Four months ago.
"...still can't believe he just let her go. After all this."
"Well yes, precisely. All this would be why he let her go."
"Come on Fan, have you seen the way those savages look at us? Like they're wondering how to stack our skulls, they are. Like that other camp."
"There's no comparison! That was perhaps, at most, twoscore men-at-arms, in a mining camp. We've got - what - thrice that? In a fortified camp, with a magitek shield generator. Squads of Adventurers coming through -"
"Who didn't fare so well against the cats last time!"
"-mages, walls, even professional soldiers in from Ishgard."
"A handful. And I'm still saying they'd just see it as a challenge."
"Well, their Nunh's smarter than that. He sees opportunity."
"He IS smarter, and that's what I'm worried about! This can't last."
"You worry about everything, Togg..."
The two guards' voices faded as they continued their rounds. Inside the hut, Rienne turned her attention back to the tunic she was mending. Her eyes' and hands' attention, anyroad, for her mind still walked the tracks of that discussion. An old worry, and she didn't know if it did her any good to hear it confirmed in another's voice.
For she agreed with the first man. She couldn't believe the Nunh just let Garri go.
It had the makings of a bard's tale; two precocious girls, not quite adults, one highborn and one low, forming a deep friendship. Some would say more than friendship, though Rienne was not one to countenance gossip; part of what set her apart from most of the soldiers here, kept her from forming bonds. That and her status as a Wood Wailer, something she held pride in and kept up the standards for, even this far north of the Shroud, of her true duties. Duty took many forms, however...
But yes, the friendship of Frances Lorieux, scion of the Lorieux family and heir to all its wealth and connections, and Garri, scruffy Ul'dahn miqo'te street rat, would be tale enough had the pair not taken their adventures to the high road, not gotten involved in the hunt - Rienne's hunt - for justice. Had not the keeper of the moon seen the killing, the murder of two of Rienne's fellow Wailers in the heart of Gridania itself. Seen it, with the blessing of the Echo.
Dreamed it... dreamed of a strong, athletic and remorseless killer, a miqo'te, white fur with blue frosting, bronzed skin, and lethal skill with a spear. A clear description, though the killer was masked and hooded... with such a trail, how hard could it be?
A description that covered every single member of the Falling Star Sept, as it turned out.
Hydaelyn had a sick sense of humor.
For a time, it seemed that the solution would present itself naturally; the more conflict with the tribals, the more likely the killer would be revealed. Not that most, if not all of them didn't deserve to be put down. But it was the principle, and more, it was her duty. And then... this inconvenient, fragile peace. The unexpected return of Garri, whom their Nunh, this X'zarann, had captured. All at once, the situation defused, so quickly it made everyone's head spin. Now, for almost two moons, no hostility at all.
The wildwood sighed, leaning back in her chair and looking at the ceiling. It was a difficult thing, to wish for strife. Constant, low-burning guilt. Yet she was stymied. Garri was stubborn and headstrong at the best of times, and disinclined to listen to reason. Also, her gift could not be coaxed. Rienne had long thought on how to incite her to resuming the hunt, to no avail; the girl seemed to have lost interest, instead acquiring a queer fascination for her onetime captors, an interest that she tried to share with miss Lorieux. Thankfully Frances thus far resisted the girl's suggestions that they go explore... SHE at least had matured. Yet the result was this impasse.
With another sigh, Rienne went back to her work. She comforted herself in the truth of that guardsman Togg's words. Peace couldn't last.
"...still can't believe he just let her go. After all this."
"Well yes, precisely. All this would be why he let her go."
"Come on Fan, have you seen the way those savages look at us? Like they're wondering how to stack our skulls, they are. Like that other camp."
"There's no comparison! That was perhaps, at most, twoscore men-at-arms, in a mining camp. We've got - what - thrice that? In a fortified camp, with a magitek shield generator. Squads of Adventurers coming through -"
"Who didn't fare so well against the cats last time!"
"-mages, walls, even professional soldiers in from Ishgard."
"A handful. And I'm still saying they'd just see it as a challenge."
"Well, their Nunh's smarter than that. He sees opportunity."
"He IS smarter, and that's what I'm worried about! This can't last."
"You worry about everything, Togg..."
The two guards' voices faded as they continued their rounds. Inside the hut, Rienne turned her attention back to the tunic she was mending. Her eyes' and hands' attention, anyroad, for her mind still walked the tracks of that discussion. An old worry, and she didn't know if it did her any good to hear it confirmed in another's voice.
For she agreed with the first man. She couldn't believe the Nunh just let Garri go.
It had the makings of a bard's tale; two precocious girls, not quite adults, one highborn and one low, forming a deep friendship. Some would say more than friendship, though Rienne was not one to countenance gossip; part of what set her apart from most of the soldiers here, kept her from forming bonds. That and her status as a Wood Wailer, something she held pride in and kept up the standards for, even this far north of the Shroud, of her true duties. Duty took many forms, however...
But yes, the friendship of Frances Lorieux, scion of the Lorieux family and heir to all its wealth and connections, and Garri, scruffy Ul'dahn miqo'te street rat, would be tale enough had the pair not taken their adventures to the high road, not gotten involved in the hunt - Rienne's hunt - for justice. Had not the keeper of the moon seen the killing, the murder of two of Rienne's fellow Wailers in the heart of Gridania itself. Seen it, with the blessing of the Echo.
Dreamed it... dreamed of a strong, athletic and remorseless killer, a miqo'te, white fur with blue frosting, bronzed skin, and lethal skill with a spear. A clear description, though the killer was masked and hooded... with such a trail, how hard could it be?
A description that covered every single member of the Falling Star Sept, as it turned out.
Hydaelyn had a sick sense of humor.
For a time, it seemed that the solution would present itself naturally; the more conflict with the tribals, the more likely the killer would be revealed. Not that most, if not all of them didn't deserve to be put down. But it was the principle, and more, it was her duty. And then... this inconvenient, fragile peace. The unexpected return of Garri, whom their Nunh, this X'zarann, had captured. All at once, the situation defused, so quickly it made everyone's head spin. Now, for almost two moons, no hostility at all.
The wildwood sighed, leaning back in her chair and looking at the ceiling. It was a difficult thing, to wish for strife. Constant, low-burning guilt. Yet she was stymied. Garri was stubborn and headstrong at the best of times, and disinclined to listen to reason. Also, her gift could not be coaxed. Rienne had long thought on how to incite her to resuming the hunt, to no avail; the girl seemed to have lost interest, instead acquiring a queer fascination for her onetime captors, an interest that she tried to share with miss Lorieux. Thankfully Frances thus far resisted the girl's suggestions that they go explore... SHE at least had matured. Yet the result was this impasse.
With another sigh, Rienne went back to her work. She comforted herself in the truth of that guardsman Togg's words. Peace couldn't last.
![[Image: MBLxxyE.gif]](http://i.imgur.com/MBLxxyE.gif)
