Part III: Memories and Reality
The sun had risen over the Silver Bazaar, though it was still early enough in the morning where the dry desert heat hadn't taken full form yet. Kylin had waited until morning to come to the address on the book, though he hadn't slept much prior. Before leaving Ul'dah, he had covertly donated enough gil to the Thaumaturge's Guild to ensure the woman was buried properly, rather than left to the vultures in the desert.
The midlander gazed at the small book, then up to the little house before him. The address matched. He had dressed himself up to something more formal this time, a red and white coatee with matching breeches. He took in a soft sigh before knocking on the door gently. A moment passed that seemed like an eternity. When no response came, Kylin turned around and began to leave. That was when the door creaked open, revealing the weathered old face of a midlander woman. Her white hair was tied up neatly in a bun and her attire was that of a somewhat typical Ul'dahn 'commoner,' a weathered white tunic and matching slops. "May I help you, young man?"
Her voice was raspy, though gentle. Her soft gaze helped alleviate some of Kylin's hesitation, though he secretly wondered if he was even at the right place. He had half expected another miqo'te to answer. The hyur stuttered at first, before finally clearing his throat to respond. "I uh, I found something that perhaps belongs to you?"
Kylin slowly held out the book. The woman's gaze followed his hand, her eyes resting gently on the item before her. She sighed quietly and closed her eyes. "Young man, where did you find this?"
Kylin swallowed for a moment. He wasn't sure if this woman was perhaps an enemy of the miqo'te, or a friend. He figured he'd have to make a risky move to find out, such as showing this woman the tattoo and determining the reaction. "A miqo'te woman entrusted it to me. I figured she wanted me to bring it here. She only trusted me with it after I showed her this though..."
The midlander turned partly to the woman and pulled his shirt down just enough to reveal half of the tattoo, keeping his eyes fixated on the woman's expression. The old woman's eyes widened, and then she simply went quiet. After a moment of awkward silence, she reached a hand out. Kylin instantly assumed it was for the book and went to hand it to her. However, her hand quite suddenly shifted course and smacked the younger hyur upside the head, much to his surprise and momentary sharp pain. "What the bloody hell are you thinking? You don't just go around showing that to anyone. Now get in here. I'll make us some tea."
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The woman, who had introduced herself as Cordelia, sat a tray with the two cups of tea on the little table and gently slid one toward her guest after sitting on the cushy chair opposite of him. Sorrow filled her eyes as Kylin recounted his story to her, and the death of the miqo'te woman.
"Iyana," Cordelia said matter-of-factly as she gently wiped a tear from her eye. "Her name was Iyana. A bright and fiercely loyal woman full of talent like the which I've never seen before. She and her beloved of many years were like my own children, even if not by blood. That little book you brought is her beloved's journal."
Kylin looked oddly at Cordelia and then to the book on the table. "A journal? Is that all that is?"
The old woman laughed softly as she wrapped a cloth scarf around her neck. "Is that all, you say? What more need it be? Our memories are one of the most defining aspects of our lives. Almost all will deny that their past is of any relevance. But that is complete hogwash. Our pasts, more specifically our memories, forge us into the people we are today. Memories have tremendous power over us all. Why do you think that people smile upon remembering something pleasant? Or frown when recalling something terrible? They are the very soul of our being, and determine the paths we walk. Memories and reality create a powerful duality. Our memories are forged in reality, and reality is determined by our memories. Byregot's masterpieces are symbolic of memory, creating pieces of work that are meant to be immortalized. Halone, in contrast, teaches us the harshness of an ever-changing and dangerous reality, a reality that determines whether memory survives or perishes. Is it any wonder the two are siblings? They create a celestial balance in all things. So yes, that is simply a journal. But it contains power within its pages. Memories worth fighting for. It is thus no wonder Iyana died protecting it."
Kylin bit his lower lip as he listened to the older woman carefully. "She died...for that? That's a bit tragic, don't you think? And who in their right mind would even kill someone for a journal anyway?"
Cordelia's face went stern at the question as she took a sip of her tea. "Who else do you think? Our still elusive enemies behind the Sundering of course. That horrible fateful day so many years ago that wiped out the Stormguard in its near entirety, leaving them unable to recover as the Calamity came and unintentionally finished the job. You see, Mister Felstar, that is no simple journal. It contains the memories of a very important person. Iyana's lover, you see, was not any ordinary Stormguard member. He was a Highguard, last one of Legio Fortis, and she his mystic...Had our enemies got their hands on that journal, I wouldn't be here right now, as they'd be at my door instead of you. Furthermore, they'd have access to the memoires and secrets of one of the former highest ranking members of the Guard. So yes, tragic as it is, it was as worth dying for as it was killing for. Surely you know what the Stormguard lives to protect?"
Kylin frowned slightly, taking a moment to sip from his tea in order to think of his response. "I...found out a lot of things on my own prior to Keir recruiting me. And after I joined, I--"
"Keir Lowell?!" The woman shot up in her seat, her old feeble bones seeming suddenly invigorated. "Halone be praised! He survived the Sundering? And you've seen him?"
"Y-yes," Kylin stated with surprise over the woman's reaction. "But that was before the Calamity. I haven't seen or heard from him since. I assume he..."
Cordelia slowly returned to her seat, her hopeful face shifting back to one of sorrow. "I see. How terrible. Mister Felstar, I think we have much more to discuss before this day is over. Let me make us something to eat. It's going to be a long day, one that perhaps will change both of our fates, and so many others'..."
