Chugging away on this, hoping to get up to HW by the end of the month. Of course, that means first getting through Bahamut (synced! if possible!) and Crystal Tower (will be tricky to fit in all my planned cameos).
Rinala and F’lhaminn kind of ran away with my imagination here, which I think is really sweet.
Chapter 8: Business As Usual
“Ul’dah is our home, Alphinaud!” Minfilia protested vehemently. “To cast aside everything we have built and start anew in that desolate wasteland would be beyond reckless!”
“Oi,” Tam said. “Mor Dhona isn’t a wasteland.”
“The decision is yours to make, Antecedent,” Alphinaud answered smoothly, ignoring Tam. “I ask only that you recall the shared purpose which first moved us to found the Scions of the Seventh Dawn – and which moved you to found the Path of the Twelve ere that. We aspire to an ideal, you and I, just as my grandfather did. That makes us more than mere comrades-in-arms. We are as much your family as-”
Minfilia turned away quickly. “That will be all, Alphinaud.” Her voice was steady, but Rinala could only imagine her face.
Outside, Alphinaud crossed his arms and pouted. “Confound it. She knows what must be done, and still she hesitates.”
“Why does she wish to stay in Ul’dah?” Achiyo asked. “Is there someone here she does not wish to leave?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Alphinaud said. “Minfilia’s mother – well, adoptive mother – was among the great many who perished during the Calamity. F’lhaminn was her name, though you may know her better as the ‘Songstress of Ul’dah’-”
Rinala gasped. “The Songtress of Ul’dah!? She was Minfilia’s mother?”
“Ah, so you know of her?” Alphinaud said, with mild curiosity.
He wasn’t trying to be arrogant, but she didn’t like the way he asked, either. “Yes! She’s been my inspiration ever since I was a little girl! She’s the reason I learned to dance!” She’d given up her dream of ever dancing for the Songstress when she heard that she died in the Calamity, and changed to becoming a conjurer rather than be counted among the numerous Miqo’te dancers already in Ul’dah, many of whom did not earn their coin simply by dancing.
“Then you know she was a performer of singular talent, and much beloved by the people of Eorzea – not to mention a certain Sharlayan minstrel.” He had turned back to expositing towards Achiyo and Tam, yet she felt her tail twitch in misgiving. Did he mean Thancred? Who else could he mean? Thancred loved the Songstress? Well, but that was all right, she loved the Songstress, too, everyone did. Except Alphinaud seemed to be implying Thancred had a crush on the Songstress… oh dear, what was her heart going to do with this information?
“As you may imagine, the news of her passing was greeted with shock and disbelief by her adoring followers, many of whom refused to acknowledge what had happened. That her body was never found only served to encourage speculation. Minfilia, too, struggled at first to accept the truth, but as F’lhaminn’s absence stretched from months to years, she saw that there could be no other explanation. Until recently, at any rate.”
Rinala’s ears and tail perked up. “You don’t mean…”
Alphinaud nodded. “For whatever reason, rumours have once again begun to circulate that F’lhaminn is alive and well. Alas, they have served to rekindle an irrational hope in Minfilia which now clouds her judgement. This talk of Ul’dah as our home, and of the insurmountable difficulties of moving to Mor Dhona – it is no more than an expression of her unwillingness to let go. Nonsense, in a word. But until the tales of F’lhaminn’s miraculous preservation have been categorically disproved, I fear she will remain lost to reason.”
“And what if they’re true!?” Rinala declared with some spark. “It’s not impossible!”
“But what reason would she have-”
“I believe it!” Rinala said. “It must be her! I’m going to find her! For Minfilia!” She was lit up from eartip to tailtip, glowing with excitement. Perhaps if someone like Achiyo had told her that it wasn’t true, she would have believed them soberly. But since Alphinaud thought it was false, and in such a condescending manner, too, she thought he was wrong.
Tam snorted. “You’ll need help for that, little one. A direction to start, for instance. Alphinaud, what sort of tales have you heard regarding this Songstress?”
Alphinaud shrugged, leaving the investigation in her eager hands. “One of the most recent of this latest crop of rumours comes to us by way of Father Iliud. If you would speak to him, I shall look into another alleged sighting and follow anon.”
Rinala cheered and turned to rush off, hearing Tam chuckle behind her, and Achiyo make an alarmed sound. Well, they could come if they liked.
R’nyath’s ears twitched, and he scratched one of them, as he regarded the undead before them. “Huh?”
“I am confused,” Kekeniro said from beside him. “I thought undead were sustained by a desire unfulfilled in this life?”
“Maybe?”
“Why are they flexing? Why are they all flexing? Who would deny death for the purpose of flexing?”
“Yeah?” Vivienne clocked him in the head. “Ow!”
“Stop being monosyllabic,” said the Duskwight. “These undead are repugnant in manner and smell. Hurry up and help me destroy them.”
“Yes’m,” R’nyath said obediently, and nocked an arrow as she leaped ahead to Unleash upon a large group of the zombies.
Yes, there in the undergrowth was a silver-haired Miqo’te woman picking bunches of the big blue flowers – and a goobbue plodding towards her from behind! Rinala yelled, throwing up a barrier around the woman and casting Aero on the giant as quickly as she could. Then Tam, Achiyo, and Kekeniro’s Ifrit-egi crashed past her and into the goobbue. It was dead within seconds.
The woman, a hand pressed to her heart, regarded them all breathlessly. “I am in your debt, strangers. I did not realize my activities had aroused the goobbue’s ire until it was too late.”
“Are you Lady F’lhaminn?” Rinala burst out eagerly, her heart fit to pound its way out of her chest. If it wasn’t her… after all that searching… But her voice! Her voice was so beautiful, even when speaking! So measured, gentle, melodious… a trained singer’s voice, surely!
The woman frowned. “F’lhaminn? I’m… I don’t…” Her gaze turned hard and hostile. “Who are you? Whom do you serve?”
A crashing through the undergrowth drew their attention to Alphinaud, wading awkwardly through the tall grasses, pushing shrubbery branches out of his face. “Typical. Of all the many leads, yours obviously had to be the one which bore fruit. I don’t know why I bother…”
“What, and leave it to chance?” Tam asked, eyebrow raised.
Alphinaud regarded him thoughtfully for a half-second, then turned to the woman. “The Songstress of Ul’dah, I presume? Minfilia – or should I say, Ascilia – is looking for you.”
“Ascilia!?” F’lhaminn’s eyes widened in surprise, and hope. Rinala looked from one to the other, most confused.
“You are the very picture of health, milady – yet the world thinks you dead. I can only conclude that this was by design. The question is: why?”
F’lhaminn made a melancholy smile. “Not everyone who endeavours to find me does so with the best intentions, child. You will be pleased to know that I fully intend to reveal myself to Minfilia – when the time is right.”
Alphinaud looked taken aback, and slightly awkward, for the first time since Rinala had met him. “Oh! Well… that does please me. More than you know. But tell me: sojourns in the forests of La Noscea aside, when exactly will the time be right?”
“When I deem it so,” said Minfilia’s adopted mother firmly. “Do you imagine I traveled all this way on a whim? As I was going to tell your associates prior to your intrusion, I came here to harvest these flowers for use in a perfume. Does that satisfy your curiosity, or would you interrogate me further?”
Alphinaud blushed. “M-my apologies for the interruption. Anyway – now that we all have that which we came for, might we continue this conversation in a safer locale? Wineport, say?”
Rinala, suddenly faced with the prospect of walking beside the woman who had inspired her at the age of six, flushed bright pink and tried to hide behind Tam – who was suddenly and deftly somewhere else. She looked beseechingly towards Achiyo and Kekeniro, who simply smiled and gestured that she go on. So she took a place beside F’lhaminn, clutching her staff and feeling quite tongue-tied.
F’lhaminn smiled at her. “The way you greeted me – have we met before? Forgive me, but what is your name?”
“Ah… err… I’m Rinala, and in a manner of speaking?” Rinala squeaked out. “I was six…”
“I see… was that the only time, then?”
“Yes…” Rinala looked at her sandals. “But you and your singing inspired me greatly!”
F’lhaminn smiled as if that had made her the happiest person in the world. “I’m glad! I loved to touch hearts with my songs. I still do, in fact, though I’ve had to be very careful of late. It seems I slipped a little. But what did you do with that inspiration?”
“I learned to dance,” Rinala mumbled. “I always wanted to meet you again and maybe dance to your singing. It’s a silly thing to wish for, but…”
“Not at all,” F’lhaminn said. “Perhaps I can sing for you soon. But I see you are also a conjurer?”
“Oh… well… When I heard that you had died… I didn’t want to be a dancer as a profession, you see, only so that I could meet you again. I also wanted to help people, so I travelled to Gridania to learn conjury. And it seemed the moment I returned to Ul’dah, I got… swept up in… things.”
“I may have heard a little bit about that,” F’lhaminn told her, smiling secretively. “How nice, to be saved by famous heroes!”
Rinala turned quite pink and clutched her cane tighter.
She tried to stay out of the way when they returned to the Waking Sands, as Minfilia and her mother needed and ought to spend much time together, but F’lhaminn didn’t forget her, either, and asked her to run a particular errand for her – getting her earrings mended in Ul’dah. Happy to be of service to her idol, Rinala set off immediately, and though such a simple errand turned into slightly less of a simple errand, she was back within two days.
F’lhaminn received the earrings back with a misty, emotional look. “Rinala, I… Thank you. They sparkle as they did the day Nielle gave them to me. …My Nielle, who sleeps even now – looking for all the world as if that cursed blade had taken his young life mere moments ago… not years. Ye gods, I could almost bear it if he were truly gone… but here he lingers. Can the soul be at peace while the flesh yet remains? Every day I pray that he has entered Thal’s realm. I pray and I pray and I pray.” She looked up at Rinala, tears brimming in her wise coral eyes. “To love is to lose, child. One can but postpone the moment of parting.”
“What do you mean?” Rinala asked, about to cry too – F’lhaminn’s story, no matter how involuntarily told, it was so sad! And her heart jumped with worry, too. She loved, and she loved too easily, she knew. She loved where it was not wise to. And she couldn’t help loving all the same.
F’lhaminn shook her head, wiping away the tears. “It is not something I wish to explain. You will learn all too soon, with your tender heart. But my daughter, at least, will not lose me again – not for a long while yet, gods willing. Tell Ascilia that I am quite well. She should concentrate on more important matters – and so should you.”
“O-okay,” Rinala said, turning reluctantly to go.
“Ah, but – you said you wished to dance with me, yes? This evening, after the evening meal, you will be free, yes?”
“Ah! Yes, if it’s not a bother!”
F’lhaminn shook her head. “I’ve been more than a bother to you, and to sing for you is a pleasure. I will see you then.”
Rinala could hardly concentrate on the rest of the day, so abuzz was her head and heart with anticipation. She delivered her message to Minfilia, and then rushed away – she had things to prepare.
She took the ferry home to the Silver Bazaar, silently wishing the boat would go faster, and returned with her parents and a bundle. When she asked if it was okay that her parents be there, F’lhaminn laughed and said it was quite all right. Even so, she could hardly eat at the evening meal, her stomach full of nerves. She hadn’t truly practiced her dancing in a while… she’d danced for fun, sometimes, but what if she stepped wrong? What if she got so nervous she fell down?
“Hey,” R’nyath said, from beside her. “I don’t know what bee’s gotten into your bonnet, but it’ll be all right.”
“Hmm, I think I know what’s about,” Y’shtola said from her other side. “At least drink some water, Rinala. It will help with the lightheadedness.” She knew that, they were both conjurers.
“Ahaaa,” Thancred drawled, from a little further down the table. “I see. I am looking forward to it!” And he beamed at her.
Wary from Alphinaud’s words before, she glanced at him, trying to find if he were more pleased at the thought of hearing F’lhaminn, or at the thought of seeing her dance – hopefully not at the thought of hearing her sing! – but gave up the effort as futile after a moment. He was happy for both of them, and she would take that with all her heart.
After dinner, they cleared a slightly larger space in the middle of the common room. Thancred had produced a large lute from somewhere, and was sitting off to the side, waiting. F’lhaminn glanced at the assembly, then shook her head with a smile. “I suppose it was only to be expected. What is that you have there?”
“Ah… dancing clothes. I won’t be a moment.” There was a screen in the corner, and she changed quickly, with shaking hands.
When she emerged, barefoot, clad in midnight blue satin in the Thavnairian style, her blue tresses hanging loose and unbraided, the hushed conversation fell to anticipatory silence. For a long moment she froze, her eyes darting across them all. How presumptuous this was of her, to wish to dance for the Songstress of Ul’dah, as if a little girl like her could live up to a legend!
Then F’lhaminn took a step forward, opened her mouth, and began to sing.
For a moment, Rinala stood transfixed, on the verge of tears just from the richness of her tone, the beauty of the simple melody, the way it resonated through the stone room. Then she closed her eyes, breathed, and took a step of her own.
The song carried her, effortlessly; she no longer feared, recalling every bit of joy she’d ever had in motion-through-music, swirling her gracefully across the open space. It wasn’t Rinala who danced there, but a shining collection of feelings, completely lost in the sound and her physical interpretation of it.
She nearly missed when F’lhaminn made a nod to Thancred, who bent his head over his lute and began to pluck out some accompanying notes, the deeper notes throbbing under F’lhaminn’s glorious mezzo-soprano. And Urianger, coming to stand next to him with a little flute, joined in too. Thancred put back his head and began to sing a quiet harmony to F’lhaminn’s melody, and Rinala gasped in pleasure – she hadn’t heard his singing voice before, and it was very lovely in its own right.
Then she caught sight of Tam swaying with the music, as if he couldn’t help himself. None of them could, and she couldn’t blame them. Could she invite them to join in dancing, the way F’lhaminn had invited Thancred and Urianger to the music?
She held out her hand to Tam, who grinned and came to take her hand with a low, courtly bow. His dancing was very different from any she’d seen before, yet he made it fit with hers so perfectly. She supposed that with five thousand years, he might be pretty good at it. The others hardly needed invitation after that. Her parents were dancing with each other, tails intertwined; R’nyath, Chuchupa, Yda, and Y’shtola were moving out to join them, Minfilia and Tataru and Alphinaud, and surprisingly, Vivienne as well. So too were several of the Scion guards who were still present at this late hour. Even Achiyo and Kekeniro, who swore up and down that they couldn’t dance, and Papalymo, who didn’t want to dance, were nodding their heads to the beat. And Aentfryn, crusty old Aentfryn, he was smiling, with suspiciously moist eyes.
And the most beautiful voice in all the world washed over them, helping them forget all their worries, just for a little while.
After a while, Thancred passed the lute to Tam, who carried on as if there had been no interruption, his bass voice taking over the harmony from Thancred’s baritone, and now Thancred was mingling among the dancers, dancing near to her. Did she dare hope? Would he dance with her, as she had wished ever since they met? He took Yda’s hand, Y’shtola’s… then hers, twirling her around with such dexterous assurance her face hurt from smiling up at him. He smiled down at her, his dark eyes soft and fond. She was pleased to be able to match him step for step, because he was certainly as light on his feet on the dance floor as he was on the battlefield.
She only spent a few minutes in his arms before he was off again, dancing with Minfilia, but those few minutes were some of the most blissful she’d ever had. And she wasn’t alone for long; R’nyath gave up trying to lure Achiyo into the throng and came to move with her. He was fun to dance with, too, but she saw her parents looking at her and moved to dance with them, into the warm embrace of family.
Achiyo poked her head into the Horizon barracks office, and both saw and heard Tam there, rustling through piles of paper and humming softly to himself. “There you are.”
“Hmm? Hmm. Did you need me?”
“No, just wondering where you were.” He often disappeared, sometimes for hours or days at a time, and she never pried, but she worried a little about him. Even though he was supposedly far older than her, and was certainly very good at taking care of himself, he was even more of an outsider than she was. And sometimes she wondered if he was all right emotionally… did he really have anything to fight for, here? “You seem…cheerful, even though you’re cooped up in here.”
“Did someone say I was cooped?” Tam said. “Is it such a dreadful, unusual thing for me to be cheerful?”
“Not at all,” she answered. A cheerful Tam, though often just as sarcastic and cryptic as uncheerful Tam, was far preferable to Tam wearing a false mask of normalcy. “What are you doing, if I may ask?”
“Hunting down the details of these crystal shipments,” he answered. “So nice to be analyzing paperwork that could lead to stabbing monsters. I figured it out already, though.”
She looked perplexed at him. “But Thancred only just found out that it wasn’t the Amalj’aa.”
“Yes, and who does that leave?” He looked at her and suddenly his entire face changed. Had all his cheer simply been another disguise? No, he had simply changed moods that quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t tell you this; this isn’t my land, and telling you the answer would be cheating.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said.
“How are you going to figure anything out if I do it for you?” he chided. “But think about it. The only reason I’ve ever been told someone would need a large number of crystals is for mass-produced crafting… or summoning a primal. The Amalj’aa are not in possession of a large number of crystals, we have ascertained. The Ixal, neither – and I doubt the Sylphs would either come in force to Thanalan, or use go-betweens. The Kobolds will not leave their land, and no one would do it for them either. So, who is left?”
She thought. “Of beast tribes? The Sahagin, mayhap? But this is only a guess, isn’t it?”
“It’s a damn good guess, considering the crystals don’t seem to have been left in the country,” Tam said. “So, yes, the Sahagin. They have thralls of men, don’t they? I did some poking in Urianger’s library and found that their particular primal is a sea serpent named Leviathan.”
“Yes,” she said. She’d heard rumours and stories when she first came to Limsa Lominsa, of the terrible sea serpent that had devastated the coastline briefly shortly after the Calamity and then disappeared without a trace. “But if you already know, there’s a good chance we can prevent its being summoned at all, and then we don’t have to fight it, correct?”
“Mm.” His gaze was evaluating her, and she wasn’t sure why. “As I said, I wouldn’t normally tell you. But I know enough about teamwork that I know you need to know about my… problem.”
“What problem?” she asked, sitting down across the desk and leaning forward attentively. Perhaps she should have said ‘which problem’ – no, that was unkind.
Tam’s gaze slid away from hers, face stony. “I… don’t like water.”
She blinked. “I don’t understand.” She hadn’t expected that. Her own element was water. Was that…?
“I can’t be in it. I simply can’t. I cease to function as a person. Catatonic, I believe the word is. And if we’re fighting a water primal in or around water…”
“I see,” she said, though she didn’t quite. “Water can be a harsh element sometimes. The sea is violent and unforgiving except on the kindest of days.”
“Water is a harsh element always,” Tam said, with a slight edge in his voice. She stiffened in resistance. “Sea or lake or stream or rain, even while it gives us life, it destroys it as well. It is not gentle.”
“I disagree,” she said sternly. “Water is the most gentle, the least destructive of all the elements.”
He gave her a mirthless smirk. “And the most insidious besides air. Don’t ask me to explain why I have such a reaction. I have no answer for you, only that it is something I’ve worked around for many, many years.”
“Very well. Perhaps there will be something else that needs to be fought, should it come to it.”
“The primals we’ve been facing have been getting stronger. The beast tribes may think they know the measure of our strength, each time trying out outdo the last. I would have concerns about staying back just as much as coming with.” That they would be down an Echo-blessed, Hydaelyn-protected warrior? That they would need every one they could find, even if he was rendered incapacitated? She supposed that was a valid concern. “I will do my best. But just to let you know, if it comes to a fight, and if I go down in said fight, that would be likely why.”
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.
He shook his head and got back to his papers. “No, I just thought you should know. I will make my own decisions, but now you know why. Will that be sufficient?”
“Yes,” she said. “And I won’t tell the others if you don’t wish me to.”
He offered her a brief but genuine smile. “You’re a good kid.”
Flustered, she stood. “Well, if you don’t need me for anything else, I’d best be going. Thancred and Y’shtola have surely come up with an idea by now.”
“See you later,” he drawled. “I’ll be in here when you’re ready to go.”
“As ravishing as ever,” Thancred was saying to herself, gazing at F’lhaminn where she bustled in the Rising Stones’ kitchen. “Perhaps for old time’s sake, she would…”
Tam snorted from where he stood behind him, and Thancred jumped nearly a foot – or a fulm, whatever – forward. “G-gods, Tam! Don’t sneak up on me like that! We bards are an easily startled lot.”
Tam just smirked. Wasn’t his business who Thancred was dallying with, but annoying the self-proclaimed suave man was funny. “Perhaps you should not tunnel vision on the closest woman, then.”
Thancred glared mildly and gesticulated. “That’s all very well for you to say, ser! You have feet like a cat!”
“They used to say that about me all the time back home, you know,” Tam said. “But how do the Miqo’te feel about it?”
“How do the- what? I’m sure they don’t feel anything about it.”
“I suppose that’s the point of cat-feet,” Tam sighed, enjoying Thancred’s squint of utter incomprehension.
The youth shook his fluffy white head and wandered off, mumbling to himself about nonsensical not-elezen.
The Forgotten Knight was dark, damp, and dingy as always, but a table by the fire was usually open and it was convenient to the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly, so Aymeric visited more frequently than many would consider appropriate for his station. Haurchefant was in town, and best of all, Estinien had returned abruptly, slinking in like a cat that pretended not to care about about the house it called home. Aymeric had had a long discussion with his father about Estinien’s absence without leave, his unauthorized taking of the Eye of Nidhogg, but it had ended in Estinien’s pardon. Not that it would have gone any other way; Estinien was the best Azure Dragoon Ishgard had seen in decades, and they simply could not do without him, no matter what reckless stunts he pulled. Aymeric had mostly given up scolding his old friend; it did no good, and perhaps encouraged Estinien to do the opposite.
Aymeric settled more comfortably into the hard wooden chair and regarded his companions fondly. The Dragoon seemed oddly thoughtful, as quiet as ever but more withdrawn into his own mind, looking down at his drink without seeming to acknowledge the presence of the others. Haurchefant, on the other hand, was bright and cheery, even more than usual. “I hear you have news regarding your adventurer friends,” Aymeric said to him. How he longed to say ‘our adventurer friends’! But that day would surely come soon.
“Yes, I’m sorry we haven’t had the chance to talk sooner!” Haurchefant said. “But you know how it is – I’ve been busy, you’ve been busy-”
“It’s mostly me, I admit,” Aymeric said, smiling in self-deprecation. “The Dravanians press ever harder on our northern border, as well you know. But come, tell me of them.”
“They’re not like other adventurers,” Haurchefant said, folding his arms in reflection. “On first glance, perhaps, the ones I met look like any other band – a swordswoman, a healer, a lancer, and a fist-fighter – but their determination and honour set them apart, never daunted by any difficulty, always ready to help those in need. And they fight as fiercely as a dozen knights! But each of them is not only strong, but young and beautiful in his or her own way. Not to mention, the way they saved Eorzea from the Empire is truly the stuff of legend. Aye, they’re well-deserving of the title Warriors of Light.”
“Are you fond of one of them?” Aymeric asked slyly, and Haurchefant laughed as he took another drink.
“Perhaps, perhaps. But I don’t think that one feels the same for me. It’s difficult to say.”
“We must find a reason for them to ally with Ishgard, then,” Aymeric said, only partly joking. The traditional, isolationist ban upon adventurers and outsiders chafed upon him, as it did on Haurchefant and House Fortemps, and many of the younger nobles.
Haurchefant laughed again. “Were it so easy! But come, I will tell you of them. The lancer is an Elezen, I think-”
“You think?” Estinien said, looking up from his drink for the first time with a sarcastic gleam in his eye.
Haurchefant faltered. “Well, he is taller than I, and has pointed ears, but there’s just something – strange – about him. Things he knows, things he doesn’t know. He seems to be older than he looks, as well. He’s keenly intelligent, however; he was the one who cleared up Francel’s heresy charge, easy as breathing, and to talk to him is to court induction into fascinating labyrinthine discussions – not helped by his frequent non-sequiturs and mysterious smiles. Yet he’s not at all interested in politics. When he visited, we went hunting nearly every day, he’s an amazing woodsman.”
“I think I have met this man,” Estinien said, frowning. “He colours part of his hair blue, does he not? Wears a purple coat and wields a white lance? Named Tam, or some outlandish thing?”
“Yes, he does, he is,” Haurchefant said eagerly, happy that one of his friends at least was acquainted. “I suppose you met him on your travels?”
“I did,” Estinien said, and said no more.
“Well, anyway,” Haurchefant said, “the healer is a sweet lass, an azure-haired kitten deft with both a staff and a needle. She’s a bit shy, but very warm-hearted. I almost feel for her as a young sister, and once she trusts you, she’ll talk freely on anything. It’s most engaging! Then, the leader of the band is very unusual – she is an Au Ra.”
“What is an Au Ra?” Aymeric said, the foreign word feeling odd in his mouth.
“Have you not seen one before? There are a few in Eorzea besides her, some have lived here many years. She has scales upon her cheeks, and draconic horns in place of ears, and a slender white scaled tail, but she is no Dravanian, believe you me, and she proved it when we rescued Francel and when they helped Drillemont defeat the imposter. She’s from Hingashi, across the sea, yet no truer knight I think you might find in any land.”
“Hingashi? What made her come to Eorzea?” Aymeric asked.
“I asked her once, but I didn’t really get an answer,” Haurchefant said, and shrugged. “To be sure, most adventurers move about as the wind takes them, don’t they? Though she herself does not seem the type to move about without very strong cause.”
“Indeed. And the last? The fist-fighter?”
“A pirate of Limsa Lominsa, unless I miss my guess. Rough-mannered, loud, coarse – yet her loyalty to her companions is unquestionable. She looks to be an adorable Lalafell at first glance, but call her such and I believe she’d break your kneecaps – without breaking a sweat, either.”
“I shall respect her, if ever we meet,” Aymeric assured him. Estinien snorted. “If you wish to duel her, Estinien, I shall gladly watch.”
“It will be a battle for the ages,” Estinien snarked back. “Really, now, Haurchefant, they all sound like ordinary adventurers – except the perhaps-Elezen. Tam. You haven’t told us what you think of the stories about them.”
“I was getting there!” Haurchefant told him gaily. “I heard all about it from Tam himself, while we were hunting. Know you of the Ultima Weapon?”