right away."

 

She drew her legs to herself, wrapping her arms around her bare knees. "I knew my purpose. Who I was. Or who I thought I was supposed to be. Then... I lost it." She had confessed something similar to Khadai many moons ago, in a basement lit with torches while a snowstorm raged on outside. Only now, her words were not fraught with emotion and she felt more at ease sharing her thoughts. "I suppose... I am trying to determine who I am now. How do you do that, if you believe you are no longer who you thought you were?"

 

"A complicated question." The Au Ra’s face twisted into a wry grin. "Would that a Tsenkhai were present to answer it for you. You defined yourself by your purpose. 'Sworn to protect the Sultana'. 'Sworn to protect those who need your assistance.' Your goal was to protect. Is that no longer the case?"

 

Roen blinked. "It is all I know how to do. And yet… I suppose I have lost my confidence in my instincts.”

 

"You believe that you no longer have the capability to protect those you wish to. Thus you believe that it is inappropriate for yourself to identify yourself by that cause."

 

She merely gave him a sidelong glance, not quite turning to look at him fully. "Perhaps."

 

Khadai still continued to look out to the horizon, his eyes squinting as if to focus on something too far to see. His hand was casually propped upon his bent knee, and his tone was thoughtful. "Aptitude alone does not define one's purpose. Inclination and motivation is important as well. A warrior who is skilled but unmotivated is less preferable to a warrior who is untrained but desires to improve."

 

Roen dipped her head, glancing down as she started to absently straighten the tie of her pareo that fell over her lap. "I thought the want was enough. If one tried their best, then no matter what, they can tell themselves at the end that they did all they could do." Her idle fingering of the fabric stopped. "But simply being good with a sword and shield was not enough. Simply being willing to do all that was necessary was not enough. I have seen others, who have been 'protecting' people far longer than I have. I see some of them hardened. Is that what I was lacking?"

 

"You are overthinking.” He glanced her way. “Does your desire to protect others remain, or does it not?"

 

Her face twisted into a frown. "It remains. But is often struggling against the fear that I will fail them. And it would leave them worse than before."

 

"You have failed before, else you would not have these doubts. I repeat the question. Does your desire to protect others remain?"

 

Roen stiffened, her jaw set. She just nodded.

 

"Then why is it that you can no longer identify yourself by the same label?” His questioning was insistent, but his tone remained unobtrusive. “As one who wishes to protect?"

 

"Because after failing so spectacularly, how could I be so brazen enough to take up such a task again? Has your tribe never deemed someone unfit for their job after they have been assigned?"

 

He pursed his lips. "Mobility is rare, but not unheard of. There are occasions where, for example, Khadai are crippled and can no longer serve in that capacity. Or, there are cases where an individual lacks the interest and motivation, and thus become inefficient. The role no longer fits them."

 

"Then what happens? How do you assign them a new role?"

 

He paused, tilting his head somewhat. "The Tsenkhai are called to investigate the individual. Their peers are consulted. The individual themselves are tested to find both their aptitudes and inclination. And then they are presented with a choice." He stared out back into the ocean, his expression distant. "The process is… extensive. Individuals are a precious resource and must be used efficiently. If an individual cannot find their aptitude or their inclination, then the process repeats with additional variables."

 

"So then your... Tsenkhai are the ones that determine what other options lay before them."

 

"When an individual is at a loss of purpose, they cannot be relied upon to resolve such a dispute by themselves. Externalities are required in order to spur them onward. The Tsenkhai fill that purpose, yes." He turned his gaze back to her. “There are times where the Tsenkhai have been approached by individuals desiring a reassignment, and are turned away. You would be one of those, I imagine."

 

When Roen shot him a questioning look, he was still regarding her intently. “'Recall when we sparred at the Falcon's Nest. We fought one another. Do you believe the effort you put forth into that fight then was the effort of one who no longer had the capacity to protect?"

 

"I am still capable with sword and shield. That is not where I doubt my abilities!"

 

"You do not doubt your capacity to protect others, yet you doubt whether or not you are capable enough to label yourself as one who protects others?" His expression could be called one of bemusement, though the overall severity that seemed permanently affixed to his face remained. Still, a corner of his lip curled upwards.

 

"Why is it that it seems so simple and straightforward when it comes out of your mouth?" she mumbled under her breath.

 

"You do not believe that it is appropriate for you to label yourself a protector. Then do not. Simply acknowledge that I am labelling you as a protector, then. You do not have to believe it. You need only believe that I believe it." He gave a small shrug, as if to say 'it is as simple as that'.

 

Roen stared at him, her eyes narrowing. Her lips parted as if to formulate some retort, but instead she pressed them into a tight line and stared straight ahead. "I hope I do not prove you wrong then," she finally murmured.

 

"The day you prove me wrong is the day that you have obtained a new label that is not 'protector', and should that happen, whether I was right or wrong will no longer matter."

 

Roen blinked, her expression sobering slightly. She continued to stare out into the ocean, as the sun was almost reaching the end of its westward journey. The sea was starting to glitter red-gold, to reflect the turn of the sky above. The paladin narrowed her eyes when she spotted a trail of clouds that seemed to be following the sun’s path, and the palm trees swayed above with more vigor than before.

 

For all the sun and the warmth, Costa Del Sol had its fair share of tropical showers, this Roen knew.

 

The paladin rose to her feet, straightening the silk fabric around her waist. "Perhaps we should go look to your fish to make certain they are drying properly and sheltered from the weather. This place is known for its unpredictable rainfalls."

 

Khadai squinted as he too studied the sky above. "It is quite difficult to botch curing. They have been affixed to the rack. They will survive." Even though his tone was confident, he rose after her, checking his belt to take account of all of his tools.

 

Roen regarded the Au Ra thoughtfully. "Maybe while we travel to Dravania... you can provide some instruction on how you do some of the things you do. Curing fish, for example. Or archery, as you taught those children on how to use a bow."

 

"What do you wish to learn? Though you should be aware that I am barely considered a novice. A few moons of instruction by other castes was enough to prepare me for this journey, so they felt."

 

The paladin crossed her arms with a skeptical arch of the brow. “I have watched you long enough to know that you are proficient in many things. You seemed more well-rounded in your knowledge than you lead others to believe”

 

Khadai glanced at her. "I am an exception. I was trained to be entirely self-sufficient, should it have been required. Necessity is capable of training one in many things."

 

"Hmph." She pursed her lips. "Then perhaps your Tsenkhai should have given you a different name than just Khadai." There was a hint of jest in her voice.

 

"My aptitude in the other fields does not even begin to approach what is required. Khadai fits fine," he returned, the corner of his lip curling slightly.

 

"You even admitted that you are an exception, as I recognize you to be. And yet you are content to label yourself along with others.” She shrugged. “As you say.” It was growing later than she had imagined, and she wondered if the group below had missed them in their absence.

 

“We should return,” she murmured as her gaze followed the coastline to the long piers and the huts of Costa Del Sol. “But perhaps with some refreshments from the vendors nearby.” She had not tried all of the colorful drinks and the desserts that Costa Del Sol had to offer, and strangely she was feeling adventurous. A part of her was even more curious on how Khadai would receive such things. There was a smile of anticipation that lifted her lips as she began to make her way down the bluff.

 

“We can investigate such things,” the Au Ra answered intently as he followed behind. His tone was already hinting that he was starting to critically evaluate those plans.

[Roen]

It was as if the clouds were waiting with bated breath for the sun to make its exit. As soon as the last vestige of the warm orange glow sank into the depths of the ocean, the lanky palm trees began to bend to the increasing strength of the winds, its leaves rustling loudly in protest. The darkness came quickly, and rain followed soon after. Khadai went to attend to the fish that were affixed to the rack, just before the storm began in earnest. The rest of the group had left before nightfall, but Roen remained seated by the fire that still flickered, sheltered from the weather by the trees and the crag that arched above.

 

"Figure's such a lovely place would get marred by horrendous weather."

 

Roen recognized Gharen’s voice without turning. She had heard his approach, limping gait shuffling over sand along with the light tapping of a cane that searched for solid footing. “No place is safe from the storm, I have learned.” She regarded him briefly. “You should sit.”

 

"Mayhaps, but tis jus' wind an' rain." He shrugged, but acquieced none the less, lowering himself slowly to the ground with some difficulty. "Miss Jakkya suggested we be locked in a room. I'm inclined te agree."

 

Roen snorted softly. "Kiht can be impatient at times. I think a part of her fears that I will disappear again."

 

"Ye cannae have disappeared fer too terribly long, ye helped them find me,” Gharen reflected quietly.

 

Goosebumps rose along her arms and it was not from the cold. Roen stared straight ahead into the darkness and said nothing as the howling winds suddenly filled the silence between them. "Has no memory of the time that has passed returned to you?" she finally broke the quiet again, her voice raspy.

 

"No, th' last I remember t'was th' bridge in th' shroud.” Gharen shook his head, his untrimmed hair falling heavily in front of his eyes. “Pretty sure'n tha' I was attacked. Tis... fuzzy at best."

 

Roen only afforded him a sidelong glance, taking care to keep her tone and expression neutral. "Has Delial still told you nothing?"

 

He looked back at her curiously. "Only tha' Nero has been put te grass, an' ye've had somethin' o' a hard time o' it."

 

The paladin flexed her jaw and averted her gaze at the name, looking back out to the ocean. She was not yet ready to have that conversation yet.

 

"Though I have th' distinct feelin' they're nae tellin me everythin',” Gharen continued to muse quietly. “Which is gettin tirin' in it's own way... bein' treated as if I may break upon th' slightest provocation."

 

"You cannot blame them." Roen shrugged. When she turned to look at him, her voice had taken a cooler turn. "Who is to say they are wrong?"

 

"I recall believin' tha' ye dispised me an dinnae want anythin' te do with me because I dinnae support ye in followin' Nero." He too turned, meeting her gaze dead on. "Given th' way our previous meetin' an' this one are goin', was I right?"

 

Roen gave him a hard stare. A frown creased her brow despite her best efforts. "Think you so little of me?" The rain pelted the canvas of leaves above and the flames in front of them danced chaotically.

 

"Dinnae know what te think right now,” Gharen barked back. “Because people feel th' need te nae talk te me about it. Given I don' have any recollection regardin' th' past cycle. Tis a bit o' a gap an' alot o' ground te cover. Only learned th' past couple o' suns ago tha' Ishgard has thrown open th' gates te their city." He shook his head as he looked away. "Somethin' I imagine tis old news an' would garner looks like I was a foreigner or a loon fer nae knowin'."

 

Breath… the paladin told herself. Why were they rushing into this discussion already? Was this not what she had feared? And yet… she knew the truth would and should come forth eventually. Her brother was almost chomping at the bits to hear it. After one long exhale, the frown that had twisted her visage slowly faded again.

 

"I understand your impatience,” she murmured. “It is as if you slept a long time. And while you slept, the world continued on." She turned back to the ocean and the waves that were violently crashing against the beach. “Give it time, Gharen. Not all of us are ready or wanting to relive those moons again."

 

That did not quell his ire. Gharen planted his cane into the sand as he rose again hastily, his hand nearly shaking with the effort. "Don' forget th' part about while I slept, some thrice damned infernal dark side ran about causin' trouble an' gods know what else,” he snapped back.

 

Roen shot him a narrowed look. "Indeed. That did happen. I would tell you what you want to know, only..." She exhaled sharply through her nose. "I know not the details. Delial, Kiht, and Kage... they were the ones that were following your trail."

 

Gharen paused, looking at her expectantly. “"An ye were lookin' inte other leads or th' like?"

 

The paladin’s gaze did not waver, although her entire form stiffened. Her fingers curled slightly upon the sand. "Nay." She shook her head slowly. "I only bid them to find you."

 

Gharen furrowed his brow, confusion clear in his eyes. "While ye were doin' what?"

 

Roen set her jaw, steeling herself. "As I tried to forget that the rest of the world existed."

 

A long pause fell between the siblings again. Her brother seemed frozen in time for a moment as he made no sound or movement. Then he swallowed as her words seemed to sink in, and looked away from her.

 

"So what yer meanin' te say... is ye were willin' abandon me te darkness,” he rasped. “Is tha' it, Little Wolf?"

 

Roen felt a chill run down her spine at that name. It was the name his other self had used to call her. The Wolf was what the stranger wearing her brother’s face called himself. And yet he knew all the things that Gharen knew, and used his words against her like daggers that knew where to strike. A part of her always wondered how much of that rage-driven entity was actually a part of her brother’s own personality.

 

Before she had a chance to answer, Gharen turned away and started to limp toward the beach.

 

That brought the paladin to her feet, anger closing her hand into a fist. "I sent Kiht after you. I begged Delial to find you. I pleaded for Kage to aid you. But I was in no condition to do anything for you. Do you understand?" she shouted at his back. "You were not the only one fighting your own demons!"

 

Gharen half turned to look over his shoulder, without meeting her eyes. "No, I don' understand, an' I don' suspect I will right away. Because I'd have moved mountains fer ye if'n t'was required o' me." When he turned toward the water again, the winds were finally beginning to diminish, and the sea was no longer angrily pounding against the sand. His tone quieted with resignation. "But ye are nae me, so I cannae expect ye te do as I would. Too true I suppose, alike but malms apart."

 

"I cared for you, when this happened to you the first time. Have you forgotten already? All you remember is me siding with a lawless pirate. You think I despised you when it was me begging you not to get involved? So we do not stand on opposite sides?"

 

Roen flexed her fingers, forcibly calming her tone. “We had not spoken. You disappeared. And… so did I. Only I did so, for a reason.” She exhaled and bowed her head. “I did not know what had happened. And you do not know what I was going through. Do not judge me for my--”

 

The paladin paused mid-breath when she heard another approach behind her. When Delial let out a long sigh to announce her presence, Roen pressed her lips shut. This was not why she had come.

 

Gharen glanced at the Highlander’s arrival, before he slowly strode further out toward the sea. “I need te think,” he muttered.

 

"One might be surprised how well that tunnel carries.” Delial continued her approach toward the fire. “Why, I could hear you half way up the beach!" She crossed her arms as she came to a stop a few fulms away from the paladin, her eyes flitting between the two siblings. It soon came to linger on the elder who continued to walk away.

 

"I should not have come." Roen sighed wearily. "This was what I feared every time I envisioned us talking." Her shoulders sank; her exasperation had faded with the storm’s retreat.

 

Delial's countenance flattened from annoyed to simply placid, almost resigned. She did not look surprised at all to have witnessed the bickering. "It all sounds so familiar, does it not? Circles and circles of words. I did ask him to be patient with you, but I suppose patience and open-mindedness do not go hand in hand."

 

Roen stared out into the night sky, where the stars were beginning to emerge. "I could have chosen better words. I... understand that he is angry. Frustrated. And hurt." She gave Delial a helpless shrug. "I told him I did not search for him."

 

“He is angry, just as you say, and eventually he will have to come to terms with it." Delial glanced Gharen's way again, her lips pursed. "It ought be plain you two need each other. Just in what way, I suppose, is the question."

 

When Roen did not answer, Delial lightened her tone. “Regardless, I am pleased you came. Your friend, is he...?" Her pale gaze searched the shadows behind the paladin, and her tone seemed to suggest that she was half expecting someone tall and dark and in a strange hat to be lost among the rocks.

 

Roen let out a quiet snort, her mood easing slightly. "Ah, he is attending to his dried fish." She watched a log pop within the flames and followed a single ember as it took flight into the air. "Gratitude, Delial. For all this. Despite my debacle of an attempt, I think… overall it was good for him."

 

Delial nodded as she lowered her hands to her hips. "That you made an attempt at all is important. I can say little on... on positive familial relations, I suppose, but I expect beneath that stubborn skin of his, Gharen understands it as well." She paused as she regarded the man in the distance. "He does not remember a thing. None of it, the year gone by. It must be extraordinarily difficult."

 

"I cannot tell him what happened. I was not there." Roen lowered her head with that admission. "Forgive me that I leave it to you and Kiht to share those truths with him. As for my own... I do not know if or when I will be ready."

 

When Roen looked to Delial, the Highlander wore a warmer expression, although it could have just been the flickering flames.

 

"Kiht even calls what I did... brave,” the paladin continued, shaking her head. “And I see no bravery, or anything of honor in it. Is it wrong that I cannot let it go? She seems befuddled when I refuse to speak of it."

 

Delial gave her an appraising look. "I speak from experience when I say... 'tis far, far easier said than done. Whether it was brave, or honorable, I do not know. But you will wear it all your life." Her words slowed with certainty. "Speak of it. Or do not. Everyone has their secrets. That ought be respected, blood or not."

 

Roen pondered that in silence. It was a gradual feeling, but one that lifted the corner of her lips and lightened the weight upon her chest. Of all people, it was Delial that not only understood, but also accepted her unwillingness to share that painful memory again.

 

“Gratitude,” Roen said quietly as she watched her brother send a small stone skipping out across the waves into the sea.

 

"There is something I wished to ask you... though I am not certain if you would know." It was Delial’s turn to break the silence. When Roen gave her an expectant look, the Highlander began to chew one corner of her lip. “You have been working in and around Isghard, yes? Fighting all manner of things, I expect."

 

“Aye. I have. What is it that you need?"

 

"Voidsent."

 

Roen blinked. She turned to the Highlander wide eyed.

 

"Have you encountered any?" Delial stared right back, a sudden severity settling in her eyes.

 

The paladin narrowed her eyes in thought. "I have not personally, but I do know that there is an underground fortress that was headed by House Dzemael. It is... said to be infested by the Voidsent. I have never been sent to fortify that area, I worked under the Knight Captain of House Durendaire. But all the knights know of the place."

 

"Is that so? I see. I suspect the place I seek is one unknown." Delial did not seem entirely satisfied, her shoulders drooping. "Well, I intend to return whenever Gharen is... settled. Do me a favor and keep an ear to the ground for me, would you?"

 

Roen nodded, when she spotted Gharen returning to the fire. He gave Delial a single nod before turning a stern visage upon the paladin. "I am sure'n ye had yer reasons, an' I may nae like, nor agree with them but above tha' yer family. An tha' takes precedence, tha' does nae change." Anger had faded from his voice.

 

"I am... relieved to hear you say so,” Roen sighed, a small smile touching her lips.

 

"Tha' ne'er changed an' was in question." Gharen looked between the two of them, before he began to shuffling off. "I'll head back te my room so tha' ye two can' catch up, or' gossip whichever t'was ye were doin'."

 

Roen and Delial exchanged looks with each other, both of their expression having softened.

 

Then from around the bend, the rocky tunnel echoed with one loud yell. “And no more pirate boyfriends!”

 

The paladin pressed her lips together, staring off to where her brother had disappeared in disbelief. "Did he just...?"

 

"Best not to question it, I think.” Delial crossed her arms again.

 

Roen ran her hand over her forehead into her hair, still staring after Gharen’s footprints. She did not know whether to laugh or frown. “No more pirate boyfriends,” she echoed dumbly.

 

"Nothing but trouble." Delial smirked.

 

And for the first time, she did not feel as if all the air in her lungs was being choked out at the mention of him. "Nothing but trouble," she muttered.

 

After an awkward moment of silence, Roen cleared her throat and looked back to Delial with a lighter expression in place. "Well, I should go. I shall keep an ear to the ground, for certain."

 

Delial grinned warmly, and this time, the paladin was certain it was not the trick of the fire. "My thanks. I suppose I will be in touch when I return to the area. As pleasant as this has been... always work to be done."

 

"Indeed, there is work to be done." The paladin looked around again. "As soon as I find Khadai..." she muttered, then paused as she gave the Highlander a pointed look. “You will take good care of Gharen, I trust.”

 

Delial’s smile broadened a little more, almost playfully so. "I will try, at least."

 

Roen arched her brow, unsure of what amused Delial so. Perhaps she did not want to know. Besides, Khadai had been out of her sight for far too long, perhaps he had gotten lost again. Or somehow found himself competing in some troublesome contest. The paladin was determined to discourage him from obtaining yet another bizarre trophy. She quickly spun on her heel and began to make her way toward the huts.

 

“Stay well!” Roen paused, waving to Delial almost distractedly.

 

Delial’s strange grin lingered as the woman gently waved her off.

[Roen]

The white stone that arched over the entrance looked weather-worn, scoured by the coastal winds of the Rhotano, bleached by the naked sun; each small crevice was filled with grains of salt and sand, and its white hue had faded slightly over the years. But the flowers within the pots on each side of the portal leading into the front lawn bloomed brightly still, as did the stalks of lavender and sunflowers that gently swayed in the garden.

 

“We took the liberty to send a caretaker to maintain the front yard,” Reese Templeton had informed her. “I thought it would look more welcoming. Why don’t you visit and see for yourself? It is your property after all.”

 

Roen looked up to the tall residence that had greeted her years ago much as it did today. This was once Nero’s home, seated upon the highest plot in the Mist, overlooking the beach below. The heat from the sands gave way to a cooler breeze at this elevation, and the echoing calls of the seagulls and the crashing waves were just a distant whisper. Soft lavender petals caressed her palm as she slowly made her way to the door, her hand lightly brushing over the flowers.

 

The estate had been bequeathed onto her, as well as what remained within. Furniture and other belongings had been boxed and arranged to be shipped for Othard, but when the recipient never arrived at the destination, it was all sent back. And while the Office of Ganathain & Templeton Gridanian Arbitration Enterprises had been considerate enough to peripherally maintain the property that once belonged to Sebastian Redgrave, apparently they felt it was finally time that the new owner took over.

 

Roen glanced at the large cannon that still stood next to the arched gateway, aimed at the horizon. While never intended to be used, its very presence was something that boldly showcased Nero’s arrogance and fearlessness, perhaps even hinting at his life of piracy. She could never deny that he lacked any flare.

 

The outside was just as she had remembered it. Has it been almost three years already…? The house always seemed somewhat lonely upon its high perch, although as it looked out onto the seemingly endless ocean, there was a sense of longing with threads of hope woven in.

 

When she entered the home, there was a thin cloud of dust that veiled everything, and the stale air within felt heavy and unmoving. The large furnitures had been unpacked and placed roughly where they had been before, and a few unopened boxes were left scattered throughout the house. It was as Reese had told her: what were sent back were left within the estate, most boxes left unopened.

 

The last time Roen had set foot in this place was in search of Nero, after he had left it abandoned. Then, it was only filled with ghosts of regret and unfulfilled dreams. Now, she could imagine from the corner of her eyes, the image of him seated at his desk in his study, busily attending to a stack of contracts and documents. She recalled the many conversations they had as she sat across from him, and a few times, they were even light hearted.

 

He had even entertained a guest once in this solitary house; Roen recalled a visit from Kiht. The image of the quiet talk that she and the Keeper shared in front of the fireplace rose easily in her mind, and it brought forth a wistful sigh. She had told her friend how important Nero and his mission were to her, even confessing much of her feelings. This place still held many memories of the man that once lived, and all the small moments that also filled her life while she was in his. Roen exhaled, finding small measure of comfort that she no longer felt crippled by such reminiscence.

 

"And you? Will you...return?" Kasrjin’s last question to her suddenly echoed in her mind.

 

Well, I guess this would be the first step. Roen inhaled deeply. She set her sword aside and rolled up her sleeves. The first task would be to clean the house, then set to opening the boxes and organizing all the contents within. She was not sure what she would do once all things were cleaned, if she would even make this place her own. But she would figure that out later.

 

First, she needed to open all the windows and let the fresh air in.

[Roen]

The silk shirt was still soft to touch, its white sheen accentuated against the rich crimson embroidery that was woven into the sleeves and the seams. Roen gently lifted it out of the box, her eyes studying the fine details in the tailoring. With a few tugs, the ballooned sleeves regained their airiness, puffing out proudly as if to show off the frame of the man that had once worn them.

 

Roen had not complemented Nero when he arrived at the Starlight Ball, dressed fancily in this nobleman’s tunic. She was at a lost for words that he had shown up at all. She tucked her joy away quietly, only greeting him with a warning about her brother being present within. His returned quip was quietly confident, only pondering the varied possibilities of the impending encounter, as they entered the Sanctum of the Twelve together. A mass of gloriously dressed patrons danced and twirled within.

 

That had been nearly three years ago.

 

Roen held up the shirt in front of her, wondering why this one of all tunics were preserved. Nero had not packed frivolously, but the outfit he wore to the Ball was precisely folded and tucked away with his personal belongings meant for Othard.

 

Was there a part of him that wanted to remember?

 

Roen brought the fabric to her face to feel its caress, and inhaled deeply. The memories of the cool damp air of the forest and the scent of the man that wore it returned easily to her memory.

 

The moon had shone bright that evening.

 

Roen had never seen it as clear as she did that night, pale and alone in a night sky littered with countless stars. She wondered if it was the hushed calm of the Shroud that allowed the night to unveil itself with such honesty.

 

The footsteps of the pirate and the paladin were quiet over the mossy ground that spanned the forest around the Sanctum of the Twelve. Roen did not know for how long they had strolled amongst the woods after leaving the Starlight Ball; their pace was unhurried, their course meandering. Nero had been quiet for most of the way, although Roen herself was lost in thought. Much had happened during the Ball, from Gharen asking about the Yoyorano family, to Mister Bellveil revealing to Gideon that she had a secret she was desperately trying to hide. Then there was the run-in with Taeros and Coatleque, and the tense exchange of words between them. Her thoughts were so far away that by the time the two found themselves in a small clearing, she nor the pirate knew how they had gotten there.

 

She thought it was part luck and part coincidence that they came upon the secluded grove--a cleared, oval copse shrouded by trees. There was a break in the canopy that allowed the stars and moonlight to illuminate the space, and the quiet babble of a distant stream filled the air along with soft singing of crickets. It was a charming respite, a welcomed escape from the shadows that lingered everywhere else.

 

Roen eyed the smuggler who shuffled ahead of her awkwardly, his hand brushing through those jet black locks streaked with orange. She marveled at how the silver light that filtered down from above seemed to calm even those blazing highlights… and maybe even sooth his usually guarded disposition. He turned his head left then right, placing his hands on his hips. He fidgeted, and seemed unable to decide between coughing or sighing.

 

“I never did like walking around in the Shroud, you know.” Nero’s confession came out more like a groan. “Everything looks the same. How do Gridanians put up with it? Perhaps they bring lengths of rope with them to backtrack.”

 

Roen took comfort in the shimmering radiance from above, a smile rising to her lips. “I used to get lost here often.” She shrugged, stepping carefully over a root on her tip toes, careful not to let the heels of her shoes sink in between the vines. “But sometimes...I did not mind it so much.”

 

The pirate smirked and cocked an eye at her. “Ever the woodland sprite, hm? It’s a shame you don’t do well on ships.” He threw a glance at his surroundings. “I don’t suppose you know where this is, do you?”

 

Her smile widened into a grin as she walked past him into the grove, slipping out of her shoes as her baretoes tested the soft moss covered ground. She spun once on the balls of her feet, letting her dress billow around her legs. “Does it matter? It is beautiful, is it not?” She opened her arms wide. “It makes you forget, just for little while, the rest of the world.” There was a part of her that desperately needed to not think of other things.

 

Nero curled something oddly akin to an amused frown. “Perhaps not right this moment, but I would rather not be buried by sylphs, thank you very much.” He exhaled. “I suppose we have been walking for some time, anyway.”

 

The paladin ambled around the periphery of the grove, but glanced back at the smuggler when she heard him grunt, trying to take a seat on the grass. He was struggling with the restrictions of the outfit he had chosen for the Starlight Ball.

 

“Oh, sod it.” The pirate hastily undid the buckles holding the breastplate to the silk white shirt he had worn, and the thin plate of metal thudded softly on the forest floor. Following that was the tight laces on the shirt itself; half of its length was undone, somewhat exposing his chest. Nero let out a long satisfied exhale and stretched, having been released from the confines of his fanciful ensemble.

 

“I do not know if you are aware,” the smuggler explained as he caught her watching him. He smirked back when their eyes met, and Roen quickly glanced elsewhere. “But formal wear is very uncomfortable.” He gave the breastplate an accusatory look. “Or perhaps they just fitted me wrong. Silly design, really. They make the sleeves and everything else loose, only to tighten it up with all those laces and cuffs. I was rather stifled in that ball, wearing this getup.”

 

Roen was doing her very best to press her lips together, to try and lessen her outward expression of amusement. “Despite all your complaints, you did look rather dashing.” She looked down at her own dress, the red and white silks billowing with a gentle forest breeze. Wearing such an ornate ensemble was a rare treat for her, one that she secretly savored.

 

“My dear, are you suggesting that there are times where I do not look dashing? I am offended. Wounded. Besmirched, even.” By the time Roen turned back to him, he was stretching his arms outwards, twisting his torso this way and that. “This is much more comfortable, in any case.”

 

"It has been awhile since I wore such things," she said wistfully as she lightly tugged on the fall of her skirt to let it sway. When she peered back up at him, her grey eyes twinkled a little. "And...you do smirk a bit much."

 

He looked at her in an expression of mock horror. "But this is a Lazarov trademark!" he protested. "Passed down our family line for generations!" He straightened his posture and gave a low bow, crossing his left arm across his chest and offering his right arm towards the paladin. "I daresay I must challenge you to a duel for my family's honour. Seeing as how none are watching." His eyes danced mischievously. "Though bear in mind that it's been some time since I've had to dance. Years, even. I sensed that you wished for the opportunity while we were at the ball, but I could not humiliate myself in such a fashion. Not in public, anyway."

 

Roen did not answer immediately, instead she spun from him and took a few more steps into the grove. She tossed aside her shoes, preferring the bare feet to lightly press upon the moist grass. When she turned back to the pirate, it was with a quick spin, to send her dress flaring outwards. She had a beaming smile. "Challenge of a duel. I accept."

 

She approached him and placed her hand upon his, their palms lightly touching. "I did want to dance. But I would not have you do something you did not want to." She canted her head. "You had begrudgingly agreed to coming to the Ball after all."

 

"I would like it to go on record that it is only because going in public carries a distinct danger. Let it never be said that I do nothing for you, hm?" His teasing grin was only a small warning to him gasping her offered hand and sweeping her body close to his. "Is a waltz acceptable? I am afraid those are the only steps I have memorised."

 

Roen almost let out a small laughter of surprise, but she stepped into his hold nimbly. She nodded, her expression warm, perhaps her cheeks even more so. "I did not know you knew the waltz."

 

Nero began to move, placing his right arm around the small of her back and firmly grasping her left hand. His steps were unsteady but practised. His steps were calm and slow, not very much like the energy that the style usually demanded, and he gently turned with her as they moved through the grove.

 

"It was for a Gridanian soiree. A business partner insisted I make an attendance, and he was not one you said no to." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Have you any idea how difficult it is to find dance instructors in Limsa Lominsa on such short notice? Perhaps it is lucky I did not learn to dance like a courtesan."

 

"Mm." Her steps matched his with ease , her dress whispering quietly over the soft grass. "Did you sweep someone else off their feet?"

 

"Sadly, no. I am not entirely sure what happened, but spirits were served and the last thing I remember is being told to put the confectionary tray down and leave the premises." A small chuckle accompanied the memory. "The rest, as they say, is history." His movements were becoming more fluid as he seemingly gained more confidence. "Coincidentally, it is there that I gained my distaste of doublets as well."

 

There was only the quiet rustling of the leaves, the whispering babble of a stream, and a choir of crickets, but they all sounded like music to her ears as the two of them glided in small circles through the clear copse. She wondered if he could see how warm her cheeks felt. She was silently grateful for the cool forest air. "I am glad that you did not choose to repeat that particular performance, this eve."

 

"And risk embarrassing you, my dear? Not a chance." He stopped abruptly in his movement and, still grasping her arm and the small of her back, bent low. He paused as he held her easily, almost parallel with the ground. His icy-blue eyes held a twinkle of amusement. "Moonlight suits you. I was not aware."

 

Roen let out an unexpected gasp of laughter at the dip, then she pressed her lips together again as if to quell it. "You are not a bad dancer. Better than you give yourself credit for."

 

"Do not give me so much credit. This is the only dance I know, and I must say that I find the movements dreadfully boring. It is nothing but spinning." He pulled her up and again held her body close to his. "If there is more to the act, I do not know it."

 

Her grey eyes darted between his, as if seeing him in a brand new light. As they stood again, she glanced to their joined hand. "It is not just about the steps. It is... it is about the movement of two people as one. Each one can shine in turn and yet the two never part. Then they unite again to move together once more. It is meant to be a delicate art."

 

Nero grinned. "Care to demonstrate?"

 

Roen smiled brightly. She pulled back slightly, slipping out of his hold, but their hand remained joined as she stepped across from him into a graceful spin. She stepped towards him again, but to his backside, their tentative hold remaining ever entwined.

 

Nero did not move much though he continued to hold her hand. "I hope you are not expecting me to improvise. I would rather not inflict any injuries tonight, hm?"

 

She looked at him over her shoulder. "There are many ways to move, together and yet separate." This time with their hands held high, she spun around him, coming to face him chest to chest. The billow of her dress wrapped around her legs. "Why Mister Lazarov, you dare lose to me in this duel?"

 

"Admittedly, this is one thing I would not necessarily mind losing in. Though I will endeavour to provide a challenge." He took hold of her and their rotary began again. In the middle of one rotation, he released his right hand from the small of her back, allowing her to extend.

 

"Do take care that I am improvising now, and I take no responsibility," he said, grinning. "This is not my forte, you realise."

 

Roen spun once, her free hand extending behind her, before she stepped back towards him. "And if you lose this duel, what do I gain with my victory?"

 

"A cookie in an amusing shape is all I can promise," he returned. "Though, be aware that I may play dirty. Like this." He began taking her in circles again, but just as abruptly as he started, he planted a foot behind her heel, tripping her, and back she went. He of course followed suit, though he nimbly took care to spin as they both fell, placing his body beneath hers as they tumbled onto the soft grass.

 

Roen let out a surprised yelp, followed by a laugh as she landed on top of him. Nero sounded somewhat breathless, although he still maintained his smirk, as ever. "We can call this a draw, hm?"

 

Her auburn locks fell loose and around his face. She wrinkled her nose but her lips were still curled in a smile. "You cheat!" She lightly tapped his chest with a fist.

 

"Pirate, remember?" The statement was punctuated with a light and sudden kiss to the side of her face. "You would do well to remember that." His breathing steadied as he lay in the grass, his loose shirt not offering much resistance to the soothing sensation of the cool grass. He stared up at the brilliant moon and the stars above. "Starlight Ball. An apt name for it, I suppose."

 

What mischief she held for him quickly faded with that kiss. Her cheeks felt warm again, even though she had felt his lips before. She sighed softly and slid onto the grass next to him. "This...is nice," she said softly.

 

"Daegsatz would have never believed it," she murmured after a pause. "That you would dance with me under the starlight." There was a quiet inhale as she fought off any melancholy that threatened to descend. She pursed her lips stubbornly. "He actually dared me to teach you."

 

Nero let out a soft snort. "I suppose he's busy writing me an invoice for all of the gil I owe him now. Well, let it never be said that I am not full of surprises." He turned his head slightly, looking at her. "Though, keep this to yourself, hm? My reputation would be ruined otherwise."

 

She turned to lay on her side, her head propped against her hand. "It is good to see you smile," she admitted quietly as she regarded him. "I daresay you do not do it often enough. It suits you."

 

"If I smiled too often, then they would cease to become special.” He spun his body to face her briefly before reaching an arm over her and rather forcefully rolling her atop him, tucking her head in towards his neck. She had caught for an instant that his expression had grown somber, just as he hid his face from hers with the gesture. "And I can't have that now, can I?"

 

Roen yelped again, but remained where she laid, crossing her arms and resting her chin against his collarbone. Her breath was soft against his neck. "You do not give yourself enough credit. You hold much in reserve." She turned her head slightly, her nose lightly brushing against his cheek. "I believe I know you, a little." There was a smile behind those words.

 

Nero fell to silence, merely staring up at the canopy of light that was the night sky. His left arm had reached around her and his thumb idly stroked her cheek, half in affection and half in contemplation. Then suddenly he pulled her up closer towards him and kissed her lips, almost forcefully so. He held her head to his for a long time before releasing her, his breath finally escaping him, drifting warmly past her lips and cheek.

 

"This was....an invitation to forget our troubles, no?" He kissed her again. "Then let us forget our troubles."

 

 

The shirt still held his scent.

 

Roen laid on the bed, one arm covering her eyes. She felt the single streak of moisture that had left its trail upon her cheek. Two years, and it still hurt. It no longer paralyzed her as it used to, but such thoughts of him still rekindled that deep ache within her chest.

 

She remained on that bed for awhile longer, as the ocean winds rolled in, and the distant cry of seagulls filled the air.