A Vision of Fog【Closed】

[Edda]

It was with both alarm and exasperation that Edda greeted a nondescript letter addressed to her only during her second sun in Ishgard. Her father always seemed to know precisely where to find her, though as to how he did was still something of a mystery to her. The missive was brief, and managed only to convey a deep sense of urgency with her father’s cryptic words. Return home at once, it read, signed with his usual easy E, and contained little else. Despite the distance she felt between him, she was not one to willfully disobey him. He was not a man given to hyperbole, and so she figured the situation must be somewhat grave.

 

Edda called Khadai over the linkpearl and bid him to meet her within the city. She had not seen the Xaela much in the last 36 bells, as he was often out exploring and hopefully avoiding trouble. It would be a lie to say she did not worry for him, given his appearance and instinctive nature, but she knew it was not her place to attempt to rein him in.

 

The time and location for their meeting was not concisely set. She bid the man to meet her outside The Vault (though she did not refer to it as such – merely describing it to avoid any potential confusion) and wait by one of the many statues in front of the building. Hopefully his outlandish furs and height would be enough for her to notice him from a distance, and she was proved quite right.

 

Khadai looked terribly out of place amid the sophisticated architecture of the Pillars. His sword and clothing were as conspicuous as ever, and he shifted his weight from one foot to another, as if expecting the need to run from a social encounter at a moment’s notice. Upon seeing her approach, he removed a ribbon that he had tied to one horn that held the linkpearl in place against the appendage and, in a manner that could be almost described as sheepish, shoved it into his tunic.

 

He greeted her with an austere nod, still shuffling his posture. “Edda,” he rumbled an acknowledgement with her name.

 

Edda approached and gave the man a short bow. Though she did not set a time, she had no way of knowing how long he had been waiting for her in clear discomfort. It was only polite. “Khadai. Thank you for meeting me.”

 

“You have need of me?”

 

“Ah, yes. Well, no.” She looked down at her hands and pressed the points of her index fingers together. “I only wanted to tell you that I must… leave. The city. For some time.” She looked back up and frowned at her own disjointed words. “I should not be gone for more than a few suns, and I will return as soon as I am able.”

 

The news seemed to interest him, as his stance straightened considerably and he ceased shifting his weight. “Are we departing immediately?”

 

She hesitated, her face developing a sudden pallor. “W-we…” She bit her lip and looked to the side. Searching for the right words was never an easy task – even moreso than usual with Khadai. “I am sorry, Khadai. I cannot take you with me. Not just yet.”

 

It sounded like a promise when she said it like that. In truth, a part of her very much wanted to take him with her. The landscape of Vylbrand would surely be unlike anything he had seen in his travels thus far, and it was one she was far more qualified to guide him through. Still, her final destination was more than simply Vylbrand, and the thought of her walking through the front gates with the massive, barbarian-looking Au Ra in tow was enough of a deterrence. Her father would surely have a fit.

 

“…I see.” He mulled over the implications. “You will be engaged in… a task that one of my functions is unable to assist in. I understand.” He paused. “Are you certain you will not require defense?”

 

She raised an eyebrow. His usual belligerence concerning his repayment of their bargain was gone, his response unexpectedly understanding given her lack of any explanation. “I am certain. At least, not in the kind you are able to give.” Unless the Au Ra had developed a technique to deflect words with his sword, he would be suitably useless, and Edda chuckled at her own horrible, internal joke.

 

“…I wish to know what you will be involved with, in order to expand my understanding of the continent’s culture. If you are willing to tell.”

 

“I am not certain myself. My father wishes to see me, and it sounds urgent. I do not know why.”

 

Khadai was visibly uncomfortable with the lack of information in her answer, though he did not protest, at least at first. After a long minute of contemplation, he spoke. “I do not believe you incapable,” he began, his speech pattern robotic in a way that said he was choosing his words with very deliberate care. “I am not at ease leaving you alone in a task you do not know. It is… dangerous.”

 

Edda shifted her weight, her eyes widening slightly. “Dangerous how? I am only returning home.”

 

He paused and shook his head. “Apologies. I do not know what circumstances may be considered ‘dangerous’ in this situation as of yet. If you believe there to be no danger, then I will not question such.” He reached into his tunic to pull out the linkpearl, pinched between his gloved thumb and forefinger. “You will… call. If I am to fulfill my duty to you?”

 

It felt such an earnest display from the usually taciturn man that Edda could not help but smile in full. “Yes, I will – I promise. …Oh!” She nearly jumped in surprise, before reaching into a small satchel, searching for something. “I had almost forgotten.”

 

Withdrawn was a small, cornucopia shaped object, made entirely of lightweight wire. It had a small, circular hook at the end, and small indents the size of linkpearls fitted throughout its center. It was simple and unassuming, and the perfect size to fit behind one of Khadai’s horns. She held it out to him. “Try it. It is light, but it should not break easily.”

 

He reached his hand forward and gingerly took the length of wire, as if afraid that it would snap beneath his fingers. He brought the ornament close to his face to inspect it; despite its simplicity, it was elegantly constructed, and seemed durable enough. He placed the linkpearl into one of the slots and fit it behind his left horn, near the front where a steel cap marked the point of the appendage.

 

The connectors at the ends locked together with a soft ‘click,’ and Khadai gave a few rapid shakes and wild nods of his head, as if testing it. “…This is good,” he murmured.

 

Edda clasped her hands together, clearly pleased. Goldsmithing was not something she had been rigorously trained in, but she knew enough to think of herself as self-sufficient. “Is it? Good. If you’ve any issues with it, please let me know, yes?”

 

“I will do so. It will serve its purpose very well.” The corner of his lip curled – not quite a grin, but close enough – and he nodded in approval. It passed quickly, however, and his expression became sober. “I do not like this. Your departure. I recognize that I am not fit to accompany you, and will remain here.”

 

Her expression fell to match Khadai’s. “Forgive me. I cannot… just yet. I will be able to in due time, I am certain. I am sure Roen will be more than happy to assist you with whatever you have need of, and should there be an emergency you may always call me over the pearl.”

 

He nodded, slow and uncertain. “And if you do not return within the appointed time?”

 

“I will contact you should that be the case. And if I am… within reasonable distance, you can come meet me, I suppose…” She trailed off in thought of the logistics of such a prospect. It would be no good if he simply got lost again, her own uncertainty of her return aside.

 

Khadai pursed his lips. “If you give me a name, the stern woman may be able to provide me with direction.”

 

Edda sighed and shook her head. “I am uncertain of when I will be returning, and where from. However, should I be… delayed, I will let you know the location. Perhaps Roen will want to go with you herself.”

 

That did not seem to placate him much, but he nodded his acquiescence regardless. “I will be ready if it comes to that.”

 

She paused for a moment, before narrowing her eyes. It was not an angry glance, but an intensive one borne of curiosity. “Why is it you still call her ‘the stern woman?’”

 

A shrug. “…It fits?”

 

“I suppose, but… I am not stern?” It sounded like a leading question, but her eyes were honest. No one before had told her as such, but Edda feared that was the impression she gave. It was not one she wanted to, though she knew she was meant to.

 

“I do not believe so.” He tilted his head, looking at her curiously.

 

“Ah. Well.” She paused, her eyes looking about nervously. What a silly question. “That is fine, then. I was… only wondering.”

 

“…If our business is concluded, I will be venturing into the field to acclimate myself to the geography. I,” he paused. “Wish you luck in your task.” The phrase itself was normal, but the way it awkwardly crawled out of his lips implied that it was a phrase he’d only learned recently, and did not fully understand.”

 

“O-oh.” Edda gave a crestfallen look to the stone ground, but had the good graces to recover quickly enough. Her desire to delay was great. “Yes, that should be all, Khadai. Thank you.” She smiled lightly, and rolled onto the backs of her heels. “I will depart very soon. I will… be in contact. Do try and stay safe, alright?”

 

Khadai gave her a quiet, apprehensive nod, and he strode off. Edda remained for some time after to watch him leave, before she too began to make her way home. She packed light and moved quickly, uncertain as to what news awaited her at home.

[Nero]

It was some time later when the new linkpearl fixture that Edda had given him did its job well; the stern woman had contacted him, inquiring as to his location so that they could meet in order to discuss the matter of arms and armour. It was convenient timing, as Kasrjin had just returned to the city from an expedition, and he was growing increasingly weary of the suspicious and hostile looks that his tribal furs and wild demeanour earned him.

 

Their rendezvous was almost wordless, and the Xaela had thrust himself past the armoury's double doors quite handily. An austere Elezen attendant stood behind the desk, her face raising with curiosity at the new customer. She gave a short nod to Roen, and resumed reading a leather-bound book behind the desk.

 

His emerald gaze glanced over the pieces with a practised, steady eye. The treated steel and coats of chain contrasted with the hardened leather gambesons and greaves that decorated the racks. Kasrjin could not help but snort at a mannequin displaying a full set of heavy plate, complete with underlying chain shirt. The armour had an absurd number of straps attached to it. "Is such heavy armament required against dragons?" he asked nonchalantly.

 

The stern woman nodded. "Ishgardian knights and dragoons have been fighting the dragons for centuries. I cannot call myself an expert, but it is their way." She looked from one armour to the next then gave a polite but familiar nod to the Elezen armorsmith.

 

A frown split across the Au Ra's face. "I do not have experience on the matter. It seems somewhat inefficient. Dragons are powerful creatures. Do they not make short work of such armor, thick as it is?" He reached out to trace the contours of a set of heavy brigandine.

 

She squinted, as if to eye the armor more closely. "If one is facing off against a true dragon, then nay. I do not think any amount of armor or steel will save you. But aevis and smaller dragonskin, it may save you from a gash to your chest from a tailwhip."

 

Roen's explanation prompted a sage nod from him. "I see. That is sound." He shifted to the other wall of the armory. "...what do you recommend, in this environment?" He glanced towards her, gesturing to the white fur lining around her breastplate. "Your own armaments appear to be heavy, given that it is winter."

 

She glanced up at him. "They can line chain or plate with fur or other insulating material to ward off the cold. Have you been in other forms of armor other than furs and leather?"

 

He turned his attention back to the armor, shaking his head. "No. Metal is a valuable resource, and it fares poorly against the cold. A single...that," he gestured to one of the full suits of armor. "That may become a hundred nails, which in turn may become a dwelling. Creating such armor is wasteful. And Khadai combat doctrine demands mobility in strategy and tactics both. To avoid a wound entirely is better than being struck and surviving."

 

He shifted in his own furred tunic and stepped as if demonstrating the light weight of his own garments. "The black ones in our homeland are often immobile due to heavy armor. That is a weakness we take advantage of with ease."

 

Roen's expression turned pensive, a small furrow to her brow. She flicked a glance at him. "The black ones?"

 

Kasrjin pursed his lips. "I am unsure of their name. They are encased in black armor, and wield weapons that emit flame. Firelances and fireswords. Many of their parties contain....I do not know the word."

 

She seems to ponder that for a moment. Her voice lowered. "Machines?"

 

The Au Ra pursed his lips and nodded. "It is a...thing. Made of black metal, and walks on two legs. This too emits flames." A part of him was quite dissatisfied with his explanation, but he lacked the vocabulary to describe it in any other way.

 

"....Magitek."

 

He shot her a thoughtful glance. "That is the name, then?"

 

She nodded, but avoided his gaze. "You mean Garleans then. Their uniform is usually black. Perhaps with accents of red."

 

Kasrjin nodded."Yes. That is an accurate description. Gar...leans." He rolled the name in his mouth, as if tasting it. "That is the name of our foe." To be honest, he did not think much of remembering the name, as "black ones" was a perfectly adequate label. Still, it would be helpful in conversation if the other people on this continent mentioned them.

 

The stern woman folded her arms. "Then that is yet another thing you share with the people of this realm. Eorzeans also consider Garleans their enemies."

 

His gaze became curious. "Truly? Have the black ones spread so far to the Western continent, as well?"

 

She found herself frowning even though her tone remained neutral. " Aye, they have encroached upon Eorzea as well. The Empire of Garlemald ever seeks to expand. Or as they believe... 'bring order to the primitive people.'" She sighed.

 

"...they do a poor job of it," he observed as he stepped forward to examine one of the gambesons.

 

Roen let out a long exhale, perhaps in relief. She tossed a glance instead to the Elezen armorsmith and tilted her head towards Khadai as if to indicate that he would be who she was interested in fitting today. She then approached the armor models, leaning over slightly to study them. "Did they hunt your people? Or try to assimilate you into their culture?"

 

"They hunt us. They are an ever constant threat. It is enough that we remain hidden from them. They are a mortal sovereignty, and so their threat shall evaporate given time."

 

"...this design. Is this simple to don?" The Xaela gestured towards a particularly elegant looking piece: it was a simple black coat, lined with straps to hold brass-coloured pieces of metal against the shoulders. It looked lightweight enough. The coat was long and made of a layer of resilient leather interwoven with fabrics. The design was elaborate, the plain blue gambeson beneath it appearing to be rather slim beneath the tabard.

 

She glanced up at the Xaela. If she questioned his statement, she did not voice it. She turned her attention to the armor instead and nodded. "There is only one way to find out."

 

"I wish to do so. Are there other pieces to complete it?" A frown. "It seems...incomplete. Aesthetically."

 

Roen nodded. "It makes sense to try something that would allow some freedom of movement and yet Ishgardian made to fit in." She glanced to the armorsmith. "Perhaps if he can try this piece? And others that may match it?"

 

"...what is the appropriate course of action in this circumstance?" He looked confused. "Am I to undress here?" The Elezen approached, her expression one of practiced professionalism. She scanned him up and down as if sizing him up immediately.

 

Roen twisted her lips then glanced about. "Ah. Perhaps up the stairs will give you a bit more privacy."

 

"That is not necessary." With practised ease, he began to strip the heavy furred tunic off of himself, revealing a protective black leather harness beneath. Roen's brows shot up and she immediately backed off as he undressed. She turned and watched the armorsmith walk around the corner to retrieve more pieces of armor.

 

Crossing her arms, Roen glanced back over her shoulder with just a briefest of looks.

 

He'd rapidly managed to strip himself almost completely, his garments scattering the floor beneath him, revealing the smokey gray hue of his skin and the obsidian scales that scattered themselves upon his arm and back. Roen's head turned quickly enough again when he began to shed more clothing. The sounds of rustling and clanking metal eventually became replaced with the pulling of straps and closing of buckles. Eventually, his voice rumbled from behind her. "You may turn."

 

The Elezen armorsmith was however not shy about equipping a customer. She stood by rather proudly.

 

The Xaela was adorned in the jet black coat. Brass plates covered his legs and arms. The coat was decorated with similar brass accents and straps of noble blue crossing the coat. His scattered furs and leathers had been discarded upon the armory floor, and the Xaela stretched, testing the limits of his new garments. Roen glanced over first, almost tentatively, as if to reassure herself that he was armored. This time her auburn eyebrows arched for a different reason.

 

Grey eyes looked over the armor and the paladin nodded. "It... looks good. How does it feel?"

 

"It is...light," he murmured. "I did not expect this." He swung his arms and jostled his legs. "This design is...effective. My range of movement is mostly unrestricted."

 

She walked around him, eyeing the joints of his armor, the as if looking for vulnerabilities as well as the mobility. There was approval in her voice. "I think this would do the job well." The corners of her lips curled upwards slightly. "Countless years fighting against dragons, and forging armor for the same reason... I think they know what they are doing."

 

He bent his elbows, his fingers, and his knees all at once. He reached his arms behind his head, and managed to reach remarkably far before the metal shoulder plates restricted his stretching. The mailed leggings would slow his stride somewhat, but did not feel excessively weighty. As another test, he stepped back and withdrew the blued steel of his sword. Thankfully the armory was roomy and lacked in customers, so the few test swings he did would not threaten any. Satisfied after a few basic manoeuvres, he slipped the sword back into its harness.

 

"Acceptable mobility. I suspect it will be much more difficult to move in snowbanks, however. Weight sufficient. This takes time to put on...but it is not uncomfortable."

 

She nodded, appraising his movements. "We oft travel on mounts that we do not need to climb snowbanks unless we are already in battle."

 

Kasrjin nodded. "But if your mount is disabled, it is your physical ability and the weight of your armament that will determine your speed."

 

Roen nodded. "Indeed. We would be much hampered. Especially in the snow."

 

The Xaela glanced at Roen in an expression that contained the barest hint of sheepishness. "...what amount of currency is required for this transaction?"

 

The paladin's eyes narrowed just slightly at the change in his tone. She glanced to the armorsmith who only answered with a placid grin. She answered her with just a nod, before turning back to Khadai. "I suspect you do not possess any gil, aye?"

 

His face had hardened into a neutral expression...but if one had to say, the way he his emerald eyes flickered with the barest movements would imply that he was embarrassed. "...I do not."

 

The Elezen armorsmith shuffled off as Roen approached the Au Ra. The paladin crossed her arms. "I am sure something can be figured out."

 

Kasrjin's head tilted from one to the other. "...will a transaction of services be sufficient?" His tone did not seem to think so, despite the query.

 

She kept her voice low as if to keep their conversation between them. The armorsmith did not need to hear it. She nodded. "Indeed. That is another thing we should figure out. I know you do not want to owe others. Edda has already offered to provide for anything you need."

 

He shrugged again. "...I am unsure as to what action to take in this circumstance."

 

She shrugged. "I am still unsure what arrangement you have with Edda. If you are comfortable in her paying for this as well, that is up to you." She glanced over her shoulder to the Elezen. "I know the armorsmith somewhat. At least, my knight captain does. If she needs credit now, I can pay for it." Her voice dipped slightly as she shrugged. "I have recently come across some funds." There was a wistfulness to her words. She nodded after some thought. "I will arrange for credit then if the armorsmith will accept. I think she would be open to it."

 

Kasrjin gave a thoughtful pause. "I believe Edda will wish to pay for it. Regardless of protest."

 

"Edda asked you to fight for her?" She flicked a glance at him. "Did she tell you any specifics?" There was a slight frown returning to her expression.

 

He shook his head. "She did not wish to tell me in what capacity I am to fight for her."

 

Roen narrowed her eyes. "Khadai. You were fortunate to have encountered her rather than anyone else. You should not be so free to offer something so blanket and encompassing as doing whatever someone else wish for you to do, for something as simple as gil and guidance. What if she asks you to kill someone?"

 

"Then as per the terms of our agreement, I will do so. To do anything less would be...improper. I lack material possessions or currency to barter with." A shrug. "I myself do not have a firm grasp on this concept of trading services. But it appears to be something that will suffice for a time."

 

Roen exhaled. "You told me I do not trust the people I identify with. There is a good reason for that. Many would take unfair advantage of such a bargain."

 

He frowned. "I do not understand."

 

A pause. "There are guides who would point out the most direct path or the safest course. You need only to pay them gil. Gil that you can obtain in trade for furs or food or other supplies. But if you agree to do whatever they ask, and if they demand such a thing as for you to kill someone...You could end up paying for that with your life in the end. They can ask you steal something. Again, that could end with you in the gaols for a long time. Or worse. There is no equity in that trade. I believe you make your offer in good faith, but not everyone else returns that favor."

 

Kasrjin looked at her quizzically. "....That does not make sense. If I were asked to perform theft, then to be detained would mean that the other party of the transaction would not obtain that which they requested. It is self defeating. If I were asked to slay an individual, then it is in the other party's interests to furnish me with information and resources to do so, thereby reducing the possibility of my demise."

 

Roen shook her head. "They would gain the result they were looking for, but you are the one that they would point to in committing the crime. A foreigner like yourself without any influence or family... they could deny all knowledge of working with you after the fact." She shook her head again, her expression darkening. "It is deceptive, aye. But entirely possible with some people you may come across.”

 

Again, his head tilted in the other direction. "I possess no personal stake in such an act. For what reason would arbitration suspect the tool, rather than the one who wields it?"

 

"If the tool breaths and speaks, you are still punished for your deed." Roen unfolded and folded her arms. "Whether your accomplice is caught or not, to enter into such a bargain is dangerous for you."

 

Kasrjin shrugged. "My calling demands that I accept such dangers. So long as I obtain what is agreed upon, that is satisfactory enough."

 

She exhaled then glanced away. "As you will."

 

The Xaela offered his own quizzical sigh. "I wish to have clarification. For what reason are you concerned about my part in such transactions?"

 

She seemed to be staring at the wooden floorboards a bit longer. It was after a long pause that she answered quietly. "I do not wish to see one such as yourself taken advantage of."

 

Kasrjin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Why?"

 

She still did not meet his gaze, but she shifted her weight slightly. "Because people who have faith in others... are often easily fooled. Deceived. Taken advantage of. It does not sit well with me."

 

His response was almost immediate. "...I do not understand. But I will bear your words in mind."

 

She finally looked back up at him, her eyes narrowed. "What do you not understand? That people of this realm can be biased? Treat you unjustly? That many do look to take advantage of others simply because they can?"

 

His own gaze bore into hers, though he did not seem to be able to formulate a proper response. "...I am aware. That people possess...self-interest. Even so, I do not understand why such a thing has destroyed your faith, Roen."

 

She broke her gaze, grey eyes flitting about the various patterns of the wooden floorboards. The twitch of her lip was the only thing that escaped her stoic mask. "This world is not kind, Khadai. And people within it, even less so." Her voice was low and quiet.

 

"....yet you are willing to provide such aid to one you do not know. One to whom you possess no obligations. One who has repeatedly erred in his understanding of a land in which he does not belong." Kasrjin fixed his stern stare upon the paladin. "I possess no reason to believe this world is any less kinder for it."

 

He paused, suddenly seeming self-aware. "...I wish to test this armor."

 

That statement accompanied an abrupt spin and long strides out the door into the cold.

[Roen]

“I do not want you returning to Camp Dragonhead as of yet. Lord Theron took well to meeting you. Serve him and his family for now. They are close personal friends of mine. I will send word when you are to return to the regiment.

 

-Idristan Tournes”

 

Roen read the letter one more time, as if reading it again would change the wording somehow, or to even glean some new, hidden meaning from them that she had not before. She sighed and folded the missive, tucking it away in her breast pocket. She tugged at the fringes of her long-sleeved shirt and straightened the leather vest that closed tightly around her chest. She leaned on the counter as she continued to wait for the cartographer to return, her fingers drumming restlessly against the polished wood.

 

Was there still discontent amongst the soldiers at Dragonhead after the aevis incident? Did anyone still suspect the Xaela warrior that happened to have arrived the very same sun? Even though Khadai had been an active and essential part in defeating the Dravanian thralls and protecting the aetheryte?

 

Roen knew Idristan Tournes well enough to know that his decisions were solely based on the welfare of Ishgard and its soldiers. So for him to order her to stay away... either he saw her and her affiliation with the Au Ra as a disrupting influence, or somehow he thought it best for her own welfare.

 

“Constantin would appreciate your morals and your passion, I would think,” the knight captain had told her just before he introduced her to Lord Theron, head of a small noble house over a fortnight ago. She had not known then exactly why she was meeting with a midlander Ishgardian noble, but now the reasons were made clear. Constantin Theron and Idristan Tournes had agreed to have her serve as a tutor for the young adopted son of the house, Astidien, in the ways of the sword and shield.

 

It felt strange, being out of her usual armor. But it felt wildly out of place walking around an aristocratic home in full plate just to mentor a youth, and it was even politely suggested by a retainer that she find more fitting clothes for lessons as well as tea. The paladin fidgeted; her footsteps felt lighter and her feet felt more acutely closer to the ground in the leather soled boots. She realized with some chagrin that she had grown accustomed to--and perhaps even preferred--the heavier armor around her frame.

 

The paladin also felt strangely displaced being in the city proper for suns on end. Initially after she had escorted Edda and Khadai across the Gates of Judgement, there had been an unease that preoccupied her mind, as many eyes seemed to look upon the Xaela with suspicion and wariness. But as suns passed without incident, and after fitting Khadai with new Ishgardian armor, Roen’s anxiety for the Au Ra warrior lessened. That was when the paladin found herself starting to get restless.

 

There were still more than a few affairs weighing on Roen's mind. The evidence of the grisly Au Ra killing they had come across... well, she had written to her knight captain on the matter. But she knew she too was a foreigner here and it was not her place to seek out proper justice. And then there was the matter of her missing brother. In Roen's last meeting with Delial and Kage, both seemed intent in their desire not to have the paladin involved.

 

It was something that had begun to have its own weight as more time passed: her refusal to care, her self-imposed exclusion. Deep down, Roen did worry, there was no doubt. But she still did not believe she would bring anything but more despair and ruination if she were to get involved. That had been her recent lessons, had it not? Roen winced slightly at the memory of her final parting words to Delial, when she confessed to killing a good man.

 

It was an admission that still twisted her insides whenever the paladin remembered it. She was just starting to shed some of the suffocating weight of her regret, the darkness that hovered over her for many moons finally allowing small shafts of light to break through. Nero’s face no longer haunted her dreams every night, nor did he occupy her every thought as he had before. Roen was starting to question her true purpose here in Ishgard, that perhaps it was more than just to run away and forget.

 

Or perhaps it was Khadai’s words. Discovering that the Xaela warrior was an idealist, that he held many values that she used to hold dear, it caught her off guard. Even finding one of his own kind speared through the chest and left to freeze in the snow did not deter his fair outlook on the rest of the world. A strange one he, she had yet to meet anyone like him. Efficient to the point of callousness, painfully blunt at times like a hammer on an anvil, and yet with a surprising integrity at his core… he was an enigma that confounded her.

 

So in suddenly finding free time to herself within the city walls, Roen had taken to the task of acclimating Khadai to this unfriendly place as best as she could. He seemed much more at ease in sharing his thoughts when they spoke at the graveyard, and again when she took him to the armory. And both times, he questioned her of who she was and why she had lost her faith in her people.

 

The paladin refused to answer, and he refused to accept. He would learn, as I did, how hard this world can be. How ruthlessly it treats those who want to believe that people are fair and honest, Roen told herself.

 

But as soon as she did so, a cold pang shot through her chest when she realized what she was trying to convince herself to accept. This cruel lesson that she herself had learned, would she just stand by and watch it happen to another? A part of her already knew the answer.

 

"Here you are, Ser Deneith." The announcement broke the paladin out of her reverie as the Elezen cartographer placed a few rolled up leather maps in front of her on the counter. "Drawings of the surrounding areas, with the letters inscribed as you requested."

 

Roen gave the map a once look over, and nodded with satisfaction at seeing the cleanly written letters at the bottom of each region naming the various locations. She had shown Khadai the postings on the board outside the Forgotten Knight. It was at least one sure way he could make some coin while residing in Ishgard. But that was when she learned that he could not read any of the letters on the hunt bills. The renderings of the creatures were easy enough to identify, but he could not read the their names nor the regions where the bill stated the marks to be. These maps would help him scout out the area easier and perhaps learn the regions by their names written on the bottom. He could learn to read the letters on the map and the hunt bills, she could at least aid in that. It was a small step in learning to read, but with practical application.

 

The paladin curled a small satisfactory expression as she nodded to the cartographer and placed a stack of coin on the counter as payment.

 

“The maps should get you to find the roads with ease, and some landmarks as well.” The Elezen mapmaker smiled at her. “Although I thought you were quite familiar with the area already.”

 

“Ah, these are not for me.” Roen shook her head as she rolled up the maps and tucked them into her satchel. “But I am certain it will be well appreciated.”

 

Khadai might not even need the maps at this point, for all she knew. He had been surveying the lands outside the Gates for a few suns already. But it was an idea that had seeded itself in Roen’s mind and she wanted to see it through. She could see that he still felt very much a stranger here, despite the native armor that he now wore. His rigid and silent demeanor when she and the Xaela warrior had accidentally come upon Ser Heuloix and Lady Dufresne was clear evidence that his unfamiliarity with social etiquette made him quite uncomfortable. It was after that meeting that Roen thought perhaps in giving him some freedom to exert himself outside the walls and earn coin, that some of his unease would be lessened. The paladin patted the contents of her satchel idly as she stepped out of the store and into the snow.

 

"It is a thing. This thing will affect… a process. It is a… solution? It is meant to prevent a decay. Reverse it."

 

That was the best that Khadai could do to describe this object that he had come to Eorzea to find. Even as awkward as he was in conversing with the two Elezens, he had answered their questions as truthfully as he was able. Neither Ser Heuloix nor his lady friend were able to glean any idea as to what this object may be, but their eagerness to help was evident. And now Roen had some vague idea of what his assignment was as well. To prevent a regression of sorts amongst his people.

 

"It seems… mayhaps you have found another reason to lift your shield after all, mm?"

 

Roen still recalled Ser Heuloix’s words as he smiled at her, a hint of amusement in his eyes. The Duskwight knight from the Cathedral assumed she was starting to find her convictions again.

 

The paladin had said nothing then, and shook her head even now at the memory. She was just aiding a lost stranger in a foreign land. It was easier to aid someone she did not know, rather than risk heartache in failing someone she cared for deeply. She told herself this, and a part of her almost believed it.

 

Letting out a quick exhale to dismiss her restlessness, Roen squinted up at the snowfall and the grey skies above. She was not due at Theron manor again for a few suns, so she would take the opportunity to don her usual armor and head out toward the Convictory. She hoped to find some ease in focusing her thoughts and energy elsewhere outside the walls, and perhaps even deliver a map or two.

[Nero]

The vindthurs made one final roar of pain before the edge of blued steel flashed once across the voidsent's throat. A crimson cascade sprayed from the wound with an instantaneous, guttural spurt, smearing the snow around the Xaela's feet in gore.

 

He let out an exhale and let the sword in his hands go slack, his lungs burning from the exertion and the sting of the Highlands' frigid air. Kasrjin's breathing came in onerous, heavy pants. He felt a layer of sweat coating his skin, cooled by the occasional sharp breeze that brought equal parts relief discomfort. The tip of his blade made a light crunch as it fell upon the snow, suddenly feeling too heavy to wield. His gauntlets trembled ever so slightly against the wrapped leather handle of the sword. As the ogre gurgled, its great mass toppled into the snow, and almost immediately the azure corpse of the voidsent began to be peppered by argent flakes that drifted from the sky.

 

Not far behind the Au Ra lay another dismembered ogre, its wounds scattering its form in a similar fashion. Kasrjin allowed his legs to go slack, and he took in controlled, measured breaths to restore his stamina from the extended battle. His sable hair, tied into a rough ponytail, was unkempt and tousled from the motion. A small trickle of blood crept down the corner of his lips from when a tail swing had caught the end of his jaw. He adjusted his position, laying the sword down beside him and sitting down in the snow that stuck to the black and gold tabard he wore over his Ishgardian armour, legs crossed and hands upon his knees.

 

Now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade away from him, the thoughts of combat had been replaced with the familiar sensations of isolation and...something else.

 

His hands still quivered in the gauntlets, and it was not because of the battle.

 

Kasrjin's hunt had brought him to the far corners of the Highlands, among the blasted field of a great conflict long past. The frozen corpses of knights and dragons were scattered amidst rubble and ordinance. Flags had stiffened, devoid of whatever glory they were meant to bring, fluttering forlornly in the snow. Weapons and cadavers alike had been claimed by the frost, abandoned atop the cliffs. Broken cannons lay crumbled, the heads and wings of greater dragons reaching skyward in an eternal roar. Maroon patterns caked the icy stone of the battlefield. Spears and arrows stood as monuments to the strife.

 

Inhale.

 

Exhale.

 

He could feel his breath waver with the exhale, and he did his best to ignore it.

 

A hand reached to one of the pouches in his belt, grasping the polished surface of the runestone. No warmth came.

 

After some time, Kasrjin could feel the air's chill begin to creep upon his heated skin, and he stood up and stepped over to the corpse of the ogre. He pulled a strap away from a small leather sheath that lay at his side, and pulled from it a steel hatchet he had recently purchased with his new funds. From another sheath he withdrew the tiger tooth knife, its edge and point still gleaming amidst the snow, and the Xaela set to work, solemnly swinging the hatchet to hack the horns off of his deceased foe.

 

A part of him hoped for the work to occupy the confines of his mind and drive away the demons of solitude. It was almost desperate for it, but every other swing brought a different face to mind, and another reminder...that he was not where he should be. Additional blood occasionally oozed from the wound as the hatchet bit deep into the ogre's leathery skin to reach the hardened horns. Kasrjin grew steadily aware of the increasing force with which the hatchet impacted against the horns. His fingers would tense and and relax in a frustrating dance, the strength behind the swings growing in equal measure to the ghosts of doubt and loneliness that ate away at his mind.

 

And then he felt it.

 

The Au Ra had raised the hatchet in the air when it froze. His heart seemed to pause in its beat, and though it was only for a single, instantaneous flash of brilliance, a myriad pattern of indescribable colours and tones rang in his ears and swept across his vision. The Correspondence was unmistakeable in its signature, and the abruptness of the pulse seemed to send Kasrjin into shock. It was undoubtedly familiar...but also not so. It was cold, and detached. Stiff and rigid. All at once, a reminder of what should have been, and a reminder of what could not be. It was a friendly warning and a hostile lesson and a bitter reprimand, all at once, crashing through his mind. His teeth grit together as the pulse shot past him and evaporated, as quickly as it had come.

 

The hatchet fell from his hands as he nearly collapsed off to his knees, the brass-coloured plates of his sabatons crashing into the snow. He allowed his breath to escape from him in unsteady, trembling rhythms. He ignored the brisk sensation of cold metal on his skin as his left hand held his head, covering his eyes, his lips shaking as an unnatural sounding laugh shivered its way out of his lungs. It spilled from him in uncontrolled waves. His right arm instinctively reached out to keep him from burying his face into the snow, burying himself in this foreign land so far removed from comfort and contentment. The bellowing that he forced out of his lungs shivered and shuddered, an expression of everything he had felt.

 

What he was looking for was present. Somewhere. Something to halt a regression. And yet that knowledge brought no relief.

 

So he laughed.

 

At fear and faith, he laughed.

 

At purpose and privilege, he laughed.

 

At duty and desire, he laughed.

 

A single, clear bead of his amusement fell and was claimed by the snow.

 

The silver wire fixed to his horn chimed. A familiar, feminine voice emitted softly from the pearl within its indentation.

 

"Khadai. I have something for you. If you are near Falcon's Nest, can you meet me there?"

 

It was the stern woman, Roen.

 

The Xaela recovered his composure remarkably quickly, his display of turmoil being placed beneath a glassy, placid expression of tranquillity with machine-like efficiency.

 

He stood from the snow, hand placed against the linkpearl fixture, Kasrjin's voice rumbling from his lungs where the unnatural laughter had been.

 

"Yes," was all he said.

 

Inhale.

 

Exhale.

 

He planted a foot firmly against the dead ogre's skull, and the hatchet was raised into the air once again.

[Roen]

Roen had called Khadai on their linkpearl to meet her at the Falcon’s Nest. Her tone and the nature of her request lacked urgency, and even seemed cordial, and the Xaela had agreed fairly readily. The biting chill of the Western Highlands was as astringent as ever, and though the Twelve had seen fit to spare the Highlands of snow, the sharp gales brought by the cold were as harsh as they ever were.

 

The kitchens of the Falcon’s Nest compound was often open to adventurers, a beacon of warmth and shelter, and it was there that the paladin sought refuge from the climate. Roen pushed open the double doors to the kitchen with a rough shove, shaking off the sheet of snow from her armour. Khadai was, as ever, remarkably easy to spot; the Xaela had his hands contemplatively folded together, elbows upon the table, his chin resting on the brass-coloured fixtures of his gauntlets. A neat stack of hunt bills lay next to him, weighted down on the table with a small but heavy looking purse, and several other purses were spread out in front of him in a neat, symmetrical fashion. A cleaned plate, devoid of crumbs, and a mug of hot liquid lay emitting wisps of steam next to him as he shuffled the purses and coins about in a seemingly random fashion.

 

A momentary sense of satisfaction settled upon the paladin when she spotted the purses and the bills.

 

"You have been productive." When she was answered with a mere grunt, she almost smiled.

 

"Well, I had thought to give you something but..." She approached him as her attention turned to the satchel hanging by her side, her hands fishing for the maps. “You seem to have done well without any aid."

 

"The beasts are plentiful. And aggressive. They came to me more often than not, thus I was not required to hunt for them." Khadai sighed. "The blizzard would have made tracking difficult, in any case."

 

The warrior glanced at her. "Are you well?" The words were spoken awkwardly.

 

Roen paused as she noted his rather clumsy but earnest effort in practicing the norms of social etiquette. It was as if he had never said those words with the sole intent of demonstrating courtesy. It was odd, but also somewhat heartening to hear.

 

"Well enough," she said absently as she set her sword and shield aside, taking a seat next to him. But spotting the deep frown that still creased the Xaela’s expression, she canted her head. "You do not seem pleased for all the hunts and coins you have gathered."

 

Khadai waved a hand at the purses in front of him. "I am not informed as to the denominations of this currency. It is… difficult to gauge success."

 

"Ah." Roen nodded. "I can assist in that. If you wish."

 

The warrior waved an idle hand again, sliding the pouches over to her. "You are welcome to it." With that, he pulled out an immaculate knife from his belt--an ivory handled blade polished to a gleam, fastened around a thick and razor sharp length of tooth or bone. From beneath the table he withdrew a length of rust-red material--a mylodon horn--and applied the knife to it.

 

The paladin watched him from the corner of her eye as she gathered the purses, fishing out and stacking the like coins upon the table. "The currency is gil here. And different pieces hold different values..." She arranged the coins in a neat row from higher to lower values. "There is also currency called Allagan pieces, made of different metals, and they too are all worth different value. Although I suppose what you really want to learn are the values of goods you would want to exchange them for."

 

Khadai’s face twisted in some frustration as the edge of the knife did little to chip at the resilient horn. He barely afforded a glance at the display of stacked gil. "I am only concerned with food and lodging," he grunted. "I do not have particular need of anything else at the moment, and so the rest will be saved."

 

Roen eyed him a moment longer, noting his disinterest before reaching into her satchel. "Oh, I brought something for you." She slid a few rolled up leather scrolls towards him on the table. She opened one to reveal a map that had large bold letters at the bottom. "These are rough maps of the surrounding areas. And the written word at the bottom is the name of the region." She tapped her finger over the lettering. “The Coerthas Western Highlands. This is where we are now.”

 

The Xaela took the parchment from her, his lethargic demeanor seemingly vanishing as he examined the topography carefully.

 

"I thought it might help should you want to explore other regions." She shrugged. "I have not been to them, myself. My patrols did not take me far beyond Coerthas."

 

"Are you a knight?" The Au Ra asked suddenly, looking up from the map.

 

The blunt question made her pause. "A knight," she echoed quietly. "There are many definitions that are put to that title."

 

"You are not a combatant in service to this city? Ishgard?"

 

“Some may assume that of me because I bear a shield and I am trained to be one.” Roen shifted slightly in her seat. Being addressed with the title of ‘Ser’ never quite sat well with her after she left the service of the Sultana. In her heart, she felt that such titles were reserved for those who swore unbending fealty to one who was able to bequeath such a title. “A title of a Knight is one bestowed upon those who take up the oath to protect who or what they serve. At least, in my opinion."

 

"I am no Ishgardian Knight,” she added after a pause. “Unlike Ser Heuloix, who you met a few suns past."

 

Khadai looked at her with a puzzled expression. "I had intended to ask." There was an awkward pause. "Are you female?"

 

Roen blinked slowly, twice. There was an odd and slow quirk to her brows as if she was trying to gauge his expression. "I am," she finally answered, her tone slightly incredulous. "Is that not obvious?"

 

The Au Ra looked truly confused. “But you fight. I do not understand. You appear female. Others appear female and fight as well. You are…” He paused, as if to select his words. "Permitted. To fight?"

 

"No one permits me to fight.” The paladin answered quickly. “I chose this profession. Do your people not allow females to fight?"

 

"Permission is irrelevant. Females do not fight." Khadai paused then corrected himself. "Our females do not fight. Why did you choose?" When the Xaela looked to her for an answer, he was only met with a bewildered silence. "Is such a… choice… accepted here?"

 

It was a moment before Roen was able to formulate an answer. Studying his expression and tone, as well as reminding herself what she had come to learn of the Au Ra warrior, the paladin was able to dismiss whatever indignation that begged to rise at his skewed logic. "You can choose your profession. I wanted to take up the sword and shield for as long as I could remember."

 

Roen watched him carefully as he looked away, brow furrowed in concentration as if he was trying to fully comprehend her answer. She crossed her arms, now honestly curious. "Where you come from, do no females want to try and fight? Take up arms?"

 

"They do not. Why should they desire to do so?"

 

"Why should they not? There is a sense of fulfillment in being able to protect others when it is needed."

 

"Women do not choose to protect. It is not their place."

 

Roen canted her head. The concept of choice just seemed foreign to the Au Ra. She redirected her line of questioning. "Why did you choose to become trained in the martial arts?"

 

Khadai wrinkled his nose at her query. "I do not understand the question."

 

The paladin frowned. "Surely, you had reasons why you took the sword. Why should a female not have those same reasons?"

 

"Reason?" He blinked. "I do not have a reason. This is who I am. Khadai."

 

Roen stared at him for a moment longer, lips parted in confusion. "So you were just born to be a warrior?" She gestured with a sweep of her hand toward him. "With your people, males are the only ones allowed the privilege to take up arms?"

 

“It is not a privilege. It is a responsibility."

 

"I understand the need... the weight of responsibility that is taken up by those who choose this path." She sighed. "But it is still a choice, to accept it. What if I also saw fit to take on such a task for myself? Should I not do so, because I was born a female?"

 

Khadai did not answer right away, his dark brow furrowed in thought. He finally rose from his seat and gave her a curt nod. “Stand.”

 

Roen blinked but complied, rising from her seat. She only stiffened slightly when he closed the distance between them with a single stride, standing close to her, his height allowing him to loom over her.

 

"Take your sword," he rumbled.

 

Roen felt no alarm, regarding the warrior curiously. She reached to her side to draw her sword from its sheath. Then she watched as Khadai carefully pinched the flat of her blade between his thumb and forefinger and placed it against the heavy brass-colored shoulderguard of his armor.

 

"The higher the point of impact, the weaker your strike will be,” the Xaela said matter-of-factly as he then directed the blade and pointed it against his chest. "A thrust upward requires more force to be effective. and you fight against the weight of your blade.”

 

The warrior turned the blade to its side, such that it was adjacent to his abdomen in the fashion of a slash. "A swing with limited angles of effective attack is predictable."

 

"You are telling me all of your tactical advantages." Roen frowned as she continue to watch him maneuver her weapon.

 

"I am not." His gaze bore into her. "I am telling you of your disadvantages. Take your shield.”

 

The paladin narrowed her eyes. As she equipped her shield onto her arm, she watched him walk around her, standing just behind to her left side.

 

"Raise your shield to cover my torso."

 

Roen looked over her shoulder, her expression was already darkening. "Again, more disadvantages due to my shorter height?"

 

Khadai took firm hold of her arm and raised the shield to cover his chest. The stance was awkward, as her hand was positioned to reach towards his shoulder, leaving her almost entirely uncovered. "A Xaela woman would never desire to be Khadai. She understands that to be placed within a role not of her place is to jeopardize all others who adopt that role,” he rumbled without any arrogance in his voice.

 

He did not seem to change his tone when Roen jerked her arm away from his grasp. "You possess inherent disadvantages that make you less effective and less efficient as a combatant in the battlefield. Perhaps your desire to fight fuels your choice. But so too does it place others who may rely on you in danger due to factors outside of your control."

 

Khadai gestured to some Elezen knights who had just strode out the door. "If you were called upon to lend your shield to defend those knights, would you be able to? Would you be able to bear your shield in formation with them? Drag the wounded off the battlefield?"

 

Roen narrowed her eyes. "So your people presume to judge everyone's worth and job based simply on how they are born? Their gender? Their size?" She glanced to the door where they knights had left. "I have fought alongside them against aevis and other creatures that would threaten those who cannot defend themselves. Elezen and Hyurs have fought next to each other throughout history. Success in battle takes more than just brute strength and size. It takes will and commitment. Strategy and training. The fact that Eorzea still remain free should stand as a testament of that. Races come in all sorts and sizes here."

 

"Worth is irrelevant.” The Xaela would not be convinced. “All have worth. All have value. All have function. Would you use your sword to cut lumber? Would you use your shield to dig dirt? It is certainly possible to do these things. It is not effective, practical, or efficient. These items have no place in performing such functions outside of what they are intended for, despite what they may be used for. To accept otherwise is to condemn oneself to inadequacy."

 

Roen scowled. "Some people see freedom of choice as far more valuable to uphold than perfect efficiency."

 

"Is such freedom so valuable if it jeopardizes those you claim to wish to defend?"

 

"No one comes into this world with their path already predetermined." The paladin found her fists tightly closed by her side. "For better for worse, people should get to choose what they want to do. You cannot choose for others."

 

Khadai did not seem to notice her ire. "That does explain why your people are all so backwards," he mused, the corner of his lip curling in amusement.

 

Roen sheathed her sword and set her shield down, her frown still lingering. "It is not backwards to give people freedom to choose what they want to pursue."

 

The warrior just shrugged. "As you say."

 

The paladin exhaled, shaking off her irritation. "You do not want anything else for yourself? You were born Khadai, so this is what you knew you would become? A warrior? Nothing else?"

 

He gave her an odd look. "Why should I desire to be anything else? Should a fish desire wings? Should trees desire legs to move? To attempt to defy role and nature is to willingly invite misery. If I am not Khadai, who shall be? Who shall defend my brothers and my people? Who is more capable than I?"

 

"But you are not a fish. You are not a tree." She crossed her arms, exasperated. "You are you a person, with your own will to choose who you are, what you do. Are all warriors named Khadai? Are you all deemed as one? Fighters?"

 

"We are Khadai. It is all we are. Those called upon to defend."

 

"Just because you were born tall, strong, and capable, you must fight." She regarded him with a hint of sympathy. "If this is what you always had the inclination for, then you are lucky that this is the role that fits you."

 

His austere gaze faltered then, and the Xaela turned his head away from her. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "I dislike violence," his voice dipped with that admittance. But there was only a short pause before he added, "I dislike harm upon my people more."

 

Roen stared at him, speechless. That was the last thing she had expected he would say. Not after the manner in which she had first found him. She dropped her arms to her side and her voice softened. "Then your people are lucky to have you to take up such a weight upon your shoulders. Whether it was your choice or not."

 

When Khadai remained silent with his expression somewhat distant, Roen leaned one hand on the table, peering up at him curiously. "Why did they send you? And alone?"

 

“It was necessary," the Au Ra said evasively.

 

"Your people seem to hold adequacy and efficiency above all. At least, from your descriptions." She regarded him intently. "Whatever it is you were sent for... I am not convinced sending you alone was the best choice."

 

"It was… not optimal. But there were extenuating circumstances."

 

"Did you volunteer?"

 

"It was necessary," he repeated neutrally.

 

Roen studied the warrior’s expression for a moment longer before she let it go. "As you say." It was the first time he had not answered all her questions with immediate forthrightness. She was not sure if she was glad that he was not as guileless as he seemed so far. "But you will need more information if you are to succeed in finding this thing you seek."

 

The paladin crossed her arms and lowered her gaze. "From what little you described, I cannot fathom what it could be but... some scholars may know." She shrugged. "Then you can return to your people and put this backwards society behind you."

 

Khadai turned away as well. "I will find it. In time. It would be best to be certain that it is what I seek, rather than returning with an incorrect or incomplete objective."

 

"Will you know when you find it? Or see it?"

 

“I believe so. It will be distinct. It is part of the reason I was sent. I am capable of identifying it."

 

"I wish you success in finding whatever it is you are searching for.” Roen wondered at the wistfulness she heard in her own voice. Perhaps she envied him for his unwavering faith that he would know his purpose upon discovering it.

 

Khadai turned to her, and his low rumble softened slightly. “I am grateful for your assistance, regardless."

 

The paladin did not meet his gaze, instead glanced to the far corner of the room, shaking off sudden melancholy that threatened to rise. "Well. As I said, I do not like people being taken advantage of. And I sympathize with foreigners." She shrugged nonchalantly, although a frown had darkened her expression. "Let me know if I am needed."

 

Khadai’s viridian gaze looked upon her intently. “You seem troubled."

 

"Troubled?" Roen pulled her lips in a weak attempt to look placid. "It is not anything you need to be concerned with."

 

"You have offered me assistance.” The Au Ra dipped his head, still studying her. “I wish to offer the same."

 

There was a twitch to her lips followed by a long bout of silence before the paladin spoke again. "Your words at the graveyard and the armory,” she whispered hoarsely. "They have stayed with me." She frowned and clamped her lips shut, regretting even having said that much. She suddenly turned and gathered her sword and shield, speaking now without meeting his gaze. "And you need not offer equitable trade. The aid I offer is because I want to. I do not expect something in return."

 

"I see."

 

Roen hooked her sword back onto her belt and hung the shield on her back. "You would do well to save your earnings. If you need someone to hold your funds, I am certain Edda can arrange one for you. I should get going." Her tone had hardened with a businesslike edge. The paladin found herself glancing toward the door, eager to leave suddenly. "Do look over those maps and the letters there. You will come to recognize them easily enough in time."

 

That was when Khadai raised a hand to stop her movement by placing it against her shoulder. It was unexpected. "You are ill at ease." His rough voice held the barest tinge of concern.

 

Roen blinked, staring at his breastplate for a moment. When she finally glanced up at him, she gave him a sad smile. "And what if I was?"

 

"Come with me."

 

When the two stepped out through the double doors, the blizzard had settled, giving way to a gray sky and a gentle snowfall. Roen followed him out in silence, and stood still in the middle of the courtyard as the warrior circled her left and right for sometime, before he drew his giant sword.

 

"It is said that two individuals cannot understand one another without sharing action." Khadai heaved the sword over his shoulder confidently. "I wish to understand you. And to grant you an understanding of myself. Perhaps in doing so… you may gain a measure of peace."

 

He stood a few yalms away from her in the courtyard, the cold winds tossing his long raven forelocks over his eyes. "We shall spar."

 

The paladin slowly canted her head, the warm glow from the nearby windows giving an odd light to her eyes. She drew her shield then her sword. "If you wish," she answered quietly. She appraised him up and down and her lips took on a slight curl. She drew her sword and brought the shield in front of her.

 

[align=center]---[/align]

 

A few Ishgardian Knights had given them more than a passing glance as they walked by, their attention drawn to the ringing sounds of blade meeting blade that echoed into the darkening skies. Some merchants paused to watch the taller form of the armored Au Ra swing and spin his greatsword as he assailed the shorter Hyur woman; a couple of them leaned over to whisper to each other ear as the paladin continued to deflect his strikes with her shield, using her size to evade and move in for a counter maneuver.

 

The exertion and brisk winter air had both of them breathing heavily. The flat of the Xaela’s greatsword was pinned against the surface of the paladin’s shield, the crossguard of the large blade having blocked her own retaliatory strike. Caught in a limbo of attack and defense, their waltz of clashing steel had briefly ceased.

 

And then something happened that Roen did not expect. Khadai grinned. It was not the small lip curl of vague amusement, nor the typical stern frown he usually wore. His piercing emerald eyes made contact with hers, and his lips softened and parted ever so slightly upward into a small but noticeable smile, even as he breathed. Her own muscles released its tension in response. It was impossible to tell how long they had been sparring, the snow continued to fall around them, cooling hot skin and burning muscles.

 

After a pause, the warrior stepped back, and heaved the sword over his shoulder again. “You are a skilled combatant," he mused.

 

“I had seen your skills at Dragonhead," Roen eased in her own stance, sheathing her weapon. "You wield that sword with surprising deftness and speed."

 

"Has your mind cleared?" he asked as his long blade slipped into its sheath behind his back. ”There are few cures more wholesome than exercise."

 

"Mm," she hummed. "You surprise me, Khadai. Just when I think your ways and mine cannot meet in the middle... you prove me wrong."

 

"There are things I may never understand. But ultimately..." The Au Ra pursed his lips. "These are things that do not matter. You are deft with your shield." He crossed his arms in contemplation. "Mayhap when used in combination with my sword, a potent pair we would make on the battlefield."

 

"Despite your height," Khadai added after a pause. His lips were curled upward that Roen even suspected he was actually teasing, though his tone was humorously deadpan.

 

The paladin narrowed her eyes at him, but curled a wry grin. "I try to make up for it however I can. Somehow, I have survived thus far."

 

In three long strides, Khadai came to stand just before her. His eyes seemed to be gauging her height as he looked down to her. “It is… endearing," he rumbled, folding his arms.

 

Roen blinked, giving the warrior an odd look. She straightened her expression, remembering herself. "Well... that is..." she started, then trailed off. Roen drew a sharp breath in and turned her attention to the door leading into the kitchens. "Do take care and not leave your coins just laying about."

 

He said nothing, only watched her oddly.

 

"I should go," she muttered, and began to dust off more snow from her armor and murmured under her breath.

 

"I will do so.” Khadai frowned. “With the blizzard clear, there is opportunity to hunt." He turned from her to face toward the kitchens, but paused.

 

“Be well," the Au Ra said somewhat awkwardly and gave her a nod, before walking off to retrieve his things.

 

Just when I think there is no middle ground…

 

The paladin stared at his retreating form until he disappeared through the doors, before she turned and marched away into the night.

[Edda]

There was little doubt, to Edda, of her growing lack of wonderment in Ishgard. What was once an inhospitable but fascinating land now seemed more of a second cage than anything else, and upon her return to the city, the young woman swore to never step foot outside once more unless absolutely necessary. It was so very cold, and in this state, returning in such a manner, what cause would there be? Surely what business she would have here, however minimal, could be conducted indoors, where no one would interfere, or care.

 

And so she called Khadai to her, hastily, as it were, as if it were some great emergency. James was out, and she had much on her mind. This changed things. Everything looked different to her now, and perhaps seeing the Xaela again would force her to decide just what it is she wanted. She needed to know, and so too did Khadai. It was his every right.

 

Yet that man returned, and with him every doubt she carried in her heart. There would be no peace with him present, and so Edda bid Khadai to leave, once more unsure. She felt cruel in doing so, but the vision in which she saw him fulfilling her one desire had begun to fade and tear at the seams, and as he left she felt her breath freeze in her chest. It was far too soon, now, for her to ask of him such a deed. Her father had given her a task, and she would not run from it yet.

 

While the original purpose Khadai would fill was but a shadow of a memory, she still had a need of him. It was too soon for her to arouse suspicion, and yet too soon for anything to go awry. She steeled herself, as she called him over the linkpearl once more. It had been some time since they last spoke, and she half expected him to have changed his attitude towards her completely. She would not be able to blame him, for that.

 

He agreed, and Edda awaited the man at the Forgotten Knight, in front of the large hearth in the center room. It was mid-morning, and so the dining area was not as busy as it usually was. Here they would be undisturbed, or so she hoped. She carried with her a small parcel, easily opened. If he was cross with her it would be a useless gesture, but still she felt the need to try.

 

He nearly surprised her, as she waited. Despite his size he made little noise as he descended the stairs and made his way to her, but his stature and the feel of his stare was noticeable enough. “We must speak.” The timbre of his voice was unmistakable.

 

Edda turned to face him and smiled with some apprehension. He had proven himself to be a direct and unsubtle man, but such an approach from him was a new one. She tilted her head. “Is there something on your mind?”

 

“We did not finish our previous discussion. You must define the terms of our agreement, and the parameters in which I am to fight for you.” His trademark frown creased his face, punctuating the taciturn and direct statement.

 

“Very well.” She chuckled lightly. Her surprise at receiving orders from the Au Ra had already begun to subside. “Though I am loathe to admit it, it seems I have been put in quite a… precarious position.” She turned to look back into the fire and frowned. “I will be requiring your protection, though it would be less of a call to arms for you, and more of a request of constant vigilance. It is fine if you do not agree.” It may be better if you do not, she felt like saying, but it would only serve to confuse. The apprehension stayed with her. It felt as if she would be fine for the rest of her life, and as if she would be killed tomorrow.

 

Khadai nodded, a look of relief crossing his features. It was good that she said no more. “My agreement is irrelevant. If that is to be my function, then I will fulfill it. Am I to accompany you at all times?” His query was a straightforward one, devoid of any resentment she would expect from nearly anyone.

 

Edda looked at him from the side, gauging him quietly. “That would be expected of you, yes. Yet I am not so cruel as to request that of you. You came here for your own purpose, not to sit at my feet like a dog.” Her tone sounded far more acerbic than she liked, and she gave the man a cross look. “But for the sake of my own appearances, I would ask that you greet me in the mornings and…

 

“…Perhaps stand watch, during the night,” she said slowly. It sounded far worse now that it had been put into words. “But only if I request it. It will rarely occur, if ever,” she added hastily. Even now she could not imagine a circumstance where she would ask him for such a thing. The idea did not seem to suit either of their characters.

 

“Will you be staying at the home we met in prior?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He nodded. “I will do this, then.”

 

His lack of protest surprised her. Of all the outcomes she might have expected, this felt by far the most unlikely. “I… see. Most suns I will send you away if I’ve no need of you, so you will be free to pursue whatever it is you wish during such times, but,” she paused, and her arms tightened around the parcel she held at her chest. “On such suns, perhaps if you have nothing planned…” She trailed off.

 

He tilted his head. Dealing with her seemed quite a chore. “Call for me when you wish for my accompaniment, and I will come.”

 

“R-right.” Edda pursed her lips, then turned to him suddenly. She took a step forward and held out the parcel to him. “These are for you. Perhaps when there is nothing to do, we can, um.” She cut herself off and looked to the ceiling, looking for the right word. “Learn, I suppose.”

 

Khadai stared at the parcel curiously before gingerly taking them into his gauntleted hands, and glanced into the opening. Inside was a collection of slim books, all varying sizes, clearly meant for children – or at least for children with parents wealthy enough to afford them an education.

 

“These are… books,” he murmured, more to himself than to Edda. He twisted and turned the parcel in his hands, his expression puzzled. “This will… teach me the Continent’s written word?”

 

She nodded. “Yes, in theory. All it takes is practice and a basic foundation, and it is simple enough.” She smiled and shifted her weight. What an awkward feeling. She had never taught anyone a thing before, with no experience or known ability to, yet the urge was there. “I am more than happy to help you get started, though I imagine you will get a handle on it quite quickly, constantly exposed to our words as you are.”

 

He returned her nod with one of his own. “If you are certain, then I accept. I have taken on the profession of hunting.” He raised a hand to pat a set of mylodon horns hanging from a large hook attached to his belt. “This profession will occupy much of my time… but when you call, I will answer.”

 

“Thank you, Khadai. Truly.” She looked up at Khadai and examined him from head to toe, smiling softly. There was a small bout of silence, a bit awkward, but it passed quickly enough. Eventually, she shook her head. “I do not mean to keep you. Go,” she motioned idly with her hand. “Resume whatever it is you were doing. Please call me if you have need of anything.”

 

He tilted his head in the other direction. “If you are willing, I do have need of your knowledge at the moment.”

 

Her eyes widened in surprise. That had been unexpected. Her heart skipped a beat. “Of- of course. What is it?”

 

The Xaela reached behind him and pulled out a fairly sizeable leather purse, filled with gil. He held the purse out in both hands towards her. “I do not know how to manage this Continent’s currency. The stern woman offered such guidance, but now I find such a thing to be a burden to carry, given that I do not know how to exchange it properly. For now, I ask that you keep track of my currencies in my stead, and store it for me in a safe location.”

 

Edda frowned at the sack of gil and took it, weighing it in her arms gingerly. Here was a request she was perfectly confident in being able to fulfill, but for some reason it brought her little joy. “Do you not use it to buy food or drink? On a regular basis?”

 

“I do. I have discerned the number of currency needed, and have appropriated the correct amount.” He gestured to the purse. “This is excess that I cannot carry without difficulty.”

 

She chuckled softly and brought the gil purse close to her chest. “I will do so, then. It will be kept safe and secure, and I shall keep track of the amount as well.” She paused. “You have done well for yourself.”

 

He shrugged. “Without knowing the value, I cannot gauge my own success in this endeavor.”

 

“Be that as it may, a small success is still success.”

 

“It is simple, straightforward work, and though I am no hunter, I am capable of using my skills as required.”

 

Edda allowed his words to sink in for a moment, her expression sobering. “…Are you content?”

 

“I do not understand the meaning behind  your question.”

 

She sighed. Of course he would not. She was not, would never be, the one to ask such a thing. “Never mind. It was a silly question.”

 

Khadai glanced at her quizzically but did not press the issue. “Call when I am required, and I will come to your side.” His black tabard swept along his legs and close to the floor as he turned and strode out of the establishment.

[Roen]

Roen grunted as she lifted the chocobo harness, unhooking it from the wagon frame and unhitching the bird. The brown-feathered chocobo scratched at the icy ground, lowering its head to rub its beak against one of its legs. The paladin narrowed her eyes as she spied the bird favoring that limb, one of the talons curled in oddly. When she lowered herself to her knees for an inspection, she noticed a small scratch near one of its nails.

 

“You cannot travel like this, little one,” she murmured as she gently tended to the chocobo’s leg. But both her words and the bird’s subsequent coo were drowned out by a high pitched whistle of the winds that were gaining in strength with each bell. The paladin got back to her feet and studied the darkening skies, her auburn forelocks tossed before her eyes.

 

The storm will hit before I am even a malm from here, Roen thought. The other sellswords who were supposed to accompany her had already left, not wanting to be stranded in the northern Highlands during a blizzard. The mill offered sanctuary in a form of a stable and a cellar, constructed sturdy enough to ride out most blizzards. But aside from walls and some firewood, it offered little in the ways of amenities.

 

Still, the paladin had waited. She had called Khadai on the linkpearl to come join her if he was in the area, in hopes of orienting him to the ways of caravan escorts. He had already been doing well in his hunts as far as she could tell, and his face must have become somewhat familiar with those at the Forgotten Knight that rewarded him for hunt bills fulfilled. Roen was hoping for a similar boon with supply runs.

 

In truth, Roen had ventured out to the Highlands in hopes of getting away from the city of Ishgard. In the suns she had to herself in between scheduled lessons with the Therons, the paladin was starting to look over her shoulder and become restless once more. The lack of news of her brother could bode either well or ill, although she trusted that neither Kage or Delial would not delay in delivering grim tidings. Then there was the matter of Edda’s engagement to Jameson Taeros. The noblewoman seemed cryptic but determined in her decision to see this arrangement through, and it was with great reluctance that Roen agreed to stay away for both Edda and Gideon’s sake. The paladin herself had left Taeros to his own devices after all, believing that he ultimately did not have malicious intentions.

 

The darkening horizon seemed to mirror her mood as the howling gale started to ripple the tarp that was fastened over the supplies of the wagon. Roen stared off into the distance, where she could spot the tombstones of the graveyard where she and Khadai had talked earnestly regarding their ideals. She frowned as worry started to take hold, for she doubted even someone as rugged as he could survive a Coerthas blizzard out in the open.

 

“Why have you called?” a familiar voice rumbled behind her.

 

Roen turned at the inquiry, and gave a sigh of relief at seeing the Xaela warrior standing by the fence that surrounded the mill. She no longer found herself bristling in his presence despite his usual severe disposition. His brusque nature even seemed to hold a softer tone this day, implying comfortable directness rather than impatience.

 

“Ah, Khadai.” She greeted him with a cant of her head. “I had hoped you could help me escort the last of the supply wagon back to the Convictory but…” She gestured to the bird next to her. “This one cannot travel without some rest and the weather is looking bleak. I apologize for calling you out here. I will not be making the trip just yet.”

 

“It is an inconvenience to be called,” the Xaela said bluntly as he looked to the skies. “Can you seek shelter until the storm passes? Have you prepared firewood?”

 

Roen arched a brow, regarding him with crossed arms. “There are some within the mill, for just these occasions.” She jerked her head back toward the building behind her. She paused a moment, chewing her lower lip in thought. “But since I did call you out here, perhaps I can make your time worthwhile, at least a little.” She took the reins and started to lead the bird inside. “Do you have those maps and your hunt bills with you?”

 

“I do.” He began to fish into a small leather satchel as he followed her in.

 

Securing the bird within one of the stalls and dismounting the harness from its back, Roen glanced back at the Xaela. “Has Edda been teaching you letters yet?”

 

Khadai looked from the maps in his hand to the paladin. “She had intended to. We have not yet had the opportunity.”

 

Roen exited the stable stall, heading down the hallway to the stairs leading down to the cellars. “Well, since I had caused you some inconvenience, perhaps I can give you your first lesson.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “At least until the blizzard lets up.”

 

The warrior paused in his descent down the stairs. “Why?”

 

The paladin gave him the briefest of glances. “You need to learn it, do you not?” She was careful to keep her tone neutral as she entered the cellars, taking a candle to light more lanterns. “Unless you rather just study the maps.”

 

Khadai followed her into the room, laying out the maps on the table methodically. “That is not an answer. For what reason do you wish to fulfill a service that has been promised to me by another?”

 

Roen exhaled sharply, turning around once the last lantern was lit. She frowned at the Au Ra. “It is not a service I am fulfilling, Khadai. Not everything needs to be some transaction agreed upon. It is just… an offer of a lesson. I thought you could use it.” Her voice softened as she approached the table. “Knowing you, you would continue to become indebted in exchange for something so simple.”

 

The Xaela warrior regarded her a moment longer, before he too raised his shoulders in something that resembled a shrug. “I do not accept your reasoning,” he said coarsely. “However, I will not refuse information.”

 

The paladin narrowed her eyes at him, but shook her head and regarded the map. She leaned forward and tapped a finger on a mark. “This is where we are now, the mill. Have you had the chance to compare the map to your surveys?”

 

Khadai frowned. “Is that what the symbol means? A residence?” He snorted. “Your maps require a defter hand.” He planted a gauntleted finger on one point near the northern edge, sweeping across a large range. “The environment alters rapidly with and without snowfall. It is different from my land. It is possible for the appearance of the area to change from one sun to the next.”

 

Roen nodded, tapping at other marks on the map. “Aye, that is true. But there are at least some obvious landmarks that can be recognized. The Black Iron Bridge, the frozen river branches below that you can follow… they are detailed here. I can teach you the letters to recognize them.”

 

It was then that she saw the Xaela warrior glancing up, as the strong winds began to rattle the rooftops and the rafters creaked in protest. The paladin paused when she spotted a forlorn, almost nostalgic expression on his face.

 

“The storm increases,” he said quietly. But as Roen watched, the placid, stern exterior returned almost immediately. “I have no need of the names to navigate.”

 

The paladin diverted her gaze back to the map and the hunt bills that were set aside next to them. She kept her tone neutral. “Aye, but learning the letters would still be a useful thing.” She leaned forward again, tapping her fingers over the large, bolded letters at the bottom of the map that denoted the region. “We can start with those.”

 

Roen paused when he abruptly placed his hand close to hers as as she traced the letters on the map. His imitation of her gesture was accompanied with his typical serious expression. “I recognize a number of familiar symbols.” He continued to follow her movements with his fingertip.

 

She gave him a sidelong glance then finished tracing the curves of the letters. “Coerthas...” she enunciated clearly as she went over them. “Coerthas Western Highlands,” she finished the rest of the name slowly.

 

Khadai leaned in, pointing at the first letter. “What sounds do these symbols correspond with?”

 

Her lips curled, satisfied with his inquiry. She began to sound out each letter again slowly. “The ‘th’ here is said as one, not all single letter always represent one sound.”

 

“This is needlessly obtuse,” Xaela observed, even as he nodded. He pointed at the “t” in both “Coerthas” and “Western” and furrowed his brow. “These are identical symbols yet hold different sounds. Are there consistent numbers of sounds for each symbol?”

 

Roen chewed the inside of her cheek pondering that. “I had never thought of it that way. Usually each letter has one dominant sound, but when paired with a certain letter, that pairing can change the pronunciation.”

 

“A written language based upon circumstance in which the symbol is placed with no consistent sound?” Khadai shook his head, looking confused. “How are new words and phrases composed? How do those who have never seen it know how to speak of it?”

 

“It was a system that was organized long before our time. But… there is a system, rules to follow.” She exhaled through her nose, finding her explanation a bit inadequate. “How do your people develop their letters?”

 

He glanced at her. "My people have not used written word for some time." He withdrew from the pouch in his belt an item that he held clasped in his hand, as if hesitant to reveal it. "Transmission of ideas is done with a certain… process."

 

Roen arched both her brows, clearly surprised. "How do they record knowledge?"

 

Khadai frowned. "I am not certain I am equipped to properly explain, and you may not be equipped to understand. If you accept my explanation, it may be incomplete and misrepresentative of the process in question."

 

"Why not try.” She peered up at the Xaela. “Equipped or not. You may even surprise yourself."

 

He sighed. "As you wish." The Au Ra uncurled a hand and within lay a small pebble of polished black granite. It was a simple object, shaped like a rectangular prism, with an elaborate design carved upon its surface. It almost looked more like a natural pattern rather than a carving, so intricate it was, and yet it held a certain controlled quality of artificiality to its presence as well. With his left hand, he took her right hand and placed it upon his own right palm, where the runestone lay. His emerald gaze was unwavering upon her eyes as he did so.

 

“What does your mind tell you?" he asked intently.

 

"My mind...?" Roen flicked a glance between her hand and Khadai. "Is... it supposed to tell me something?"

 

"No. I would be surprised if it did." His right hand fell from hers, the runestone clasped in his grip. "Transmission of ideas is done through stones such as this. The symbol upon it contains a certain… thing. That contains the entirety of an idea." He paused for a moment. "The symbol itself is arbitrary. The symbol is… a vessel. For this… thing. This..." He pursed his lips. "Energy? To flow."

 

"Certain individuals of my people are capable of transmitting idea through touch or eyesight in close proximity." As if to demonstrate his point, he stepped close to the paladin and placed his face close to hers, his intense gaze focusing on her own. A few tense seconds of this and he pulled away, his demonstration done. Roen could only swallow and stare.

 

"With such things, there is no ambiguity to the idea being transmitted, and the learning of symbol as they correspond to sound, and the learning of sounds as they correspond to ideas is unnecessary. If you possessed the capability of recording such information, you would be able to tell me of a thing that I do not know the word for." He gestured to himself. "And I, in turn, would be able to tell you of such a thing in equal measure."

 

The paladin blinked slowly, her lips slightly parted. She was trying to absorb everything he was saying. "So you can communicate without saying a word. Through... just... thought?"

 

Khadai shook his head. "No. We cannot tell what the other is thinking through effort alone. It requires… an exchange of sorts."

 

She stared at his hand again. "But you use a stone carved with a... rune? For this exchange?" She was searching for the right word herself.

 

"The symbol is arbitrary," the Xaela repeated. "It is only used to allow… the flow. Of information. The colour of one's eyes is arbitrary. It is only used to permit one's vision."

 

"I see..." the paladin said absently, trying to process the information. "But the fact that your people can exchange ideas without even needing to speak… is remarkable."

 

"Speech is still necessary for communication. Recorded information, however, utilizes this, and not symbols corresponding with sound." Khadai nodded. "It is a way in--" He paused.

 

When Roen glanced at him expectantly, she saw his entire frame tense, his eyes fixated on the ceiling. Then suddenly he took off in a sprint, darting upstairs despite the sounds that indicated that the blizzard was still howling fiercely outside. The paladin got no chance to call out his name, she could only chase after him.

 

The doors had been practically barricaded with snow. Still, Khadai managed to barrel through, the winds and snow smashing against his face and anyone else who dared to venture outside. Roen ran out after him without question, skidding to a stop upon the icy ground near the door. Even amidst the blizzard, the Au Ra’s viridian eyes nearly gleamed with a sharp gaze, as he looked left and right, scanning for something amidst the veil of snow and frost. The paladin could see nothing but sleet and darkness, having to raise a hand near her face to protect her eyes. Her other hand hovered near her blade, just in case anything posed an immediate threat. It was only after she assured herself that no danger was about that she began to approach the warrior.

 

Khadai stood still, being battered by the storm for several long seconds that felt like minutes, before he turned abruptly around and nearly ran into her. Even before she could speak, he reached out a hand and wrapped his grip around her shoulder, spinning her around to herd her back to the refuge of the residence.

 

“Inside!” he shouted over the screaming wind.

 

Roen did not resist as she was led back in; his hand clasped upon her shoulder and the other against the side of her abdomen were rather insistent. But she stopped once inside of the stables, where it was only mildly less frigid than the blizzard outside, and the rattling of the building’s frame was even louder here than it was in the basement. She turned around and gave the Au Ra a pointed look.

 

"What was that all about?" Hint of an alarm was clear in her expression and raised voice, although the latter might have been to carry above the loud surroundings.

 

"My objective," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder to the door that still shook and shuddered with the force of the gales. "This is the second occurrence. So it is upon the Western Continent. Nearby...? No. But not far. It is..." He trailed off in thought.

 

Roen blinked, wide eyes going from him to the door then back to the warrior. "You... saw it? Felt it? Heard it?"

 

Khadai frowned. "Felt...? No. But that is the… closest description."

 

"Ah. Well then, by all means." The edge of her lips curled upwards, her expression relaxing slightly. "I am glad for you, Khadai. What will you do next?"

 

"I do not know. I have no clear course of action." He sighed, facing her again. "I may stay a while longer."

 

The paladin stared at the door again, suddenly a spark of possibilities sending her thoughts spinning. "Did it tell you in which direction at least? Perhaps we can search through the maps. Or..."

 

The warrior shook his head. "If I had obtained such an indication, I would have known. All I know that it is present." His gaze came to rest upon her. "That is substantial information on its own."

 

"It is something." She nodded and there was new energy about her. She felt her breath becoming lighter and quickened. The paladin looked to the doors again, tapping a finger against her lip. "Although you needed not to escort me back in so quickly. I could have looked along with you or..." she pondered out loud, before the weight of his unwavering gaze on her was too obvious for her not to notice. She flicked a glance or two his way, then exhaling as if annoyed with herself, she squarely looked back at him. "Why are you--”

 

“You appear well," Khadai mused. "You have found some measure of faith."

 

Roen paused.

 

She could not answer right away, instead she turned her gaze back toward the door. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, then wrinkled her nose for a moment before she responded. "I was... glad for you. It is difficult to be without purpose."

 

"What do you refer to?" the warrior asked.

 

She chewed her lower lip then shook her head. "Nothing," she said quickly and turned on her heel back toward the stairs. "We should head back downstairs, it is much more chilly up here. I doubt you can go too far in that blizzard, anyroad."

 

The Xaela clasped her shoulder with an arm, turning her back around to face him. "It is not nothing," he chided. "I wish to know."

 

Roen frowned. Such gestures may have flared her ire if it was a stranger or someone else, but she did not with Khadai. Perhaps she had come to accept his austerity as part of his frank nature. She was more surprised to hear her own candid response to his inquiry. "My history is sordid and not a happy tale, Khadai. There was a reason why I came here. It was to run away from my failures and my ruined faith."

 

The frown had left his face. His expression was a stern one but it was one of approval as well. "There are many things I do not understand of this land. But to begin to regain what was lost, is to never lose it again." He released her shoulder gently. “I will rest, until the storm ends. Then I will depart."

 

He pursed his lips, considering his words in that telltale fashion of hesitation he adopted. "If you... wish to have discourse, then I will offer what guidance I can." He offered her a short nod, and retreated back down into the basement leaving the paladin standing alone and cloaked in uncertainty.

[Nero]

Outside the ramshackle structure, the blizzard intensified, wailing winds sweeping snow across the forlorn landscape in a fearsome howl. Shutters rattled and the worn boards of the building audibly creaked and groaned in mournful protest as they feebly resisted the gales that smashed against the structure. The cellar of the abandoned house was thankfully dug deep enough that the scream of the winter storm above had been reduced to a wispy lamentation that only occasionally made its unwelcome presence known with a sharp whistle and a creak of the aged support beams that had been driven into the cellar. At times, a startled warble would escape one of the chocobos resting in the stables upstairs, but otherwise all was quiet.

 

The Xaela had taken to seating himself against one of the corners of the empty wall, leaning against the slate-coloured bricks, with one knee raised and the other leg outstretched against the stone floor. The brass-coloured sabatons would clink at times whenever he shifted his position, while the blued steel of his sword rested in its harness at his side. His eyes were closed, but Kasrjin’s mind was very much awake.

 

Another pulse in such a short interval of time. And just like last time, it felt so...foreign. So there was something that possessed attributes similar to what he was seeking present here. And it had become….active? It was impossible to tell. About the only thing he was certain of was that it existed. Where he could find it or even what it was...those were questions that were beyond him.

 

His eyes fluttered open to reveal a viridian sheen. The blizzard had not yet relented, and so it would appear that he would have to remain here for a while longer. A hand slipped into the folds of his tabard to grasp the cold runestone. He’d shed his gauntlets, allowing an idle finger to trace along the elaborate pattern that reminded him of how far he was. The fringes of emerald green that lined his bangs were swept away with a hand that was equal parts irritation and idle habit.

 

A sigh escaped his lips.

 

It would be but a while longer.

 

Roen did not appear to object much to his sudden and apparently random burst of motion suddenly interrupting their discussion on the nature of written languages, but a part of him did hope that she would not ask too many questions. He still did not feel equipped to answer what concerns she might have.

 

He glanced up as the wind howled again.

 

A while longer.

[Roen]

Roen stood stock still, her back to the thick wooden doors that still rattled and creaked from the battering of the blizzard outside. She stared at the stairs leading down to the cellars, where Khadai had disappeared only some moments ago. Her hand instinctively rose to her chest, fingers absently rubbing over the breastplate where she could feel the earrings resting against her skin.

 

"If you wish... to have discourse. Then I will offer what guidance I can."

 

She had not spoken of what had happened--what had made her flee to this frozen place so many moons ago--to anyone else since her arrival. And for many moons since, she had not even considered revisiting those memories. They were too painful to bear. But now...?

 

The paladin laid her hand flat, her fingers splayed over her heart. How long has it been since she had felt that suffocating vice there?

 

"You appear well. You have found some measure of faith," Khadai had said.

 

Has she?

 

Well, just standing here is not going to give me any answers, Roen chided herself, feeling foolish at her indecisiveness. Letting out a long exhale, she made her way down the stairs.

 

Finding the Xaela warrior seated in the corner, the paladin crossed the room to the table without another word. She undid the buckles of her gauntlets, leaving them as well as her sword and shield on the table. The Au Ra’s expression remained as stern as ever, but Roen recalled the glimpse of the forlorn countenance that had emerged even for a brief moment during their talk earlier. It did not last long, and it was quickly replaced by his usual austere visage.

 

It reminded her of her own self.

 

Roen slid down to a seat on the floor next to him, both knees drawn to her chest. She leaned her back against the wall, her eyes aimlessly looking about the room. It was after a moment of silence that she spoke again.

 

“Do you wish to go back? To where you came from?”

[Nero]

He did not respond immediately, though he did release the runestone and bring his hand out again to rest on his raised knee. He did not glance at her as she sat next to him, but instead kept his gaze fixed to the wall.

 

“It is a familiar place,” he said, not precisely answering the question. “I do not concern myself with thoughts of what the appropriate course of action would be.”

 

Kasrjin glanced up at the ceiling again, as if expecting another pulse. It seemed that he and the stern woman have been spending a disproportionate amount of time in one another’s presence, although he noted that she seemed to grow less and less stern the more they spoke. He was not nearly egotistical enough to claim that it was his influence, but the mere possibility was...flattering.

 

Perhaps they might reconcile yet.

 

“You do not originate from here either,” the Xaela noted sagely, glancing at her from the corner of his eye briefly before returning his gaze to the wall. “You are not a combatant in service to the city, and you speak as one who has not been in this location for long.” He did not say, but it was evident in the manner she carried herself, and the way she spoke on things he mentioned seeing within the city. Her gaze, too, was one of an outsider. And there were times where she wore a forlorn gaze on her expression….much like his own. An expression they adopted when they believed none were nearby to observe it.

 

They appeared to coincide at the oddest junctions.

 

He wondered what Tsanai would have said about it.

 

“Do you seek refuge?” he asked, fingers beginning to lightly tap on the metal knee guard. The Western continent was a land of conflict like any other, and so it would not surprise Kasrjin at such a reason.

[Roen]

“I did,” Roen answered without much hesitation, her gaze also remaining on the far wall. “The reason I came to Ishgard was to run away from my failures.”

 

That much she was willing to admit. And a part of her was surprised that there was not a stronger pang in her chest as she did so. Was it because Khadai was a stranger? She had found that confessing her thoughts was a cathartic and even a helpful thing when she had confided in Ser Heuloix in the Cathedral, because he too was a stranger then. Or was it because she saw fragments of herself in the Xaela warrior’s disposition?

 

“Where I came from, the sun scorched the stone and soil from sunrise to sundown.” Her voice grew distant as she began to recall the bright sandy landscape of Thanalan. “Snow was a miraculous thing in Ul’dah if it ever happened, and often it melted as soon as it hit the sand. It was exactly the opposite of Ishgard in climate. It is also where I trained as a knight and had called home for many years.”

 

The paladin paused, her finger absently tracing the chain links of her armor. “Perhaps that is why I came here. I sought to run far away from all that I knew… to dismiss from mind my regrets, my mistakes.” Roen snorted ruefully and shook her head. “I thought that coming to a land plagued by a thousand year war, where all they hoped for was to survive against beasts that sought to destroy their lives… I thought that would be enough to bury all other troubles.”

 

Long auburn forelocks fell before her eyes as she lowered her head. “I was wrong. I was foolish to think so. You cannot bury your past. You cannot forget all that you have done.” Her voice had dipped and her expression had turned sour. “So aye. I did seek refuge, and perhaps for poor reasons. I came here because I could not stay where I was. And yet here, I am still lost.”

[Nero]

They appeared to coincide at the oddest junctures.

 

That was not the answer he had expected. He’d expected….well, Kasrjin wasn’t entirely sure what kind of response he was expecting. She was a combatant engaged in a war; it would not make sense if she were fleeing one conflict by hiding in another. Maybe he was expecting her to have a mission, like him, but if she did then this lack of conviction would be unexplainable. There was still so little that he knew about the Western continent, despite Tsanai’s best efforts to educate him.

 

His eyes were closed, and his breathing slowed in contemplation before formulating a reply. “All beings are lost in some form,” he rumbled quietly. “All wander.”

 

The Xaela shifted slightly, somewhat uncomfortable with his sparse response.

 

His face fell, the barest expression of loneliness and...understanding, too, crossing his face, a hand reaching into the tabard, clasping the runestone again.

 

Kasrjin's eyes flickered open as he pulled the runestone out of the folds of his tabard, tracing the pattern again. His emerald eyes flashed in the low light of the cellar.

 

“All wander.”

[Roen]

Roen gave Khadai a sidelong glance when he responded. But catching the change in his tone and expression, she found herself continuing to watch him when he brought out the runestone in his hand. Her gaze came to rest on his hand's movements over patterns on the stone. She said nothing as she contemplated his words.

 

“I was so certain, before.” She finally broke the quiet with a soft murmur. “I knew what my path was, my purpose, and what I believed in. About the world, about the people in it.” The paladin paused at her own words. Has so much changed in a year? She idly rubbed at her breastplate, furrowing her brow at the possibility of sharing what had come to pass. And yet, despite her reluctance, a part of her wished to know Khadai’s thoughts on the matter--those odd, brusque, foreign thoughts that were not so strange to her.

 

A heartbeat later, Roen tugged on the chain around her neck, pulling out a pair of amethyst earrings hanging from them. Her fingers carefully traced the elaborate filigrees of silver and gold, and when they swung from the silver chain, they jingled lightly. Her grey eyes watched them for a moment, her expression saddening.

 

“‘Why would a man wear such a thing?’ I thought, when I first saw them. The man wore these flashy jingling earrings that drew my attention. His jokes and obnoxious grins were the same. Just to draw the attention, perhaps to mislead others from what should have been their focus.” She continued to watch the earrings, as the deep purple gem caught the light of the flickering flames in the distance.

 

“He rarely said what was on his mind,” she said quietly. “Even with me... and I was one of the few people that he came to trust. And he did not trust very many.”

 

The paladin shrugged, her expression muted. “He was like me, in ways that we both wanted to change what we saw was wrong. We saw that the rich grew richer, and the poor grew sicker. The gap between the two sides only seemed to grow wider every sun.”

 

“That was how things were…” She paused and shook her head. “How things... are in Ul’dah. It is where coin dictates who rules.”

 

A span of silence fell between them again. “It is not too different from what you saw in the Brume.” She snorted bitterly. “And in that, I suppose I did not really run away from anything at all.”

[Nero]

Kasrjin was not completely sure of what to say. He did offer to hear her out on her loss of faith--in truth, such matters interested him, especially with a people as foreign as those of the Western continent--but it was only now that he truly considered whether or not he had something of substance with which to respond with.

 

It was now that he became increasingly aware of their differences in addition to their similarities. The Brume was a difficult sight to take in when he first laid eyes on it. Basic fortifications lay in ruins, and perfectly usable manpower was permitted to waste away during what he had believed to be a time of total war. It was so incredibly wasteful. And yet, he knew that expressing such a sentiment would earn disdain among the Western continent. He did not understand why such was so--after all, if Ishgard was embroiled in a war, then its objective must be victory, and did it not make sense to devote all available resources to achieving that objective?--and the Xaela was not entirely sure he would ever comprehend such.

 

At times, Kasrjin could glance at Roen and sense some odd manner of kinship. At other times, he was met with nothing but befuddlement and confusion, and a peculiar sense of restraint that seized him whenever he was about to express his confusion on certain subjects. It was a contrast.

 

They coincided at the oddest junctures, and parted ways at others, and there seemed to be little rhyme or reason to it.

 

“All wander,” he repeated, speaking slowly, his rumbling voice having lowered into a smooth baritone utterance. “Certainty is a...privilege to have. But with certainty comes lack of perspective, as well. All believe in a path that is set for them. All learn to leave the path and wander.”

 

Kasrjin was very careful in selecting his words so as to avoid ambiguity on his intent. He was also, perhaps ironically, uncertain of whether or not anything he was saying possessed value. But one thing he had definitely learned was that the Western continent habitually assigned value to that which seemingly did not have any.

 

It was odd.

 

He carefully considered her words again. Her tone sounded forlorn...perhaps regretful. But her words did not appear to express or even imply such sentiment, at least to him. This, too, was a confusing nuance of their communication.

 

He would take a risk and make an assumption.

 

“You...possess regret?” He questioned in a soft tone that could almost be called timid. “You wished for things to change, and made an effort. But things did not.” A pause. “And you assume….responsibility for such.”

[Roen]

Regret.

 

Roen did not know whether to laugh or cry at the poignancy of the warrior’s question. It was her guilt and regret that had haunted her every waking moment since that day in Aleport. Would recalling the circumstances, retelling Khadai of all that had happened, would it reopen the wounds?

 

"Their causes are abandoned. Their ideals forgotten. What made them people are left behind, to litter the past like these stone markers litter this hill."

 

In trying to banish her sorrows, was she rejecting all that she and Nero had worked for? Forget all that he was? All that they had hoped to accomplish?

 

The amethyst earrings jingled softly as she laid them upon her palm.

 

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

 

“More than I can say,” the paladin rasped.

 

She exhaled, gathering her thoughts. “Many refugees, those who fled the incursion of Garlemald in the north, fled south, and ended up on the Gates of Ul’dah. Only they were not let in. The wealthy ruling class deemed that the city could not support nor aid those people who had nowhere else to go. So they rejected them, left them to live in squalor outside the walls. Within the walls, exotic dancers performed for the pleasures of men, and drinks and food were plentiful for anyone with coin. And nobles walked about dressed in rich silks.”

 

“It is very much like what you saw in the Brume. Only people do not freeze to death in Ul’dah. The refugees and the poor there die from starvation, disease, and misery.” Sorrow darkened her countenance as she continued to stare at the gems in her hand. “He wanted to change all that. To force those in power to take another look at themselves, and to restructure things.”

 

A sad fleeting smile rose. “And I believed him. I tried to help him.” She paused for a long time, as her melancholy slowly gave way to something more sober. Her expression hardened.

 

“But he was not like me, in that he was willing to do anything to achieve that goal.” She closed her fingers around the earrings. “He meant to kill people. Many people. Men, women, and children.” She fell silent, still staring at her closed fist. A deep frown twisted her face; it was almost as if she was glaring at the earrings within her hand.

 

“I… thought I could save him,” she muttered darkly. “I thought I could save the poor, the refugees, but him too. He warned me from the start what he was willing to do. He was willing to bathe the streets in blood, to see the city burn, if it would bring about the change he wanted to see.”

 

“I thought I could save him,” she said again with a shake of her head. “That if his heart wanted to save those people from suffering... that it could not be all black.” Her words shook and she fought to keep the warmth from rising to her eyes. “That I could somehow find a way to help him change his course and still help those in need.”

 

Another long silence fell between them as she struggled to keep her composure. The wounds… they had not fully healed. Not yet.

 

“In the end, I could not abide by the violence he had planned. And… many people died still."

 

Her voice was the barest ragged whisper. "And nothing changed. I saved no one.”

[Nero]

They sat in silence for a while longer, the Xaela glancing at the runestone in his hand, though his eyes no longer traced the pattern in contemplation. There was much he had to frame within his head, and it did not feel like a prudent decision to question Roen as to the definition of certain terms or names. And so he pored through her confessions in his mind, putting everything into its place before formulating a response.

 

Ul’dah sounded like a name. A settlement? A nation? It was a location of sorts. Garlemald was the name of the nation of black ones, the Garleans, who had been engaged in a conflict with the Western continent before, from what she had told him at the armory. And it appeared those who were in positions of authority or affluence refused to grant succor to those seeking refuge. She referred to a man, very likely one of those who had been denied, as wanting to change such things violently. And Roen joined with him, in order to…his head tilted slightly as he stared at the runestone. She wished to change his methods?

 

Kasrjin did not know the man in question and likely would not understand the man if the latter were explained to him, but he could at least understand Roen's sentiment.

 

And he was beginning to see from where her regret was stemming from.

 

The failure to change someone or something. To take a risk, and to be left with nothing. Such was this land. It was difficult to tell if it was drowning or thriving on such turmoil. With that, many of the odd things he witnessed began to come together in their own strange way.

 

"And you have come in the hopes of laying your burden to rest in this land," he murmured, more to himself than to her. He did not fully understand her concerns, not yet. But Kasrjin felt that at the least, he could come to comprehend it given time and patience.

 

He could recognize regret, and how she regretted failing to change a man, and to prevent the deaths he was responsible for. That, at least, was a simple enough concept.

 

"Turn back time, and what course of action would you have taken?" He glanced at her from the corner of his shimmering eyes as her composure revealed its cracks.

[Roen]

“Does it matter?” the paladin replied immediately, her words sounding sharper than she had intended.

 

Was that not the question she had asked herself so many times over? If there had ever been anything she could have done differently? And each time she had recounted her steps, she ran into the same forks on the road over and over again and wondered if she would have chosen a different path. It would have meant not hoping that Nero would be a better man, or trusting Crofte, or others whom she had placed her faith in. Knowing what she did now, would she decide differently?

 

‘I thought I wanted you to join my side.’

 

Would she still try and convince him there were other ways besides violence that could prevail? Would she still hold steadfast onto her belief that Nero Lazarov was a good man?

 

‘But what I wanted was to go over to yours.’

 

Her hand trembled and she reflexively tightened her grip around the earrings she still held within them. She knew in her heart that if she was given one chance to do something different, she knew which moment above all that she would change.

 

That fateful day, in that warehouse, in Aleport.

 

Roen curled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, lowering her head upon her knees. She no longer wanted to meet Khadai’s gaze. “I cannot change the past,” she murmured. “I cannot undo what was done.”

 

She felt herself shiver and it was not from the cold. She hid a quiet sniffle as she buried her face against her legs. “Would that I could tell myself to still hold onto hope. To take that one last leap of faith… despite all the lies.”

 

She shook her head, her tone morose. “It is too late.”

[Nero]

“To undo errors, yes,” Kasrjin nodded, turning his head to face her. He swept away an emerald lock from his face as he did. “To learn from them...no.”

 

He did not feel comfortable saying more on the matter, as a part of him understood that despite their differences, foreign as they were to one another, there was nothing he could say that she had not already said to herself regarding her regrets. He shifted his position as a glisten of a tear crept down to her knee where she had placed her head. His gaze lay fixed to the runestone in his hand, and its myriad meanings that it both held and lacked.

 

Did he regret travelling here here, in a land so far from his own, in a place where isolation’s dark grip clenched his heart every day? Did he regret deeming himself capable of undertaking such a daunting task?

 

It was one thing to be merely alone. It was another to be surrounded by strangers. Where once there had been brilliant colours--his people, with whom he could connect with--he was surrounded by naught but sleet, snow, and dull, gray hues.

 

To be in a world where he was not welcome. Where he did not belong. Every day was a choice to remain. Did he regret it? He did not know.

 

A sigh escaped his face, and sensing that she could not see it, his stoic expression fell for just a moment.

 

Solitude was a tiresome thing.

 

“Why do you wish to aid me?” He asked suddenly, tracing the pattern on the runestone again. A part of him yearned for the burst of warmth that the trinket could no longer provide. He could not help but wonder if her aiding him was some expression of her past regret. But if it was, did he care? Should he?

 

No, he didn't, at least at the moment. He had offered to hear her out on her crisis of faith because he was interested in gaining some insight to the Western continent’s beliefs.

 

The confused frown crossed his face.

[Roen]

When the paladin looked back up at Khadai, her cheeks were flushed with emotion and her eyes glistened with the tears she had shed. She found herself at a loss for an answer, especially when she glimpsed the rare wistful expression on the warrior. She stared at him for a moment longer almost dumbfounded, before she hastily wiped at her face to erase the trail of moisture there.

 

“Why.... do I wish to aid you?” she repeated hoarsely. “I…”

 

Roen paused again. Did she know why? She had warned him of the cruelty that existed in this world… because she believed that it would crush his optimism, his belief that people were inherently decent. She knew first hand what that lesson felt like, and she was desperate to spare him of it.

 

But was that not the realization that should be taught to others? That virtue had no place in this world? Was he not headed down the same path of disappointment and regret if he continued to hold onto his unwavering faith in humanity? If she truly believed it to be so… she should be doing all she could to grant him that understanding. So why was there a part of her that wanted to protect him from it?

 

“I… see parts of myself in you, Khadai.” She bowed her head, her voice just barely audible over the creaking wooden beams of the cellar. “How I used to be. Driven with hope. Believing others to be fair. Eager to do what I could to help those who were in need. I… do not wish to see you become like me, as I am now. Lost.”

 

Roen tucked the earrings back under her breastplate, letting out an exhale as she felt the gems come to rest against her chest. Her gaze drifted to the stone grooves on the floor as she spoke. “You said we all learn to leave our path and wander. I have been wandering for sometime now, feeling adrift. I thought that was what I wanted.”

 

The paladin shook her head. “But all I felt was emptiness. I thought if I pushed everyone all away, then I would feel nothing. I was wrong.” She turned back to Khadai, peering up at the warrior. “It was in coming to your aid that some of that hollow feeling was forgotten.”

 

She shrugged with a quiet sigh--an almost a helpless gesture. “I... have no purpose of my own. Not… not yet. But perhaps in aiding you… I can start to find my own way.”

 

Roen regarded him for a moment longer, her expression softening despite the sadness that lingered there. “And you are a foreigner in a land you do not know. You should not go about it alone. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

[Nero]

“Purpose,” he repeated softly. The Xaela stared at the runestone for a while longer. As she tucked her bauble back into her breastplate, so too did the runestone vanish into the folds of the ebon black tabard that adorned his armour.

 

Kasrjin glanced at her directly for the first time in their conversation, his shimmering viridian eyes meeting her grey gaze. It was considerably less steely than before, having softened considerably.

 

He exhaled in contemplation. Purpose. A reason for being. It was something that seemed so fleeting to so many people here. He had never had cause to question purpose. He was Khadai, one who was called upon to defend. Purpose was never in doubt or question.

 

Or was it?

 

That was not always true. There was a time where he was in flux. His place in the world uncertain, his direction lost, his efforts apparently meaningless in the face of doubt. Where purpose was questioned. Why had I been placed in this world?, he had thought. Why this, and not another? Another where such anxiety and incertitude did not have a place.

 

Purpose. To feel as if one belonged in the world they had been placed in.

 

It was a doubt that could kill, if one was not careful.

 

He glanced away.

 

“I have not always been Khadai,” he murmured, his voice filled with baritone resonance. “Perhaps you think all of my people to be like stone, unwavering against waves. And at times, they may be.” He shifted his legs, lowering one knee and raising the other. “All are called upon to use the greatest of their skills and knowledge. As Khadai are called to defend, so are Erdegai called to create. And Yerenai called to nurture. But it is not infallible. There are lapses in resolve. This becomes uncertainty. Doubt. A feeling of...lacking purpose, for purpose and function are not identical.”

 

Kasrjin shifted, clearly uncomfortable with his word choice and unsure of whether or not his statements were being received in the way that he intended them. A part of him always disliked talking for this very reason: it was an awkward method of communication filled with nuances and ambiguities. Nonetheless, he pressed on.

 

“There are times where one wonders why they are placed in this world, and not another. Where they belong, if they belong at all. If one’s nature is not conducive to one’s function, but one’s function can override one’s nature, who is this person? What is their...purpose?”

 

He sighed and shook his head to clear the haze from his mind. “All wander,” he repeated. “But to wander and to be lost...they are not one and the same. Lacking purpose only means...one will find it in the future. Regardless of what comes.”

[Roen]

Roen listened carefully, trying to absorb the details that Khadai was sharing about his people. She was beginning to suspect that they were much more than just a utilitarian society, from the insights that the warrior had given about his personal misgivings, the trials of his people, and his own philosophy. And yet, so many more questions rose when he spoke of purpose and function, and how they were not the same.

 

“What happens… when you are assigned a function and yet there is a different purpose that rings true in your mind?” She canted her head, regarding him earnestly. “You said you dislike violence. And yet you are Khadai, those who are called to defend. Fight. Have you ever had a lapse in your resolve?”

 

The paladin could see that his stern visage had fallen away a little, and their gaze met and lingered. He always seemed distant before, almost always talking to her while looking elsewhere, or meeting the other’s attention with a severe expression of his own. She had wondered if he did so either due to discomfort or in an effort to keep them away. She was all too well-practiced in the latter, after all. It seemed that this day, they were both willing to meet in the middle, to do more than to just talk to each other, but to also listen.

 

“You said you were not always Khadai. What were you before?”

[Nero]

He was not completely sure how to respond. In truth, he had never thought about it. What he was before. Before Kasrjin Khadai. There were moments were discussing his past were necessary, but he had never considered it to be him. Who he was in his previous role was another person, living in another time, in another life, so defined by his role was he, and the subject was treated as such. It was like being asked who a stranger was, or to describe a face he'd never seen before.

 

“What were you before?”

 

That was what Roen asked.

 

Kasrjin was not sure.

 

Was that him? Or was it truly someone else? Did he know? Did it matter?

 

“His...my...responsibilities were different,” he said evasively, glancing away. How could he even begin to explain it? Would she understand? Could she? Somehow, it was a reminder. That he didn’t belong. In this place, this continent, perhaps this world. There was no place. Not for him.

 

His tone became clinical, the subject deflecting to her earlier inquiries. “One’s inclinations are considered when it is to be determined what role they shall take,” the Xaela explained, shifting his position again. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin, in this frigid air, in this space. Who was he before? Did that person have a place? Did he? It was a struggle to maintain clarity. “Placing one who does not wish to function within a certain role is inefficient. An artisan who does not wish to create or imagine shall not be an artisan, even if their personal skill places them as one.” A pause. “And one who does not wish to fight, but is willing to despite that wish, is capable of being Khadai.”

 

“My resolve,” he murmured. “There are times where it is possessed by certainty. And other times by doubt.” Kasrjin looked distracted, the Xaela now glancing off into the upper corner of the cellar as the blizzard continued. “It matters not.”

[Roen]

Roen sensed the shift in his mood, his focus. His eyes diverted away from hers and his tone hardened as if water had frozen to ice. His explanation seemed a cold one.

 

The paladin canted her head, as if trying to follow his gaze even when he turned his attention elsewhere. He was stepping back, away from the middle ground where they had met and shared their thoughts. She wondered why he was pulling back so. Was there uncertainty about what his purpose was before? He only had briefly touched upon it, but he too had mentioned doubt, lapses in resolve that could happen even amongst his people. Had he also experienced that lost feeling that had plagued her since Aleport?

 

She watched as his chest rose and fell--the rhythmic breathing that filled the silence between them--as his austere countenance began to fall back into place. Roen wondered if that is how she appeared when she tried regain her own composure in those times that it had faltered. He did not want to fight, but was willing to for the benefit of his people. She was beginning to understand his reluctance in accepting his duty, sacrificing his desires to fulfill a need for the sake of others.

 

Roen felt a sudden stirring blooming within, an urge that did not want to see him withdraw behind his rigid mask again.

 

A hand timidly reached out, her pale callused fingers curling around larger, darker hand of the Xaela. She gave it a gentle squeeze.

 

“It does matter,” the paladin said quietly. “Our doubts and our flaws are also part of who we are… as much as we hate to admit them. It is how we overcome them, that defines us as individuals.”

 

Their discourse until now had been about purpose, resolve. And it was becoming obvious to her that Khadai identified himself by his function--his role in the world. Neither was what she truly wanted to know.

 

Her grasp remained upon his hand. She had turned in her seat, her legs now tucked beneath her. She leaned slightly to the side, as if trying to draw his gaze back to her. She curled a small smile in offering. “You say you are Khadai, those called to defend. And there are others… those who create and those who… nurture? All of you are not just labeled by your function, aye? You are each your own person, still.”

 

“Do you have a name? One that is unique to you?”

[Nero]

He flinched as her hand touched his. For an instant his gaze was drawn to her face, a small smile across her face. What crossed his mind was conflict. His eyes were drawn to her one moment and pulled away the next.

 

The Xaela glanced away, though he did not pull his hand from hers. Not immediately.

 

“...it is only to be used for the sake of identifying oneself among other Khadai,” he said, his tone now tired. The blizzard seemed to relent just a tad, as if courteously sensing the mood. “Else, Khadai is who I am.” He did not want to admit it, but for a single second when his attention was pulled towards her, he saw someone else.

 

Representative. Of a world he did not belong in. He knew the risks, going on this venture. There would be no others with him, for they would be sent across the world. The West. The East. North. South. Others, like him, braving not just dangers and unfamiliar lands, but isolation, loneliness, and...a certain heartache as well. To save those people with whom he felt he belonged, and were now so far away that they may as well be naught but memories, figments of the imagination.

 

Resolve. Patience. Determination. These were virtues. And with them, he had endured many a long day and solemn nights on the Western continent, this land he did not know. This land he could not partake in.

 

A different world.

 

Searching for something he did not know and could not locate. He was certain that it existed, but beyond that? Where it lay? If he could find it within this lifetime? Would it be that his purpose was meaningless, that he was to live out his days in this land, endlessly searching for what would allow him to return to where he felt he belonged?

 

There was a dark place in his mind, of fear. Fear of forgetting. What it felt like to be in one’s role, certain of one’s place, and to know all others felt that same certainty.

 

Solidarity.

 

He pulled his hand away, his gaze fixed to the wall again.

 

One hand reached up to rest against the crossguard of the blade leaning against his shoulder.

 

The other clasped the runestone in his tabard.

 

He closed his eyes, and breathed.

[Roen]

She closed her fingers when he pulled his hand away, bringing it back to rest upon her lap. He had withdrawn, and his severe, distant demeanor had returned.

 

Roen remained where she sat for a moment longer, her gaze going to her hands. Heavy oppressive silence fell between them and the middle ground was no more.

 

“Our ways of coming to an understanding with each other, here in this land, it is clumsy.” The paladin finally broke the silence with that quiet murmur; she was no longer looking at him, her head bowed. “It is not like your people, where we can connect on a more intimate level and no words are needed.”

 

“To allow for such a thing… it takes a great deal of trust. And that is something that we all struggle with here. Because we lack such a bond with each other. Sometimes it is like a dance of words between people.” A wry snort escaped her nose. “And some of us are still… very much preoccupied with pride, avarice, and self-interest.” She paused for a moment. “And some of us… do not tell the truth in our hearts until it is much too late.”

 

“So I understand your reluctance to share. To trust.” She inhaled and splayed her fingers over the chainmail that covered her legs. Her voice was kept low throughout her quiet confession. “Sometimes… I too cannot find the words to convey what I feel. And to even try seems like a daunting task. Almost… painful in certain occasions.” She closed her hands again.

 

“But that does not mean that kinship and faith does not exist amongst my people. I had rejected it for some time now, believing it was what I needed to do. But... even now I am trying to regain what was lost.”

 

Roen glanced up at the ceiling as well, noting that her hushed tones were carrying further in their silence. The blizzard was calming, and the howling winds were no more. She inhaled deeply, her expression taking a resigned and wistful turn.

 

“I once said that for a foreigner, your beliefs were not so strange.” She returned her gaze to the Xaela warrior. “I also said that you were not alone in this land for those beliefs.” She rose from her seat, her armor quietly protesting with a few metallic clinks as she did so.

 

“I will aid you however way I can, Khadai. Because I want to.” She curled a small reassuring smile again even though her voice remained subdued. She looked up to the ceiling as the creaking of the wooden beams had come to a cease.

 

“It seems the storm may be coming to an end. Perhaps you can be released from this discourse.”