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Remnants


Nero

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"I...see." Ashur glanced away, trying not to let his face betray any emotion. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but her mission was...more noble than he thought. If it was true, and judging by Roen's tone, Ashur was inclined to believe her. More than that, a part of him wanted to believe her. His pragmatism demanded some degree of suspicion, but Ashur wanted to believe that that brand of altruism was still prevalent in the world.

 

"The person I'm trying to save is my mother," Ashur replied quietly. "I can't go back until I'm cleared of my accusations; I don't want my status as a pariah to affect her." He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Unloading details of his recent life was not something he had on the agenda, but it was important to him that he reciprocate Roen's info with that of his own. He wanted to say that he didn't even know if Emilia was alive right now, but couldn't find it in himself to speak the words aloud. Not out of mistrust, but perhaps there was a fear in him that didn't even want to consider the possibility.

 

He gave a wry smile. "That family is lucky to have someone like you, willing to carry that kind of information so far. I think a lot of people just resolve themselves to never hearing what happened to their love ones after a while." If Ashur had died, would he be so lucky as to find someone willing to carry his story back? Whoever inspired Roen must have had quite the effect on her, or perhaps she was just that bound to her sense of duty. "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, but all the same if you do meet her...well, people change. I just hope you aren't disappointed."

 

 

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Roen’s stride slowed at Ashur’s revelation.

 

It was his mother. She felt all the air leave her lungs, and her bearing felt somewhat bereft of its earlier certainty. She still had no doubt that she had to protect Kasrjin’s tribe, and that she couldn’t allow for the Redeemers to reclaim the keystone, but she too couldn’t imagine letting Ashur’s mother suffer. Especially if her son was wrongfully framed.

 

Would she do anything different were she in his shoes?

 

Setting her jaw, she picked up her stride again, continuing forward. They had to keep going after all. But the earlier tension in her shoulders relaxed somewhat. “I have no expectations, in truth.” Roen shook her head with a quiet sigh. “This woman left her son so many years ago, but she believed that he would have a better life. She loved him then, that much is certain. If she wants nothing from me now, not a single detail or coin, then at least I finished something he could not. That will be enough for me.”

 

Another pause fell in between them, as the distant sounds of birds filled the air. Luckily, the trek on land so far had been uneventful. Roen gave Ashur another sidelong glance, her voice quiet but sincere. “You are from Ishgard,” she ventured a guess. “Aye?”

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Ashur paused--or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he froze. For an ever-so-brief moment, he'd forgotten who he was: a heretic, an exile, an outcast. All this time he'd kept his origins hidden, out of some paranoia that the Inquisition was on the heels of himself and every other heretic as he'd been taught, despite the fact that he'd never encountered a member of the Church outside of Coerthas, much less as far as Vylbrand and certainly not as far as Othard. Perhaps keeping quiet about his past was his way of preserving his future, as if never disclosing his status out loud was the only thing sustaining his hope that one day he would return to Ishgard. Perhaps his fear was that letting his status be known to others would break that hope.

 

"What gave it away?" he asked quietly, his tone adopting an edge of mocking mirth. "I thought I'd done well to keep it under wraps, but either I haven't, or you know substantially more than I do." The question is, now that she knew, what would she do? Would this make her more sympathetic to his cause or less? Regardless, Ashur still intended to retrieve the keystone and find out if his mysterious clients were willing and capable to do what they claimed to do, to clear him of his name.

 

Ashur rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "I suppose what I should be asking is, does it matter if I am? A Temple Knight out here, looking to pillage some Xaela so he can go back home?"

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Roen felt no pride when Ashur confirmed her suspicions. She only felt a twinge of sympathy, for she had seen first hand the hardships that were suffered by those that called Ishgard home. Indeed, if Ashur couldn’t return for the fear of his mother’s safety, it was likely that the brand of heretic was already placed upon him. So eager was the church to exercise its power in marking its own citizens as a threat. That word was a feared and whispered thing among the residents.

 

It brought a small scowl to Roen’s countenance at the thought.

 

“Nay, it does not matter.” She shook her head. “Not to me. It just… makes me understand why you are determined to save your mother.” Her voice softened with a sigh as did her expression. “I knew another Temple Knight. He was a noble soul, dedicated to protecting the people and his nation.” She gave him another sidelong glance. “Had I heard that he was wrongfully framed for a crime? I would do everything I could to clear his name.”

 

Roen drew in another deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she looked ahead. “If you are like he, then I know you would be determined to prove your innocence. Return to protect those you love.” There was a small pause, and while there was no smile upon her visage, a hint of it could be heard in her tone. “But I do not believe that you would pillage innocent villagers.”

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Ashur shrugged, though it was a reflexive gesture more meant to keep his body language from revealing more of his demeanour. There wasn't any relief in having the glimmers of truth out in the air; if anything having the knowledge of his past made Ashur tense up, most pointedly because Roen never answered his question of how she knew. Ashur could only assume that it must have been drawn from what she knew of his clients...information she was still not telling him.

 

His lips tightened into a grim line. "You are right on that account, but I have no intention of giving up my  either. Since you now know the gist of my story, for better or worse, then you will also understand that giving up would be just as vile of an idea as raiding the Xaela. And if I am forced to make a choice, I will make it." Ashur had more or less said this when they started out on their journey, but the truth of it had remained. The Xaela were unknown people far away from him and Eorzea. Giving up meant he might as well turn his gun on himself here and now, and Ashur had no intention of doing such a thing. Innocence and guilt were long-dissolved concepts: the only thing that mattered was what he needed, and what they needed. And if those things came into conflict, then so be it.

 

If the weather held, they would eventually be at the edge of Yanxia, and eventually the Steppe. Far in the distance, the silhouettes of a few lone spires could barely be seen on the horizon, encased in black steel. "Here's to hoping the Garleans don't cause us trouble," Ashur muttered more to himself than his companion. "Though I hear it's unlikely for them to be as far north as the Steppe."

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Well, there went that feeling of goodwill.

 

Ashur was frustratingly adamant about reminding her that violence against the Xaela was never out of his realm of possibility. What little feeling of trust that was starting to be kindled between them was diminishing yet again to a dying ember. And yet… perhaps this was a way he held into hope? To admit to straying from his goal would mean failing his mother.

 

That thought deflated whatever objection that was rising from within. A part of Roen wanted to believe that more he said he would do whatever it takes, more he had doubts on how far he would go. She was not sure what made her want to believe that, but only that the thought lingered.

 

Roen gave Ashur another glance, then looked ahead with a furrowed brow at his mention of Garleans. She had forgotten that Othard was only very recently liberated. And that this entire continent over all was largely occupied by the Empire. It made her wince inwardly but nothing of it was betrayed on her face.

 

“I heard that the Empire showed little interest in the Steppe. I doubt that we would come across any.” Roen hoped. She had been blessed enough that her time in Eorzea was not spent involved in conflicts against the Empire for the most part. She was hoping that her luck had not run out now. 

 

“Have you encountered any? In your time?” She was genuinely curious as she regarded Ashur from the corner of her eye. As far as she knew, Ishgardians stayed mostly out of that conflict. Not that she had any plans on sharing her unique past in Garlemald, but she wanted to know nonetheless.

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"Once or twice. Some of my contracts sent me to Gyr Abania. If you're unlucky like me, then you might run into a few of their long-range reconnaissance groups. Other than those skirmishes, I've not had the opportunity to meet them in open battle though. At least, not yet. If I'm honest, I doubt I ever will have occasion to do so." Ashur grunted as he pulled himself up onto a ledge in an attempt to scan the horizon. The slope had given way to the foliage of Yanxia, and while they had made good distance on foot at what Ashur would describe as a brisk marching pace, it would take another day at least to reach the Steppe, if not more, and that was assuming that the trail would let them take a direct route. They were making good time. Ashur was simultaneously relieved and anxious that they hadn't run into anyone else yet; one of his competitors making an unwelcome appearance would be more than a small hindrance.

 

"That business with the liberation and such is beyond me. I suppose that kind of sentiment isn't a surprise to hear about from an Ishgardian though, hm?" The Hyur slipped down from the ledge, gesturing vaguely with a hand. "Looks like a village of sorts to the northeast. Might be worth bothering them for a wagon or something. Maybe an opportunity to ride a horse, if they have any. All I know for certain is that the trail goes in the wrong direction after a while." Ashur snorted. It looked like a place peasants resided, but there was a vague possibility. Anything to cut down on the travel time. "Or we can just try to cut through directly; it should be more or less a straight shot northeast to reach the Steppe, but there's no telling how rough the terrain will get."

 

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Roen pursed her lips in thought. She had to admit that the prospect of possibly riding a horse was appealing all on its own, and it would definitely cut through the travel time as well. But she doubted that a village full of peasants would have a horse to spare, even if she offered them fair amount of coin. And who knows if Ashur actually could manage on a horse. He already admitted that he hadn’t really even known his bird all that well. Learning how to handle a beast he’s never been on while traveling to a possibly hostile land might not be the best idea.

 

“We go by foot.” She shrugged nonchalantly, a hint of a smirk working its way to the edge of her lips. “I think I can manage. And I imagine this would be easy for you. No snow.”

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They continued in silence for some time, Ashur having lost his appetite for idle conversation. Though Yanxia was a comfortably temperate place, at times the trail would vanish on rough hills or under foliage, and their progress had slowed considerably. Before long, the sun was threatening to dip behind the mountains and dusk was beginning to fall. A small clearing beneath a rocky cliff provided the only thing resembling adequate shelter for the evening; Ashur found that he couldn't convince himself to be satisfied with this arrangement, but nothing better was presenting itself. He could only hope that Othard's wildlife were docile, though rumours and tales of tigers and wild cloudkin had abounded in Kugane.

 

Though it would do little to deter any would-be intruders, he still took the time to set up a crude semi-circle of sticks and branches buried into the dirt and facing outward. They didn't have anything that could rattle or make sound for an early warning system, but then this wasn't Dravania; perhaps such things weren't necessary. "I hope sleeping on the dirt suits you," Ashur grunted as he rolled a hefty boulder to the outskirts of the tiny camp. It wasn't like they were travelling all this way to enjoy the luxuries, after all, and Ashur had no idea what experience Roen had with campaigning in such conditions.

 

If they were lucky, the rest of the trek would be this smooth. If they were unlucky, well...

 

A loud cry, like some kind of beastkin--or perhaps someone with a particularly guttural way of shouting--split the air, as if to punctuate Ashur's thoughts.

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Roen was folding her cloak in semblance of a makeshift pillow, half watching him build a protective blockade of sort around them. It wasn’t much, but perhaps it would at least deter any wandering wildlife, she supposed. He was a diligent fellow, at least.

 

She was about to make some comment on sleeping in the wilderness when the abrupt noise broke the quiet. Roen immediately reached for her weapon and shield, half rising to her feet as she did so. Grey eyes narrowed as she tried to make out any signs of movement in the shadows that were quickly lengthening around them.

 

“What was that?” she hissed in Ashur’s direction, without sparing him a glance.

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"Not our problem," Ashur grunted in response, adjusting to find a comfortable position to sleep, though he kept both the handgun and the shortsword nearby. What did she take him for, some kind of adventurer that sought out every problem he could think of? No, if whatever that was intended to bother them, he'd cross that bridge when he got there. As it stood, he didn't have enough of a grasp of the continent to feel comfortable poking his nose in other people's business, and even if he did he might not be inclined to intervene anyway. Looking for trouble was the last thing on his mind right now. "If you're keen on it, then you go find whatever it was."

 

--

 

"I told you not to look at it," the Xaela said nonchalantly. She was sitting around the small campfire, her knees up to her chest and her arms folded into wide, fur-trimmed sleeves. "You Westerners have a phrase, don't you? Curiosity and the coeurl." She sighed, raising an idle finger to lightly rub the side of her horns. These foreigners are all the same.

 

Across from her was a Duskwight Elezen, rolling on the ground in a particularly comical fashion, with another Duskwight attempting to frantically bury something into the dirt by the fire.. Less comical, however, was the way the Elezen was grasping and clawing at his eyes, or the way acrid black smoke seemed to seep through his fingers as he groaned and thrashed about. "What in the hells was that!?" one of the Elezen half-moaned and half-screamed--she couldn't be bothered to keep track of which one, finding the embers of the fire much more fascinating.

 

"Something you should probably not have involved yourself with," she replied coolly. The Xaela made a mental note of where they were burying the piece of glassy obsidian, not that it really mattered anyway. The rune carved onto it glowed with a soft light that seemed to go unnoticed by her terrified companions anyway; it'd be a simple matter to retrieve it later.

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Roen shot a sharp glare in Ashur’s direction.

 

“It may not be our problem, but someone might need our help.” Roen waited awhile longer to make certainly whatever the source of the noise was, wasn’t seeking them out. She narrowed her eyes, trying to look about to see where it could have even come from. It was getting dark and quick, finding her way around might become more difficult longer she waited.

 

But as Ashur made no move but to get himself further situated on the ground, Roen shook her head and began to cautiously make her way to the barrier he had erected. “Well, I intend to go find out. If this is trouble that would soon find us, I would rather know what it is beforehand and be ready for it.” She secured the sword by her hip and grabbed her her shield before she ducked out of the camp.

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The Xaela sighed, running a finger through her dreadlocks. Her iron-coloured skin looked somewhat ominous in the warm glow of the fire, matching her disdainful gaze. The white-haired Duskwight just finished burying the piece of obsidian into the dirt, while the red-haired one, while he was no longer thrashing and rolling on the ground, still kept his hands clasped in front of his eyes as the occasional wisp of smoke dashed merrily into the air. In other words, these two would be thoroughly useless to her. Nevermind about taking them north; she doubt they would even survive on the gentlest slopes of the Steppe, much less the glacier she intended to reach.

 

The white-haired Elezen turned around to face her, jabbing his finger at the spot where he'd buried the obsidian shard. "What kind of foul magicks is this?" he demanded indignantly. She could tell his tone was tinged with apprehension, as if asking the question would cause him to meet the same fate as his now-blind companion. She merely shrugged in response. "A foul magic. I do not think I can be any more specific."

 

The first Elezen could do little more than futilely try to soothe the agony of his pained counterpart, before snapping a glare at the Xaela sitting at the fire. "This is not what we agreed to, even less if you cannot or will not tell me what befell my kin! Find your own way. We are leaving in the morning," the white-haired Duskwight hissed in a tone that made it emphatically clear that the Xaela would not be accompanying them.

 

Again, she shrugged. This was the fourth useless pair she'd burned through. While she wasn't about to lament the loss of such incompetent help, it would mean having to go further and further out to find others. And thinking of new ways to get them to sign on. Least of all if these two actually went back and made a fuss about things. The Xaela dug into her fur-trimmed robes and pulled out another shard, tossing it idly in the white-haired Elezen's direction.

 

"Look out," she said in a tone of boredom. For a split second, the Elezen glanced towards the piece of obsidian flying his way, and in a fraction of that second saw the multi-coloured rune traced on its surface.

 

Another bright flash, as brilliant as a hundred or a thousand suns, briefly permeated the camp.

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It was just to her left.

 

At first, when Roen started out into the darkness away from the protection of their camp, she wasn’t quite sure where to go. The sound had been clear enough to cut through the night’s ambiance, and yet the crisp air had carried it from far enough that it came from nowhere near the cliffside where she and Ashur had decided to settle down for the night.

 

But if what she heard was indeed due to distress of some kind, then it was a good bet that it would not be the only noise that would be heard. And sure enough, she heard something quieter once she started to listen for it. It sounded like arguing or someone being angry. She wasn’t sure. Roen scanned the dark horizon, and what came next was even better than another howl. It was a flash of light.

 

Even while Roen hurried toward the source, she took care in being as quiet as possible in her approach. She was silently grateful now that she wasn’t wearing her usual heavy armor laden with metal and chain. She wasn’t sure what she would be finding when she reached the source of the disturbance, and it was obvious even from this distance that this was no natural light, but one that shined as bright as a star. It was magic. And she wasn’t eager to present herself prematurely to whoever was wielding it.

 

If there was a magic user and someone else was crying out in pain… well, it certainly spelled trouble.

 

Roen quickened her pace, but stayed low, letting both the darkness and the Yanxian foliage hide her as best as she can.

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Both Elezen were now unconscious on the dirt. The magic didn't kill them, but they would be disabled for a little while, and more importantly, they won't remember what she looked like other than the fact that she was a Xaela. In an act of what she considered a mocking courtesy, the Xaela at least pulled the unconscious Elezen closer to the fire and took a minimum amount of care to make sure they weren't set upon by the local wildlife, adorning the campsite with various small talismans and trinkets. Then again, if they ended up being eaten in the night, that wouldn't exactly be the worst outcome for her either.

 

She sighed again, sitting down by the fire. Now what? She'd have to go get a few more mercenaries. These foreigners increasingly seemed priced above their actual value.  This pair hadn't even made it to the Steppe.

 

As if in response, one of the Elezen groaned, reaching an arm out to flail for...something. "Oh, you're still awake," the Xaela remarked lightly. She shifted her seat away from the groaning Elezen, tucking her knees to her chest. "Somewhat noteworthy. You fared better than your counterpart, at least."

 

"Ugh...h-help.." the Elezen managed to groan, causing the Xaela to scratch one of her horns. "I'm sure some help will be here for you soon." Her tone was deadpan, as if she didn't really believe what she was saying.

 

 

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Roen was tempted to rush in as soon as she reached the scene surrounding the camp fire.

 

But she remained hidden in the shadows afforded by a boulder, warily watching what was happening. The fact that there was a Xaela here in Yanxia was a surprise, and the woman was dragging the other two males closer to the fire. She didn’t seem to be robbing them nor harming them, at least currently. But undoubtedly the Au Ra was the source of the flare Roen had seen earlier, and her calm disposition around the two incapacitated Elezens told Roen that the petite female was probably more capable than she looked.

 

Was she being robbed? Was it self defense? Were the Elezens also mercenaries hired by the Redeemers? Or were they just innocent bystanders attacked by the woman? The latter didn’t quite make sense, since she seemed to be at least making the effort to see to their comforts.

 

But when one of the Elezens reached out weakly calling for help, Roen stood from her place of hiding. She couldn’t very well ignore the call for aid, and she still had no idea what had happened here. She hoped straightforward approach would be received well enough.

 

“Do you need assistance?” she called out in a calm manner, keeping her sword sheathed for now.

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The Xaela gave an askance look at the newcomer, pointing a nonchalant finger at the Elezen. "Are you asking them, or are you asking me?" she asked somewhat pointedly. The Elezen groaned again but soon stopped moving, apparently having fallen unconscious once again. The Xaela poked the Elezen with an idle foot, and garnering no response, merely sighed. "Well, if you were asking them, then they're not inclined to answer you any time soon. They're fine. They'll be awake tomorrow." Well, most likely. There was no guarantee, but that wasn't exactly her problem anymore.

 

She ran another hand through her matted dreadlocks. Who was this, anyway? A traveler? A mercenary? Someone else? She clearly didn't know these Elezen or her reaction to their predicament wouldn't be so muted.

 

"I wasn't expecting anyone else here," the Xaela remarked dryly. She glanced at the sword at the stranger's side. "I hope you have no intention of using that."

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Roen narrowed her eyes on the Xaela first, before she flicked her gaze toward the two unconscious males. “By the look of things, I think it is obvious who needs assistance here.” She tapped her finger on the hilt of her sword once, but did not draw it. “I am going to approach. Do not give me a reason to use my weapon.”

 

It was more of a warning rather than a request, as she began to take cautious steps toward the camp. She kept her eyes on the Xaela while the view of the unconscious figures remained in her periphery. She kept her tone even, without any hint of a threat. She didn’t know what exactly happened here after all, and until she did, she would keep things as unbiased as possible.

 

“So. Can you tell me what happened?’

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The Xaela shrugged. "They tried to go through my things. I warned them not to. I keep some magical baubles on me that don't respond well to being handled poorly." She gave this new Hyur a cursory inspection. The newcomer wore her equipment with ease and didn't seem to be as...bumbling as these other two Elezen. Though, appearances could deceive. And there was also the issue that she didn't know what this newcomer was even doing here in this part of the Yanxian wilderness.

 

"Were there a more interesting tale to spin I might have spun it for you, but there's not much more to it." Though her night vision was quite excellent, the Xaela made a show of squinting in curiosity anyway. "As for you? I was under the impression this was not a popular path for...travelers. A mercenary? Another bandit? Are you, perhaps, for hire?"
 

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Roen relaxed a bit more when the Xaela made no move. She came to kneel next to the two Elezens as she listened, flicking a glance in the Xaela's direction when the other seemed to indicate a possible robbery. Pulling off her gloves, she reached for the man’s neck to feel for a pulse there, before gently turning him onto his back to scan his possessions. She was interested to see how he was armed, and if he was a foreigner. Considering he was an Elezen, she was already suspicious that he might have hailed from Ishgard.

 

She was reaching to check the second man when the Xaela turned the question back her way, although it was the very final one that made her pause and give the woman a quizzical arch of the brow.

 

“We--I was camped nearby. I…” Roen pursed her lips, annoyed with herself. “My companion and I are on our way to the Steppe.” She paused, finally giving the Xaela woman a more careful study. There was some hesitation that held her tongue, but deception never being Roen’s strong suit, she groaned at the abundance of mistrust that was annoyingly buzzing around in her head. She shook them away.

 

“We are not looking for a job,” she began forthrightly, then paused, narrowing her eyes. “Although we wouldn’t mind some assistance in dealing with the Xaela at the Reunion.” She looked to the Au Ra pointedly. “What are you looking to hire people for?”

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"Depends on what you can do," the Xaela said idly, twirling a black lock around her finger. Her green gaze was marked with some vague curiosity, the way one might look at a mutant fruit or a presumably vulgar hand gesture whose meaning escaped the person it was intended to offend. She glanced at the two Duskwight on the ground. Aside from their simple chainmail and swords, she wondered if they and this newcomer were from the same place. Not that it really mattered anyway; the Western continent was a place of variety if nothing else. "If you can fight, that's good. If you can use magic, even better."

 

The Xaela raised an eyebrow. "And if you can do what I say when I say it--such as, not picking through my possessions--then that would certainly be best." She made a show of standing up slowly and dusting off her fur-trimmed robes. "If you're going to Reunion, then I suppose I'm headed in the same direction. Perhaps you might say I'm looking for an escorts of sorts, to a place a bit further north than the Steppe."

 

"What, if I may ask, are you looking for at Reunion? Particularly something that you would need help with? The Qestir take some adjusting, but even a foreigner would be able to navigate their customs if they were gifted with a modicum of the mind. Which I presume you are." The Xaela pursed her lips, leaning her austere face against a hand.

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Roen went back to checking the second Elezen. They both seemed to be breathing evenly, and she couldn’t see any signs of active bleeding. But she gave him a look over to see if she can figure what it was that exactly that left them in their current condition.

 

She brought one knee before her, resting an elbow over it as she gave the Xaela a sidelong glance. From what she had seen in the distance, there was a bright unnatural light which made her suspect, thaumaturgy. Roen wasn’t sure, she wasn’t exactly learned when it came to other schools of magic. Still, while she maintained a neutral tone to the woman, there was no lack of caution.

 

“I am looking for a friend.” She dipped her head after a thought. “Or more accurately, my friend’s people. I do not know if he would actually be at the Reunion.” It was highly unlikely after all. And she was not even sure how many tribes there were, or how well they all knew each other. The intricacies of the Xaela culture was not something other people seemed to be too fluent in.  She turned to the woman, looking at her earnestly.

 

“Would you happen to know of a tribe that has warriors who called themselves the Khadai?”

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The Xaela's face was dispassionate, as if carved out of wood. If such info surprised her, she didn't show it. The Au Ra merely raised an eyebrow, the limbal rings of her eyes shimmering in the darkness with a blazing green hue. "You are looking for quite the obscure group, I see. I suppose that would explain why you need assistance. As it happens, I do know a little of them, though they are rare in the south."

 

She clasped her hands together behind her waist and slowly began pacing back and forth in front of the fire. "I'm curious to know why you are looking for such an isolated tribe, though. They are not the kind to make trouble for others and so they are even less of the kind to invite trouble upon themselves in the form of foreigners."

 

A rustle in the underbrush behind the newcomer caused the Xaela to flinch, instinctively reaching a hand into the sleeves of her robe. A few seconds later, a second Hyur emerged with wild sand-coloured hair, armed with a curious weapon that looked like one of the Garlean's firearms. He grunted as he slapped an idle branch away from his face.

 

"You were taking too long," Ashur somewhat mildly, before shooting a narrow glance at the Xaela across from the campfire.

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Roen glanced over her shoulder, and there was an inkling of a smile that tugged on one corner of her lips. He was worried after all. She held up a hand to Ashur then to the Xaela woman.

 

“He is with me,” she reassured in a calm voice, to quell any alarm or rash actions either of them might take. “The companion I mentioned earlier.” She regarded the Xaela woman a moment longer to make certain there wouldn’t be any more blinding flashes before she turned her attention to Ashur. “These two were trying to go through her things, so I was told. But they are alive.” She left it at that, she still wasn’t sure why they were unconscious.

 

Which made her look back to the Xaela again, her eyes squinting with some wariness. “And she is also traveling to the Reunion. And as we are. As for why we are seeking this particular tribe…” She paused to consider her words carefully. “There are a few reasons. I would like to make certain my friend returned safely to his people. And... also to give him a warning.”

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The Xaela again folded her arms into the wide sleeves of her robe. This wasn't the first Xaela Ashur had ever seen, but he found himself instinctively uncomfortable with the way she fixated her focused stare on him. Perhaps it was merely the way the darkness served as apt contrast to the bright limbal rings around her eyes, or perhaps it was her demeanour and how--despite being greeted by two armed and armoured strangers--she didn't seem to perceive either one of them as a possible threat. The Xaela was, if anything, too relaxed.

 

"A friend? And a foreigner, at that. Unlikely, though I suppose not impossible." The Xaela pursed her lips together in curiosity. "And a warning. Might I ask as to the nature of this warning? Is this a threat posed by someone else, or perhaps posed by yourself? You are quite...loyal to pursue him so far that you were willing to trek to their lands without guidance to give them this warning. Such omens must be ominous, indeed."

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