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"So, what do you think of Tauroneo, huh?"
"Oh, come on, Edward. Are we really bored enough to start gossiping?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we are."
Leonardo shuffles in his velvet armchair, not wanting to admit that Edward has seen through him. "I think he's the strongest warrior I've ever seen out there, and we were lucky to have him at our side back at the revolution."
"No! We all know what an amazing fighter he is, but I mean... now that the fighting's over, we finally get to see everyone in a different light, y'know?"
"What do you mean?"
"Little things, like... did you know that Aran hates eating vegetables? The other day, I saw Laura chasing him down the corridor with a celery! She seemed to be having a lot of fun, actually. And oh, did you know that Jill is moving?"
"Is that so? She always seemed so proud of her hometown."
"I just keep seeing her load up her wyvern full house stuff, like chairs and whatnot... Speaking of which, when did she get all that stuff, anyway? I had no idea she had the money for all that, or the personality, but-"
"... You really just don't know that Jill works as a transporter, huh, you ignoramus?"
"Oh! Gosh, I never would've guessed!"
The two freedom-fighters-that-were laugh carefree, tapping their arms on luxurious cushions.
"There's the thing about Tauroneo, though..." Edward's tone seems less light as he reintroduces the subject. "He's the same as he was back at the war. Every quirk, every gesture... It's like he's still fighting a war."
"Don't read too much into it. He's a busy man -- there's not many people like him left in Daein, so he's the only one who can offer Pel- His Majesty the perspective of experience. I'd think he's at work every mark of the day, basically."
"Sure, but being super busy is still a lot different from fighting for your life. Don't you find it a bit strange that he hasn't mellowed out even a little?"
"It makes sense, if you give it some thought." A third voice snuck into the room. "These have past several years have been busy times for military men in Daein, even before the Mad King's War. If you spend all of your time thinking about battle, you start to forget what it means to be at peace."
"Are you always eavesdropping on our conversations, Nolan?" Leonardo shoots a critical glance in the direction of the doorway.
"Hey, now! Sometimes, I, too, am bored enough to start gossiping, eh?"
"Ha! Don't mind him, Nolan, you can gossip with us anytime."
"I should hope that 'anytime' isn't as often as we'll end up gossipping." Leonardo rises from his armchair, ostensibly reaching for something or another on a nearby mahogany desk, but also gently suggesting through his body language that he could just about exit the room at this rate.
"There's no need to be so stiff, Leonardo." Nolan's calloused hands rub the silk of his new gloves against the long hairs at the back of his head. "It's not as if we're plotting against anyone, are we? We're simply sharing the experiences we've had of other people, and there's nothing petty or embarassing about that. If anything, it's often the people we talk about, and thus better understand, who will ultimately benefit."
The room falls uncomfortably silent for a moment as Edward and Leonardo ponder Nolan's words -- and he watches their puzzled expressions with interest. A subtle grin spreads through his beard, which had grown tamer with the peace.
"Y'know, when you put it that way..." Edward speaks up again, but his tensed eyebrows give away that he's still searching for words. "We don't... I mean... Leonardo was right, Tauroneo's done so much for us, we wouldn't have made it this far without him. Maybe we should be the ones doing something for him now, instead of just sitting here talking about him."
"My thoughts exactly." And Leonardo is ever glad not to be the one who had to give them voice first. "I suppose we should show him our gratitude somehow, at least. Maybe we could buy him a gift?"
"A gift, eh..." Nolan appears to reach for a part of his mind that he hadn't properly used in a long time. "... The general is a well-to-do man, who probably doesn't want for anything that money can buy. I have to guess he'd be most likely to appreciate a gift that goes beyond that, something with sentimental value. Maybe a handcrafted item, something with more of a personal touch."
Edward and Leonardo share a mutual glance, sporting sly smiles as their minds race in the same direction.
"Aran! Aran!"
Aran's reflexive response to loud noises behind him is not surprise, but a labored sigh. He doesn't dare to turn around.
"Hey, Aran! You know this labyrinth of a place better than we do! Is there a workshop around here?"
"A workshop..." A corner of his face is seen as he starts to turn, clearly pained. "What in the world are you two planning and when did Laura put you up to it?"
"What?"
After some deliberation, Aran's expression transitions into that of someone gracefully accepting death. "... Two flights down, on the corridor to the left. Make sure you talk to the artisans about when the place is unoccupied -- you don't want to take up their space when they're working."
"... So, what were we going to make, anyway?" Edward's brand new jacket catches chalky dust as he carelessly leans on a workbench.
"We didn't think of that at all, did we." Leonardo sighs as he busily fetches materials and tools.
"I wonder what Tauroneo likes? By Ashera, I have no clue."
"Maybe we could make him a figurine of like... a shield, or a lance?"
"Aren't we trying to get the war OUT of his mind?"
"Right, right... Hmmmm." Leonardo fidgets idly with a handful of clay.
A couple of moments pass until Edward lights up with an idea. "Maybe something cool and dignified, like... a creature from legend?"
"Did you have any particular one in mind?" Leonardo turns to Edward with his arms crossed, bracing himself for whatever the next step in that plan might be.
"Nope. I bet you know more about legends and stuff than me, anyway."
Leonardo has no intention of explaining that he really does not. "I guess we could make... Have you heard of the Winter Bird?"
"Whaaat?" One of Edward's eyebrows pitches up, more in interest than in confusion.
"The story goes that, when winter begins, a great white bird flits across the sky, covering the sun and scattering its white feathers, which is why it gets cold and snowy-"
"I know about the Winter Bird, Leonardo. I was just wondering why you didn't invite me to your eighth birthday, which I'm guessing was last month.”
"Wh... I... Loo...-" Leonardo's face flushes bright red as he stammers under Edward's laughter. "It's not like I think the Winter Bird is real, alright? You wanted a mythical creature and I gave you one! And I don't see you coming up with any better ideas right about now!"
"Hey, I didn't say it was a bad idea! Who knows, it might finally bring out Tauroneo's inner child..." Edward soon realizes that what he just said in mockery could have some sort of legitimate truth value.
"Voilá!"
Hands around his waist, Leonardo gazes fondly at the finished work; certainly not as good as something an actual craftsman might have made, but however flawed, the figurine of the elegant, stark white bird inspired a swelling of pride in him.
Edward, however, eyes it with doubt.
"It's missing something."
Leonardo rolls his eyes. "And what, are you saying you can make a better one?"
"Well, I could've!” Edward raises his voice with a scoff. “Too bad Mr. Artist here was just hogging the plaster the entire time!”
"You know, if you wanted to take this seriously, you could've started at least an hour ago. At least, you could've done something more useful than sit back belting out ridiculous ideas for the statue.”
"Leonardo, it's just the Winter Bird. It's already ridiculous!"
"I thought you might've cared at all about getting Tauroneo something nice, Edward, but that's clearly not what's going on here, is it.”
"Hey, I care alright! I just think this thing could be even nicer with a tweak or two.”
"Knock yourself out then. If you've got time to play the critic, you've got time to make the statue nicer. It's not like I'm stopping you, you know.”
"Heh, is that an invitation? Great. You might want to stand back, then."
"What are you-"
With no further warning, a squall of small bags of pigment flies in the direction of the statuette. The stony white surface is covered in splatters, alongside a sizable blast zone continuing off its base and onto the workbench.
"Edward! Edward! What in Ashera's name are you doing?" Leonardo extends out a hand, but it was too late for him to stop any part of the burst of color.
"See, that's just what was missing!” Edward stands upright, ready to toss a sales pitch. “The whole bare dry whiteness thing this statue was doing before was bumming me out just from looking. Now this bird is alive!"
"The bird is supposed to be just white, you ignoramus! What kind of Winter Bird is... all of these colors at the same time?” Leonardo's eyes dramatically unfocus while he stares at the splashed figurine. “Now I'm the one who can't stand looking at it. It makes me feel sick. Thanks for doing that to my hard work."
"You're welcome! I'll even let you say that again but like you mean it, since I'm being so nice today.”
"What should I start by thanking you for, then? Committing a crime against form, or the wasting all these rare pigments that are going to cost Daein a small fortune to replace?”
"Dude, live a little. We're not at war anymore. We're big shot heroes, and I say we get to do something a little extravagantly dumb every once in a while."
"Peace or no, Edward, I don't live in your fantasy world where wasting money is fine and well."
"Which fantasy world do you live in, then, Leonardo? The one where the Winter Bird is real?”
"I'm surprised you don't believe in it, considering how childish you've been acting."
"It must be out there somewhere, since you were so concerned with making it look like the real article.”
"Hah... I knew it. You don't really care about making this gift, do you? You were only here to get in my way."
"What? I was the one who came up with this idea in the first place! If it wasn't for me, you'd have been sitting in your room grousing all day, instead of ever coming down here to make a Winter Bird for me to paint over!”
"I'd have preferred stayed in my room to ending up with this monstrosity in my hands! Like, what now, I'm supposed to take this to Tauroneo with a straight face?”
"Try a smile, Leonardo. Every once in a while, it doesn't hurt. I don't know if they teach you those things back at your fancy academy, but that's how you usually do it when you're giving someone a gift.”
"And how exactly do you propose I smile while I'm holding this atrocity? There's nothing to do about it but to cringe.”
"Go cringe in your room, then, Leonardo. I'll take this stupid thing myself while you're doing that."
"No, you will not.” Leonardo swats Edward's hand away from the statuette. “We will leave this right here and pretend it never happened. Then, someone else will walk into this workshop, assume it was just a mess some stupid kids made – not that far off from the truth, you know -- and clean it up. And then, I'll have nothing to do with it.”
"Yeah, yeah, 'someone else will clean it up'... Old habits die hard, huh, fancy noblepants?” Edward withdraws his arm with a glare. “Whatever. Fine. We might as well do it that way.”
A lone silence is broken by a precision-tempo of knocks on heavy wooden doors.
"General Tauroneo? Are you about? I'd ask for a moment, if you're not too busy."
"Is that you, Nolan? Please, do come in." Tauroneo's fingers shuffle through some papers, but the sound they make yields to the mighty creak from the doorway. “Is there something to report?”
Wearing a relaxed, but deliberately illegible expression, Nolan lets suspense hang in the air as he makes himself comfortable, closing the door behind him and taking steps farther into the long room. Tauroneo sets his papers back onto his desk and rises, pushing behind himself an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair.
“Easy, General. It's nothing so serious.” One of Nolan's arms gently shifts from its position behind his back, producing an item inscrutably wrapped in a dot-dappled cloth. “I'm just here to pass along a little gift. From the Dawn Brigade, to you.”
Tauroneo retrieves the object with both hands. Inspecting it skeptically, he backs up into an armchair laid closer to the doorway. He takes a seat at the edge of it as he starts unwrapping the gift.
As the colorful speckled surface beneat the wrapping comes into view, his expression softens.
“Ah... this is the Winter Bird, is it not?” Admiring the statuette, Tauroneo eases himself somewhat deeper into the armchair's plush stuffing.
“That may very well have been what the creators intended.” Nolan shrugs and winks. “What would you say that it is? The meaning of this piece is up to you.”
Tauroneo smiles shyly and continues inspecting the statuette, but offers no response.
“I'm no art critic, but if someone were to ask me...” Waiting for no invitation, Nolan approaches the figurine and carefully points to the contours of the pigment splatters. “I see the way many different colors – different personalities, different walks of life – collide and come together. Just like so, they form this: a magnificent bird, as sublime as the cloudy skies of a Daein winter.”
Tauroneo smirks, as if to laugh in silence, still sitting about halfway into the armchair. “Art critic or no, you've certainly got a better eye for art than I do!”
“Hey, now, don't say things like that. You don't have to interpret it the same way I do; beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Give it some thought. I'm sure you, too, can figure out what this piece means to you.”
Tauroneo holds the statuette up, as if searching for something.
“It doesn't have to be right away, eh? Leave it at your desk. Steal a glance at it, whenever you can."
For a moment, the general falls completely still, watching something flash by his eyes.
“Truth be told, Nolan... ah, where do I begin.” Tauroneo sinks all the way back to the chair, relaxing. “I don't believe I seem the type these days, but, a lifetime ago, I was a family man. I suppose that, when I think of the Winter Bird, I think of when I'd tell one of my sons that whole story. And these bold splashes of ink... well, this is probably a great deal less perceptive than the way you see them, but they rather remind me of the messes that the boys would make, from time to time.”
Nolan's signature grin flashes across his face again as he interprets each small change of tone he could pick up on. “A lifetime ago, huh? Are the boys too old for the Winter Bird now?”
“Worse.” Tauroneo's expression hardens, but he continues to talk. “I made a rather grave mistake. I didn't put them first. In so doing, I've squandered them. As far as they're concerned, they have no father. And these joys of family, that I failed to put the right value on, are nothing more than distant memories now."
"I see." Nolan's grin lies unfazed by the heavy musings. "There's something about the mistakes we make, though... if we stick around and never stop looking for it, sooner or later, we get a chance to try again. To make a better decision than the last time we tried."
Tauroneo scoffs somewhat dismissively. "That's rather optimistic. However I might want to, I don't think that the boys-"
"I wasn't talking about your sons." Nolan interrupted. "Right here, right now, someone's been thinking of you. They've been considerate enough to put all the effort and love that they did into this statue you have in your hands. That is your opportunity."
Tauroneo scratches his chin. “You said this was from the Dawn Brigade, yes? I appreciate the gesture very much, but... ah, well. I'm just a foolish old man who can't seem to move on from his past. It wouldn't be right for me to patronize my fellow soldiers simply because they happen to be younger. It just wouldn't be proper to let myself think of them as something like my old family.”
“We are a family.”
Nolan's words bring Tauroneo's eyes wide open.
“The Dawn Brigade, and all of the liberators – that's what we are. Family. So it's up to you, General, whether you'd prefer to be right and proper... or to be a family man.”
Nolan begins to walk out of the room, as inscrutably carefree as ever, while Tauroneo hesitantly grapples with his thoughts.
“If you're ready to make a choice that you'll be happier with – the ones who made this statue are Edward and Leonardo. I'd consider telling them that you liked the statue. In person.”