Thread Closed
Before W'chaza Yheli became a maverick of a lieutenant she is deemed presently, she worked as a bartender and chef, located in the city of Wineport.
It was here where she first learned of logistics and warehousing, of arts and crafts, as well as the proper way to use both a knife and sword to cut, dice, slice, fillet, and stab.
Feeding customers. Treating wounds. Speaking properly. Refining paletes. Maneuvering workers, both herself and others, in an efficient manner. Telling the difference between a Port and a Banyuls, despite both have the same, relative sweetness, by tasting it.
There were no secrets behind her success; through hard work, perseverance, and the ire of more than a few officers, she rose through the ranks of the Maelstrom and secured her commission as one of the younger officers within the Fleet. Never were she truly punished for her misgivings due to the fruits of her labor... until today.
The former lieutenant sat in her chair, mulled over her collection of works, and recalled a rough record of the recent trial in the past, few days. Oddly enough, the results she worked for... panned out well. She sought peace between Gloam and Limsa--despite originally designing weapons to take on Gloam--and it was achieved. A product of a manipulated officer's gambit which, normally, would be tossed out at her revelation of working with one Leanne Delphium, and yet... it passed.
The result of the trial forced Yheli's resignation, as she promised Ojene Suinuet that, due to her misgivings and unfair treatment of others, she would voluntarily give up power to prevent more mishaps in the future as an officer.
"Were it so easy..." Yheli remarked to herself, as she mused through textbook after textbook of words written both in the Eorzean and Doman tongue. "...But alas, I can do little about the past. Time to look towards the present and the future."
She consulted with Leanne about a possible settlement in the Far Eastern continent, away from the current political affairs surrounding the Eorzean city-states. She reviewed the property taxes, the information on local markets, foods, drinks, culture, types of buildings, what could and could not be done with regards to property, the likelihood of good neighbors at their new, humble home. The Seeker poured through multiple texts as well, acquired from deals of good-will and business, regarding the practices of the Samurai originating from Othard and Doma, and honed her own swordsmanship as preparation for what's to come and for protection.
Yet... despite the promise of a future, a few parts of her past clung to her. Osric Melkire, chief amongst them.
Yheli had many words for the man, but ultimately wrote him off as a 'tolerable man who's not much better than I am, afterall. Perhaps if we met under different circumstances... we could be better friends.' The woman wore a small smile at the thought about the man. Typically, one breaks bread with those whose lives they, at the very least, respected. In the case of Yheli and Osric, the bread was a deck of cards and the preparation a game of 'Hide the High Heart' whilst both were stranded out at sea on a dingy before the Agency picked them both up.
"Heh. Honor. I disrepected it by casting you into the fire." A small muttering of her words and a pause on her face as the Seeker's brow furrowed, thinking for a moment.
"Perhaps it is I who should receive the punch, Melkire... afterall, it is I who has worked against you in an unfair manner and you... do deserve to enact the punishment I dared to inflict upon you. 'Tis what an honorable person would desire, I believe..." A heavy sigh came from Yheli's lips as her eyes glossed over the papers in front of her, line at a time, and she raised a hand to adjust her glasses.
A new thought soon crossed over Yheli's mind.
Wait... do the ends justify the means afterall? Or do the means justify the ends? Philosophy wasn't the woman's strongest suit, but it gave pause and forced the woman into a slow recline as she leaned further into the couch she rested upon.
"...I would think the ends justify the means, aye... but perhaps the other argument isn't inherently flawed either. As if a combination of both are best, like how there are two sides to a piece of gil..."
More pause. A stare towards the wooden ceiling and large bookshelves around her. A blink of her eyes.
"And who decides what means are 'good' and 'bad'? Is it myself? Another? A group or nation?" She lowered her hands--the left with a piece of loose-leafed paper and the right a textbook parted midway--to her lap, thinking over the question once more.
A minute passed. A hour. Several hours.
The question in Yheli's mind kept her in a constant trance, as if she were a computer processing a high-caliber, large file to display a result.
"...What if there never is a single right person or entity for all time, but rather something that changes as time goes by?" She stopped, inhaled, then exhaled, before her head turned over to her left and she sighed.
"Who knows? It's not a question I'm able to find the answer to now... what matters is confidence in my own decisions and doing what I need to do."
Yheli raised herself up from the couch and collected her materials strew on the couch and floor in an orderly fashion, putting them back inside of her desk and the bookshelf one at a time to ensure no mistakes in placements. She glanced over to her right at the clothes chest, wrapping herself in a scholarly robe, putting on clogs, and grabbing her sword next to her bedside and securing it on her waist. She grabbed a decently sized bag and placed bundles of clothes alongside chef knifes, measuring tools, thief's tools, writing materials, books, and hygienical items neatly placed into the container. A deft hand shut the container closed and Yheli wrapped it up and secured it to her back. A hand slowly raised from her side and up to her ear, as the woman softly and sweetly spoke into it.
"...Leanne? Let's go on an adventure. Together."
It was here where she first learned of logistics and warehousing, of arts and crafts, as well as the proper way to use both a knife and sword to cut, dice, slice, fillet, and stab.
Feeding customers. Treating wounds. Speaking properly. Refining paletes. Maneuvering workers, both herself and others, in an efficient manner. Telling the difference between a Port and a Banyuls, despite both have the same, relative sweetness, by tasting it.
There were no secrets behind her success; through hard work, perseverance, and the ire of more than a few officers, she rose through the ranks of the Maelstrom and secured her commission as one of the younger officers within the Fleet. Never were she truly punished for her misgivings due to the fruits of her labor... until today.
The former lieutenant sat in her chair, mulled over her collection of works, and recalled a rough record of the recent trial in the past, few days. Oddly enough, the results she worked for... panned out well. She sought peace between Gloam and Limsa--despite originally designing weapons to take on Gloam--and it was achieved. A product of a manipulated officer's gambit which, normally, would be tossed out at her revelation of working with one Leanne Delphium, and yet... it passed.
The result of the trial forced Yheli's resignation, as she promised Ojene Suinuet that, due to her misgivings and unfair treatment of others, she would voluntarily give up power to prevent more mishaps in the future as an officer.
"Were it so easy..." Yheli remarked to herself, as she mused through textbook after textbook of words written both in the Eorzean and Doman tongue. "...But alas, I can do little about the past. Time to look towards the present and the future."
She consulted with Leanne about a possible settlement in the Far Eastern continent, away from the current political affairs surrounding the Eorzean city-states. She reviewed the property taxes, the information on local markets, foods, drinks, culture, types of buildings, what could and could not be done with regards to property, the likelihood of good neighbors at their new, humble home. The Seeker poured through multiple texts as well, acquired from deals of good-will and business, regarding the practices of the Samurai originating from Othard and Doma, and honed her own swordsmanship as preparation for what's to come and for protection.
Yet... despite the promise of a future, a few parts of her past clung to her. Osric Melkire, chief amongst them.
Yheli had many words for the man, but ultimately wrote him off as a 'tolerable man who's not much better than I am, afterall. Perhaps if we met under different circumstances... we could be better friends.' The woman wore a small smile at the thought about the man. Typically, one breaks bread with those whose lives they, at the very least, respected. In the case of Yheli and Osric, the bread was a deck of cards and the preparation a game of 'Hide the High Heart' whilst both were stranded out at sea on a dingy before the Agency picked them both up.
"Heh. Honor. I disrepected it by casting you into the fire." A small muttering of her words and a pause on her face as the Seeker's brow furrowed, thinking for a moment.
"Perhaps it is I who should receive the punch, Melkire... afterall, it is I who has worked against you in an unfair manner and you... do deserve to enact the punishment I dared to inflict upon you. 'Tis what an honorable person would desire, I believe..." A heavy sigh came from Yheli's lips as her eyes glossed over the papers in front of her, line at a time, and she raised a hand to adjust her glasses.
A new thought soon crossed over Yheli's mind.
Wait... do the ends justify the means afterall? Or do the means justify the ends? Philosophy wasn't the woman's strongest suit, but it gave pause and forced the woman into a slow recline as she leaned further into the couch she rested upon.
"...I would think the ends justify the means, aye... but perhaps the other argument isn't inherently flawed either. As if a combination of both are best, like how there are two sides to a piece of gil..."
More pause. A stare towards the wooden ceiling and large bookshelves around her. A blink of her eyes.
"And who decides what means are 'good' and 'bad'? Is it myself? Another? A group or nation?" She lowered her hands--the left with a piece of loose-leafed paper and the right a textbook parted midway--to her lap, thinking over the question once more.
A minute passed. A hour. Several hours.
The question in Yheli's mind kept her in a constant trance, as if she were a computer processing a high-caliber, large file to display a result.
"...What if there never is a single right person or entity for all time, but rather something that changes as time goes by?" She stopped, inhaled, then exhaled, before her head turned over to her left and she sighed.
"Who knows? It's not a question I'm able to find the answer to now... what matters is confidence in my own decisions and doing what I need to do."
Yheli raised herself up from the couch and collected her materials strew on the couch and floor in an orderly fashion, putting them back inside of her desk and the bookshelf one at a time to ensure no mistakes in placements. She glanced over to her right at the clothes chest, wrapping herself in a scholarly robe, putting on clogs, and grabbing her sword next to her bedside and securing it on her waist. She grabbed a decently sized bag and placed bundles of clothes alongside chef knifes, measuring tools, thief's tools, writing materials, books, and hygienical items neatly placed into the container. A deft hand shut the container closed and Yheli wrapped it up and secured it to her back. A hand slowly raised from her side and up to her ear, as the woman softly and sweetly spoke into it.
"...Leanne? Let's go on an adventure. Together."