Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The winter sun shone brightly on the Thanalan desert. While the rest of the natives of the various towns, and even the city-state of Ul’dah, went about their business in heavy coats and scarves, Arden Ardakim did not.

As an Auri man from the Azim Steppes in Othard, he thought he’d never met a milder winter. He went about in a light tunic that left his arms bare, and smiled at anyone who asked him if he wasn't cold.

In the Waking Sands, one of the headquarters of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Thancred sat shivering in layers of clothes, curled around a large mug of hot tea. When Arden sat down nearby, Thancred said, “Looking at you makes me feel even colder.”

“We had whole summers of this same weather,” said Arden, beaming. He had cut his shaggy black hair at last, and the smaller horns on his scalp poked through the locks. The big black horns that curled about his cheeks were newly polished, and the left horn bore a fresh engraving, beside his coming of age ring.

Thancred nodded at the engraving. “What's the new thing on your horn?”

Arden fingered it with a grin. “A mark of an enemy slain, represented by a star. The more arms on the star, the fiercer the enemy. I gave it nine.”

“Ah.” Thancred refused to ask if the mark counted the Ultima Weapon or the Ascian, Lahabrea. Arden had fought both, redeeming Thancred in the process.

Arden laid a hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling, my friend? If you need any more healing, I'm here.”

He had already spent two months healing the hyur, alternating with Y’shtola. Thancred's time possessed by the Ascian had left him weak and wasted, and at first he had experienced terrible nightmares. Fortunately these had begun to fade, but he still felt the cooler weather far more strongly than he used to.

“Nothing for healing to fix,” said Thancred, a little gruffly. “I might try to sit in the sun, though.”

“It's a beautiful day outside,” Arden told him. “Far warmer than this cold stone building.”

Thancred needed no further urging. In a few minutes, he and Arden were sunning themselves along the south side of the Waking Sands, the warm brick wall to their backs, and before them the harbor with its docks.

Thancred sighed and tilted his head to the sky. “That feels better already.”

Arden scanned the horizon, as was his habit whenever visiting Vesper Bay. The calm sea was an endless blue, rising to meet the sky that had only a few wisps of fair-weather clouds upon it. Merchant ships were always coming or going, bringing in goods to sell in the Ul’dah markets, or hauling away the luxuries of the desert city to sell in distant lands.

Today the quay was empty, but a distant ship was making its way inland. The breeze was slack, and oars flashed in the sun as the crew rowed the rest of the way to port. Arden frowned at the sails. They were not the square sails used by the ships of Limsa Lominsa, and she was no galleon. She was smaller, scarcely larger than a sloop, and her sails were a series of small triangles.

“Unless I miss my guess, that's a ship from the Far East,” said Arden.

Thancred looked up and squinted. “You might be right. We don't get many of those through here. Merchant vessel, do you think?”

“Has to be,” said Arden. “No other reason to come here.”

The ship drew closer by degrees. Arden and Thancred watched it with the attention of idlers. The Scions had many irons in the fire, of course, as they always did. But this afternoon, nothing was planned, no demands were made of the team in the Waking Sands. Minfilia and the others were still setting up the new headquarters up in Revenant's Toll in Mor Dhona, and the junior Warrior of Light was allowed to cool his heels.

Arden was supposed to be studying for the intermediate healer exam. His books and papers were certainly open and strewn across his work table indoors. But here he sat with one of his few close friends, watching a strange boat approach with idle anticipation.

Perhaps it was the scars on his spirit left from fighting Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda. Perhaps it was what he'd experienced at the claws of the Ultima Weapon and the brutal magic of Lahabrea. But ever since Arden emerged from the ruins of Castrum Meridainum on the wings of destruction, he had been entirely emotionally shut down. He laughed with too much ease, took nothing seriously, and had trouble focusing on his work. Any work. All he had done was laze about and read trashy adventure novels they sold by the half gil in the Ul’dah marketplace. When the other Scions complained, Minfilia said cryptically that they were to let him alone. So mostly alone Arden stayed. The only thing he had focused on for weeks was helping Thancred recuperate.

“Awful lot of passengers on deck, for a merchant ship,” Arden observed, shading his eyes.

Thancred did the same. As the ship drew toward the quay and turned to port, Thancred said, “I do believe it's a refugee ship. Look at the torn sails. Barely escaped from somewhere.”

“If it's from Othard, then it was Garlemald damaged them,” said Arden slowly. He sat up a little straighter and watched the ship closely. 

“Not like they'll find much help here,” said Thancred. “Ul’dah is already swamped with refugees from Ala Mhigo. They haven't room for more.”

They watched as the ship dropped anchor. A couple of sailors jumped to the quay and secured the lines, then the gangplank was lowered. A couple of customs officers emerged from the office and sauntered over to the ship to check invoices. As this was going on, a woman flanked by two guards descended the gangplank and crossed the quay to the shore.

Arden straightened, eyes widening. The woman was completely veiled and hooded, not an inch of skin showing. But she was Auri. He spotted her horns, carefully wrapped in cloth. He saw her tail, also carefully wrapped. But most of all, it was the way she walked, with that undefinable sense of poise that all Au Ra women had.

Arden had not seen a single Au Ra since his arrival in Eorzea. He had grown used to the stares, the remarks, and at times, outright hostility. But now, here was a woman of his own race, all veiled so her horns and scales would not show. He leaped to his feet and bounded toward the dock, leaving Thancred gaping after him.

The Auri woman was flanked by two Hyur, a man and a woman. They had the fair skin and dark hair of the Far East, as well as the round faces and slanted eyes. Arden’s heart leaped as he saw them. His eyes, too, slanted at the corners. It was as if a slice of home had walked straight into Vesper Bay. 

Now the little group hesitated and conferred together, as if unsure where to go. Arden galloped up to them, and all three of them flinched backward.

“Pardon me,” he said, bowing in the Eastern fashion. “Am I correct in assuming you are from the Far East?”

The three sized him up and exchanged glances. Then the Auri woman bowed. “You are correct. I am Yugiri, and these are my companions. We are all that remains of the Doman resistance against the Garlean Empire. We fled in the ship you see before you, and it has been a long, difficult voyage. We have children, elderly, and sick aboard. We seek lodging and supplies.”

“How many are you?” Arden asked.

“Two hundred and five,” said Yugiri.

It wasn't polite to show strong emotion in Othard culture, but Arden gaped at the ship anyway. “Two hundred and five! On that tub?”

“Yes,” said Yugiri, as if embarrassed at this outburst. “You see the urgency of my plea.” She gazed up at Arden. “Curious to meet a Xaela so far from the Steppes.”

Even hearing the name of his race sent joy thrilling through him. “I am Arden Ardakim,” he said, thumping his chest. “I came to Eorzea to secure an education in the healing arts. I will attend to your sick, if you allow it. But first, let me speak to my friends. We may be able to find you temporary lodging while you make arrangements for a more permanent stay.”

Yugiri bowed her thanks. The veil masked her expression, but behind her, her guards exchanged a look of sudden hope.

“Wait here,” Arden said, and ran like a maniac into the Waking Sands. He crashed through the doors and thundered down the stone stairs. “Y’shtola! Urianger!”

He found the Elezen and Miqo'te in the store room that doubled as a study, where the Scions kept several bookcases and a few desks. Both of them were reading, and looked up in surprise when Arden burst in.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, slamming both hands on Y’shtola's desk. “A shipload of refugees from Doma just arrived, and they need help. I told them I would speak to you.”

“Refugees?” said Y’shtola blankly. “Arden, Ul’dah is already overburdened by refugees from Ala Mhigo. All they can hope to do is join the tent camps outside the city walls.”

“These are from Doma!” Arden exclaimed. “They are my people! Don't you understand?” He spun from the cat girl to the Elezen. “Urianger, there are two hundred and five of them. They have children and sick who I can attend to. Grant me leave to house them in the Waking Sands for a few days. We have several empty rooms since the Garlean attack. Even this room could serve in a pinch.” He gestured at the large space full of badly organized crates and barrels. When Urianger did not immediately reply, Arden’s fervor grew more intense. “You must let me help them! They are my people, understand? I am a certified White Mage, and I can heal them! Please let me do this!”

Urianger looked at Y’shtola. Then he said carefully, “You may take the empty rooms in which to nurse the sick. For the rest, I must speak with Minfilia.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Arden exclaimed, pumping Urianger’s hand up and down. He whirled to Y’shtola. “Where are the extra blankets and bedding? I know there's a couple of crates packed with them.”

Y’shtola pointed them out, then watched Arden race away. As he tore open a crate with his bare hands, Y’shtola murmured, “I have never seen him this animated.”

“Perhaps helping his own people is the key to drawing him out of his melancholy,” Urianger said quietly. “Pardon me, I will contact Minfilia on the linkpearl.”

Arden dumped the blankets in an empty room, then dashed outside to ask Yugiri how many sick she had. She told him there were about eighty who would need attention. Back dashed Arden, counting blankets, calculating floorspace, making up pallets on the floor. He ran out of blankets at twenty and ran to tear open another crate. This brought him to forty, so off he went to the market in Vesper Bay. This secured another forty. While there, he ordered a cartload of food, especially fruits and vegetables, sent to the boat at the dock, paying for it from his own account. Then back he ran to make up the rest of the sickbeds.

Y’shtola brought in Yugiri and her guards as Arden was finishing the last bed.

“As you can see, he's been working very hard,” Y’shtola said in her best hostess manner. “We have two rooms made up for the succor of the ill, and you will be pleased to know that the washrooms are right across the hall.”

Yugiri inspected everything, her veil concealing her expression. But the way she clasped her hands and swung her tail spoke of her delight. She returned from her inspection and bowed to Y’shtola, then to Arden. Only Arden’s eye, accustomed to Doman culture, caught the way her bow to him was a fraction deeper.

“We cannot pay for any of this at present,” Yugiri said, her voice low and emotional. “But in time, when we are on our feet again, we will repay the Scions of the Seventh Dawn in any way that we can.”

Y’shtola waved a dismissive hand. “Think nothing of it, Lady Yugiri. The sun sinks, and we must convey the sick here as quickly as possible. Arden, we have several stretchers in the supply room. Please fetch them.”

Arden found himself working alongside the Domans to board the ship, carefully help the ailing onto stretchers, and carry them into the Waking Sands. He helped fathers carry sick mothers, mothers carry children, and families carry grandparents. He carried people who had only a few friends, people close to death, people with festering wounds that set them burning with fever.

Arden asked what was wrong with each one. The sick and dying he placed in one room. Those who were stronger, he placed in the other, giving himself a rough triage queue. He informed Y’shtola, who approved.

Then, leaving the Domans to finish bringing their sick, Arden pulled out his healer’s staff and set to work. His skill had grown too great for a mere rod, and after he had broken two, the spirit in his White Mage soul stone had laughed at him and told him how to make a staff. Now he wielded it with an expert hand, purging infection from wounds with the water spell Esuna, then drawing aether from the land to mend wounds with the lilies of Affliliatus Status. He used Cure and Restoration on the sick. Many of them were afflicted with lung and throat infections similar to pneumonia or strep, and he took his time with these.

As he worked his way among the ill, he noticed that most of them were Hyur. But here and there were Au Ra, probably of the Raen clan, horns and scales carefully wrapped and concealed. He healed two Auri men of wounds that had failed to heal, and whose infections would have killed a Hyur. But Au Ra were a hardy race, and they had grimly clung to life for the sake of their wives and children. Arden fervently admired their fortitude.

He came to an Auri woman whose horns were wrapped, but wore no veil. She labored for breath, and her pleading gaze followed Arden about the room. Beside her sat a teen Hyur who held her hand and spoke soothingly, coaxing her to stay calm until the healer could arrive.

“Pneumonia?” Arden asked, kneeling beside them.

“We don't know,” said the teen Hyur. “It came upon her suddenly a week ago, but there was no fever.”

“Something similar,” Arden murmured. He rested one horn against her chest. Since Au Ra processed sound through their horns, this served him as a stethoscope. He listened to the bubbling in her lungs for a moment, then began a gentle Esuna spell to purge the infection. The boy watched closely, stroking her hand.

“Is she your mother?” Arden asked him.

“My sister,” said the boy. “She is Emiko and I am Taro. Will she live?”

“I think so,” said Arden. He gazed into his patient’s sunken, anxious eyes. “Calm yourself, dear one. Slow, even breaths. You will feel the pressure begin to ease with each breath.” He held his staff over her chest and began a slow cast of Cure upon her, gathering the desert’s clean, strong aether of wiry plants and animals that clung to life through the harshest conditions. This perseverance and strength he drew through himself and channeled into her, tasting the desert wind as he did so. Emiko’s eyes closed as her breathing began to ease. A smile touched her lips. “I feel it,” she whispered. “The deserts of Eorzea.”

Arden looked at her quickly. No patient had ever identified the healing aether before. Only the mage who cast it usually had any idea as to the source.

“Is she an arcanist?” he asked the boy.

Taro shook his head. “I don't know what that is.”

Arden kept working, feeling the illness leaving her by degrees. “Now you will rest,” he told her. “Our culinarian is cooking a huge cauldron of broth, and soon it will be brought in for everyone. When it arrives, I want you to drink as much as you can hold.”

“Yes sir,” Emiko whispered, smiling. “You are most kind.”

“I'm a healer, ma’am,” said Arden with a slight bow. “I do what I can.” Turning to her brother, he added, “She should sleep now. If you notice her breathing begin to sound bad again, send for me at once.”

Arden circled the whole room twice more, seeing that all forty of the sickest patients were stabilized and mending. Then he went next door to check on the less ill patients, only to find that Y’shtola had been attending them.

“Divide and conquer,” she told him cheerfully. “You left me the easy cases, so I have been about them. What sorts of ailments did you encounter?”

Arden told her about the pneumonia, the upper respiratory infections, the lungs bubbling with fluid, the infected wounds. Y’shtola grew sober.

“And you say that you've stabilized them all?”

“Yes, of course, or I wouldn't have left them,” said Arden.

Y’shtola gazed up at him thoughtfully. “And your aether? Is it depleted?”

“Oh, I could use some supper,” said Arden with a laugh–the old, surface-level laugh that had nothing to do with mirth. “Thanalan’s aether did the rest. Strong, wholesome stuff.”

“Arden,” said Y’shtola slowly, “you do realize that most healers would not be capable of that much healing?”

Arden grinned. “We Auri are known for our stamina. There are two Auri men in there with infected wounds that would have killed a Hyur in a week. If they could withstand such sickness, then I can heal forty people.”

“I see,” said Y’shtola, as if she saw much more than she let on. “Go wash up, then visit the kitchen. I've sent instructions for them to feed you well.”

Arden was treated to an excellent supper of grilled fish, crusty bread with seasoned oil, and roasted vegetables. He devoured it absently, his mind still with his patients. Once they were restored, what then? Ul’dah had no room for more refugees. They would not distinguish between the needy of Ala Mhigo and the needy of Doma. But Arden would help them. By Hydaelyn herself, he would find them homes if he had to build the houses himself, brick by brick.

He was lost in thought about how to use Conjure Stone to create foundations and walls when Y’shtola walked in. She sat at the table across from him, her blue eyes intense. “Arden. We must talk.”

“Yes, we must,” he replied. “You first.”

“The Domans cannot stay here,” she said, clasping her hands. “We have few resources at the Waking Sands. Aside from the Garleans knowing our location, many powerful people in Ul’dah have their eye on us. A sudden influx of people here could be seen as a military action.”

Arden frowned. “Helping the unfortunate is a crime?”

“It could appear to be one,” Y’shtola said. “I spoke to Minfilia. She is arranging for Yugiri and her escort to meet with the Ul’dah Syndicate. We hope to land an appointment within the next few days, so there's still time.”

“I was thinking about this,” Arden said, gazing at his plate. Slowly he lifted his gaze to Y’shtola's, the violet ring in his eyes burning. “I cannot see what is to be done. Ul’dah has no place for more refugees. But I will succor them myself, if I have to.”

Y'shtola sat back in her chair with a disbelieving smile. “Arden, you can't be serious.”

He leaned forward, both hands flattening against the tabletop. “I can build houses with Conjure Stone the way the padjals conjure trees into dwellings in Gridania. I can give them shelter, and perhaps we could establish a town, create goods to sell.”

Y'shtola shook her head slightly, still with that smile. “Arden …”

“You think I'm a fool!” he exploded. “They are my people! What would you do if the Y tribe came to you, begging for help? Would you not aid them?”

Y’shtola’s smile vanished and she looked away.

“I will take it upon myself to care for these people,” he concluded in a low, intense voice. “If the Scions disapprove, then so be it.” 

Y’shtola sat there in silence for a moment, as if deciding what to say. Arden polished a few crumbs from his plates and stacked his dishes.

Finally she said, “You do not face this task alone, Arden. We will not abandon you.”

Arden shot her a look from beneath his stern brows. “I faced Ifrit alone. I can face this, too.”

Y’shtola rose to her feet as Arden did. “That was entirely different.”

“Is it, though?” Arden asked. “Would the Scions have lifted a finger to help the Domans had I not dragged them into it?” He strode out of the room before Y’shtola could reply.

She shook her head and bit her lower lip. “If you hadn't walled yourself off with your ego, then maybe you'd see that you really do have friends here,” she muttered.

Chapter Text

Arden put the conversation from his mind by checking on his patients. In the room of less sick patients, all was quiet. Everyone had finished their meal of broth and Ul’dahn flatbread, and people were talking quietly among themselves or sleeping.

In the room of sicker patients, he found a similar state, although a few people had begun coughing and required more treatment. Arden administered more Cure and Esuna, as gentle and tender with his patients as he had been rough with Y’shtola.

One of the sicker patients was Emiko. The Auri woman had managed to drink most of her broth, but now was sitting up, her breath coming in long, painful wheezes. Her brother Taro sat with his arms around her, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement. They both looked up with hope when Arden arrived.

“I'm sorry, I should have come sooner,” he said, touching her chest with the tip of his staff. “Slow, deep breaths. Feel the desert’s aether as I siphon it into you.” The staff’s top glowed a fresh spring green, and aether streamed into Emiko in sparkles. She closed her eyes and smiled. Her breathing grew easier within a few breaths.

“We’ve been awaiting your return,” said Taro. “I told her that your presence here is a gift of the Kami. We arrive in a strange land, and who greets us but one of our own kinsmen! And he is a healer! Who but the Kami could have arranged such a thing?”

“I confess, it's passing strange,” said Arden. “I do not know what the future holds, but I intend to see you all face it with strong bodies and food in your bellies.”

“Your kindness is too great, friend,” whispered Emiko. “Once I can breathe, I too must wear a veil.”

“I'm not certain it's necessary, but do as you wish,” said Arden.

Taro gestured at his horns. “Do none fear you for your Auri features?”

“Nay, I wish they did,” Arden said. “Mostly they make me a target for the inquisitive and the dishonest. Fortunately I can hold my own in a fight, but I fear what might happen to an Auri woman. Few care to tangle with a brute of an Auri man, but the women are small and delicate.”

“Yes, we’ve observed that with the Garleans,” said Taro bitterly. “So many Auri girls taken as concubines. We joined the resistance to try to save some of them, but we were crushed and forced to flee. I swore I would not let Emiko come to such a fate.”

Arden’s lips peeled back from his teeth at this news. “The dogs! I swear I will not rest until the Garleans and their warmachina have been driven into the sea.”

Emiko rested a tiny hand on his arm. “Please, friend,” she whispered, “not tonight. My sickness grows worse as the magic fades. I fear to sleep tonight.”

“I'll remain with you,” Arden promised. “I'll make up my bed here beside yours.”

This was swiftly accomplished. Arden had planned to sleep in the sick ward anyway, just in case someone needed him in the night. Now he stretched out beside Taro and Emiko, his staff beside him where he could easily reach it.

Despite her fears, Emiko sank into sleep at once, her exhausted body craving rest. Arden said to Taro, “Let me cleanse your body, as well. You have been exposed to any number of sicknesses lately.”

“Yes, thank you,” the youth said. “I've been feeling a bit poorly, but I had to care for my sister.”

Arden held his staff over the Hyur and gently bathed him in healing magic. “How does a Hyur end up the brother of an Auri girl?”

“I was a foundling,” said Taro with a shrug. “My stepfather found me in a ditch not far from where he was working one morning. I was a newborn left to die. He pitied me and took me home to his wife, who had just had Emiko a few months earlier. She raised us both. I confess, I feel more Auri than Hyur most days. Then I remember that I have no horns.” He touched his ear and gave Arden a rueful smile.

Arden returned it. “You must watch over your sister here in Eorzea. The customs are strange, and I will endeavor to teach you about them. I made many mistakes as I was learning.”

“We will learn quickly,” said Taro. “Emiko and I were the tops of our classes in secondary school.. You should hear us play our flutes and harps.”

Arden smiled a little. It was almost a genuine smile, coming from fond memories of his homeland. “I will teach you so that you may teach others. For now, rest. Much work lies before us.”

Taro curled up in his blankets obediently, and was soon asleep. Arden lay awake on his own blanket, listening to the breathing and occasional whispers of the other patients in the room. No one coughed or moaned. All seemed peaceful. For the first time in months, Arden’s walls around his wounded heart began to creep down. He relaxed such as he had not relaxed since arriving in Eorzea, and fell asleep.

He awoke early the next morning to find Taro and Emiko talking quietly beside him. As consciousness returned, he heard Emiko say, “I don't know for certain. I studied the maps, but the customs and politics of this land are beyond my ken. Perhaps we might be scattered among the city-states.”

“I wish it were not so,” Taro murmured. “I have many friends whom it would pain me greatly to lose. We promised each other that we would work together to build a new life.”

Arden felt bad for eavesdropping, so he gave a great yawn and sat up. He was pleased to see Emiko sitting up and looking much brighter. She had removed her hood and had been brushing out her dark hair, which fell in long, wavy locks about her shoulders. Her horns were the fan-shaped sort, like the fins on a seahorse, and her hair had become entangled around them. She was working it free with a comb as she talked to her brother.

Arden’s heart did something strange in his chest, sort of a couple of missed beats that made him catch his breath. He was Xaela, of the nomadic tribes with black horns and scales. She was Raen, who had long ago settled in the cities and whose scales and horns were creamy white. He was not terribly familiar with those of the Raen tribe, but just at this moment, it didn't matter. Emiko’s beauty breached his walls and pierced his heart like a sword, and such a wound would never heal.

Emiko noticed his stare and smiled self-consciously. “Pardon me, sir. I'll put my hood on as soon as my hair is tamed. Might you know where I could find a veil? We had run out of the sheer cloth, and I simply cannot breathe through the thicker stuff.”

Something roared to life inside of Arden. It was a combination of that wound in his heart, and the thought of Garlean concubines. Worse, he knew the horrors that Ala Mhigan women had been reduced to, whoring themselves for a few gil and a bite to eat. No! He would not let that happen to her–nor to any of the Domans.

“I'll buy you a proper veil once the shops open,” Arden said with a tenderness he hadn't quite meant to show.

Emiko caught the note in his voice and met his eyes. She saw something there that made her smile and look down. A pink blush touched her cheeks. “You are too kind, sir.”

Taro looked back and forth between them and cleared his throat. “Emiko is much better today, sir, but shouldn't she have a little extra healing?”

“What? Oh yes, of course.” Arden had been staring into her eyes, slowly sinking into their blue green depths like a drowning man into the sea. He shook himself free of this reverie and retrieved his staff. “Once I see to you, Miss Emiko, I must see to the others as well.”

“Is there anything for breakfast?” Emiko asked timidly, as the healing magic began to flow over her. “I'm terribly hungry this morning, and all I can think about are fresh, crunchy greens. Or egg rolls stuffed with vegetables.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Arden replied. “The greengrocer here opens about eight o’clock.” He added to himself that he would buy the man’s entire stock, just as he had done yesterday. Arden’s bank account was rapidly slimming and he didn't care.

He proceeded to attend to the rest of his patients with the same intent care, because deep in his mind, where he didn't usually go, helping the Domans was helping Emiko. He didn't analyze this, he merely acted on it, helping lungs dry out, infection to die down, and encouraging fevers to abate once more. Then he visited the greengrocers and saw to it that every Doman had fresh fruits and vegetables with their breakfasts.

The Domans were starved for fresh food after weeks at sea. The patients devoured every scrap and showed great improvement afterward. The other passengers from the ship came to visit, and the halls of the Waking Sands echoed with footsteps, voices, and laughter for the rest of the day.

Arden was in the thick of it all, watching that his patients didn't overexert themselves, telling the Domans about Eorzea, and handing out more food. Midway through the afternoon, when he was unloading yet another bushel basket of veg and deciding how to pass it out, Emiko appeared at his side.

“Let me bundle these,” she said softly. “I used to work at a produce stall in the market in our village.”

Arden surrendered the basket to her, and watched in admiration as she sorted one of everything into piles and tied each with a bit of string. He took charge of passing them out, and they got on much faster.

Working with Emiko at his side was an extraordinary experience for Arden. He had been miserably alone and homesick since he arrived in Eorzea. The Scions had provided a few friends and support, but aside from Thancred and Arenvald, few of them saw through his prickly exterior. Arden was always the foreigner, the outsider, and being proclaimed the Warrior of Light had only made it worse. But now, here was this woman of his own race, from his own country, who not only didn't fear him, she had pitched in to help him. Seeing this small, delicate creature at his side awakened that roaring, snarling side of him that wanted to protect her or die trying. Barring that, he might merely throw himself at her feet.

They barely had time to speak to one another, so he tried to communicate this with smiles and by being extremely attentive to anything she needed. The Domans who didn't know him paid no attention. But at one point, Arden looked up to see Thancred across the room, staring at him with an expression of wonder.

The bushel basket emptied, and still there were a few people who wanted vegetables. So Arden rose to his feet and shouldered the basket. “Will you accompany me, my lady?” he asked, offering Emiko his arm. “I'll show you around Vesper Bay and our small market.”

She laid a small hand upon his muscular arm with a smile. “That sounds lovely, Mr. Ardakim, thank you.” She pulled her hood up over her horns, trying to shade her face as much as possible. Then he escorted her out of the Waking Sands and into the port village of Vesper Bay.

Two ships had arrived and were unloading goods. They stood and watched the sailors and the loading crane at work for a few minutes, then walked on.

“I expected a much bigger town than this,” Emiko said as they entered the village’s main square. She gazed up at Lolorito’s statue in the center of the square in curiosity. “If so much trade passes through here, where are the warehouses and such?”

“Everything is immediately shipped to Ul’dah, the main city state of this region,” Arden told her. “See the chocobo carts standing ready? It's only half a day’s drive.”

Emiko studied the birds and the carts with their balloons. “Seems to me that horses or oxen would serve you better. Chocobos are fast, but are not known for their strength.”

“I've thought the same thing,” said Arden. “But that is the custom here, although they do also use horses to a lesser degree.”

“Do you have a chocobo?” Emiko asked, looking up at him with a flash of those blue-green eyes.

Arden smiled down at her. “Yes, his name is Swift. Once we finish our errand, I'll introduce you. He's running about a paddock just outside of town.”

“I never had one of my own,” said Emiko softly. “I had a wonderful horse named Starlet, for the one on his forehead. But I fear that he was seized by the Garleans when we had to flee.”

Arden’s heart clenched at the grief in her voice. “I know it's a paltry gesture, but I'll purchase a horse for you. Just say the word.”

She looked up at him again, her mouth falling open. “But why? It is too much!”

“Because I cannot stand the hurt in your eyes and in your voice,” Arden said softly. “It tells me of the anguish of your heart, and I would see you smile again.”

She bowed her head, the hood concealing her expression, but her hand tightened on his arm. “You are too kind,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. “But I cannot accept any such gift until we know where we are to live.”

“I'll take care of everything,” said Arden, although at the moment, he wasn't sure how. The Syndicate and their hard faces flashed through his mind’s eye. He mentally snarled at it and turned away.

The greengrocer had some stock left, and Arden bought all the rest. “You've cleaned me out again,” laughed the grocer as he piled the last few heads of lettuce into the basket. “It's not as fresh as it was this morning, but I daresay those refugees won't care.”

“They're grateful for anything green,” said Arden, handing over a fistful of gil. “We hope to have them sorted within the week, so don't expect this to continue.”

“I'm not complaining,” laughed the grocer. “My family will dine well tonight.” He gazed curiously at the hooded girl at Arden’s side. All the merchants in town were familiar with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and supplied them with daily goods. Everyone knew Arden as the tough, swaggering healer who would probably kill you as soon as mend you. But here he was, spending vast amounts of coins to help a ship of ragtag foreigners. What was more, he had a girl at his side, of his own race no less. The grocer had only a glimpse of her face, but word soon spread around the markets that ‘Arden’s girl is a ravishing beauty, but you'd best not mess with her if you know what's good for you.’

Arden’s next stop was the clothier’s to purchase a proper veil. It was soon fitted, and a strip of cloth was purchased to wrap Emiko’s tail, as well. Soon she was inscrutable and mysterious as Yugiri.

“I can breathe through this one,” she said with a sigh as they stepped back into the street. “It will be overly warm, but I will cope.”

“It will offer a little protection from prying eyes,” Arden said. “But do not wander the town alone, especially after dark.”

“I'll always take Taro with me,” she said meekly. “I pity the drunken fool who tries to paw at me.”

Arden wondered at this. Perhaps there was more to Taro than met the eye? He seemed little more than a boy, but who knew what training he had taken to fight in the resistance. He imagined Emiko helping bandage the wounded and distribute supplies as her brother crept through the shadows with a sword in hand.

They returned to the Waking Sands and found the Domans milling about. Those who were well enough to leave wished to do so, but nobody wanted to return to their cramped, stinking ship. Urianger wove his way through the crowd to Arden. 

“I understand that thou carest for thy people,” said the Elezen, “but the Waking Sands be full to bursting. Hast thou a plan for such an outcome?”

Arden looked around at the Hyur and Au Ra around him, at their entreating faces.

“Let them sleep anywhere there's floor space,” he said to Urianger. “Tomorrow is our audience with the Syndicate, and we may have better plans by tomorrow night.”

Urianger nodded gravely. Then he proceeded through the building, opening doors and showing their guests more places to spread out. The Domans collected their blankets and luggage from the ship and filled the Waking Sands from end to end, all two hundred and five of them.

Arden found Emiko and Taro, and spread out his own blanket alongside them. Taro positioned himself between Emiko and Arden.

“Not that I don't trust you,” Taro said as they all reclined on the floor, “but I've seen too many awful things happen to women.”

“I respect your wisdom,” said Arden. “However, don't look upon me as an enemy. Rather, consider me an additional bulwark against the forces of evil. I swear upon my honor that I will not touch your sister.”

“You'll lose a hand if you do,” said Taro with a yawn.

Arden lay back upon his pillow and stretched out his legs. They were sleeping in a corner, and an attacker would have to climb over both him and Taro to threaten Emiko. Not that he expected the Domans to do such a thing, but one could never tell.

However, it had been a busy day, and Arden was tired, his aether drained from healing. He was asleep within a few minutes.

Chapter Text

Ul’dah had been run by the Sultanate for most of its history. But after the defeat of its sister city Sil’dih, Ul’dah flourished as the only major trade hub in the desert region of Thanalan. Gradually the wealthiest merchants gained power, and the Sultanate partnered with them to manage commerce in the growing city. This resulted in the Syndicate of merchants gaining more and more power, as the Sultanate dwindled at the same rate. Today, even though Yugiri made her plea to the Sultana, everyone knew it would be the Syndicate that had the last word.

Arden had not been allowed into the council chamber. He stood outside with the Sultana’s guards, arms crossed, glaring fiercely at anyone who approached.

Minfilia had spoken to him about it before the meeting. “Arden,” she said quietly, gazing up at him with those gentle blue eyes. “I've seen how you've put your heart into aiding our Doman friends, and I love it. It's such a good thing for you. However, I don't think this meeting will go well. I would like you to wait outside for the duration.”

“But Minfilia!” Arden protested. “I'm a Warrior of Light! I should lend them my support!”

“I’ve already asked Arenvald to accompany the delegation,” said Minfilia, her voice growing still softer. “This is a passionate subject for you, and I cannot risk an outburst in the council chamber. Would you please wait outside?”

Arden had walked out of the solar and paced the hallway for some time before he regained control of himself. Finally, when his head was cooler, he returned to Minfilia. She was sitting behind her desk with an unhappy expression, her pen poised above a stack of paperwork without writing anything.

“I’m sorry,” he had said, sinking into a chair opposite the desk and resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve allowed my heart to become wrapped up in the fate of my people, and I’m not at my most rational. I’ll wait outside.” He raised his head and stared at Minfilia. “But … but if the Syndicate votes against us, what do we do then?”

“I’m working on a contingency plan,” said Minfilia. “Please trust me, Arden. I can say nothing until after this meeting.”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, then Arden looked down. “I’ll trust you,” he said simply.

Those words resonated in his mind as he stood outside the council chamber, bigger and fiercer-looking than the Hyur paladins in their armor. They kept an eye on him, and he kept an eye on them, as well. It didn’t matter that he wore his official White Mage robe and had his staff strapped to his back. White Mages could be very dangerous, too.

He stood there, glaring and worrying, listening to the indistinct murmur of voices inside the council chamber. The longer it dragged on, the tighter his nerves seemed to stretch. Then he would remind himself that Minfilia had a plan, and her plans were usually good. He would relax for a while, only to slowly grow tense again.

Suddenly the door opened and most of the Syndicate filed out. Arden stood back and watched them in shock. There were only six members, and four of them walked out, murmuring to each other about grabbing a drink. His heart sank sharply. The Syndicate had just voted, and those who left were the negative votes.

Despair and rage struck him in equal measures. Of course they voted not to help the Domans. They were already bursting at the seams with refugees from Ala Mhigo. All the same, it seemed monstrously unfair that these incredibly rich merchants should scorn to help a ship full of suffering families. But Minfilia had a plan, right? Minfilia had a plan. It was only this knowledge that kept him from summoning stone under the feet of the Syndicate and knocking them all on their faces.

After a while the Doman delegation emerged, accompanied by Minfilia and Arenvald. Yugiri was masked, as usual, but the slump of her shoulders showed her disappointment. Raubahn, leader of the Immortal Flames and representative of the Sultana, accompanied them. He was a huge Ala Mhigan Hyur with bronze skin and many scars from the arena. He wore impressive armor that Arden had never known was decorative or functional.

“You understand our position,” he was saying to Minfilia and Yugiri. “The Sultanate sympathizes with your plight, but our hands are tied. Without the cooperation of the Syndicate we can do nothing. And the Syndicate does nothing that does not line their pockets with the Monitarists holding the majority vote.”

“I understand,” said Minfilia in her gentle way. “Thank you for your goodwill, Raubahn. Thankfully this was not the only avenue open to us. We will explore other options.”

Raubahn bowed to them and returned to the council chamber. The Doman delegation set out down the hall toward the exit, Minfilia speaking softly with Yugiri. Arden fell into step behind the women and their guards, alongside Arenvald.

Arenvald was half-Ala Mhigan half-Garlean, although one couldn't tell by looking at him. He had the dark skin and heavy build of an Ala Mhigan, and sun-bleached blond hair that tumbled in his eyes. He had been a gladiator until he was asked to join the Sultansworn Paladins, where his paycheck and living conditions were much improved. He also possessed the Echo, the same as Arden, which may have aided his rapid ascension in the game rankings. He and Arden had been fast friends ever since Arden joined the Scions.

“How did it go?” Arden asked in a low voice.

Arenvald shook his blond head. “Yugiri presented her case elegantly, and the Sultana was much moved. She wished to send them funds and all, but she was shouted down by that snake Lolorito. He pointed out how much money they'd lose, and how it would do nothing for the refugee problem they already had. Then Teledji Adeledji joined in, lamenting that if only his policies had been accepted sooner, he would be in a position to help. It was all false sympathy, I'm sure, meant as a power play among the Syndicate. Then they voted and you saw how many voted against. I'm not sure what these poor people will do next.”

“Minfilia told me that she has a plan,” said Arden in an undertone. “I don't think any of us expected actual aid from the Syndicate.”

“How right you are,” said Arenvald with a grimace. “Working in the palace, I hear things.” He met Arden’s eyes and shook his head, signalling that he could say no more. Arden nodded in understanding.

They left the palace and took a carriage back out to Vesper Bay. The only consolation on the long ride was that Minfilia bought them all pies for their noon meal, and eating them on the carriage improved everyone’s spirits.

All except Yugiri. She ate in silence and rode in silence, her head bowed. Arden wished he could comfort her somehow, but all that came to mind were empty platitudes. But he could not sit there and do nothing. He leaned forward and touched her arm. “Lady Yugiri.”

She listlessly lifted her head and looked at him through her mask. He wished he could see her expression.

“You and your people are not forsaken,” he said softly. “We will find a solution and it will be good.”

“Thank you, Arden Ardakim,” said Yugiri. “You have already bestowed more kindness upon us than I ever dreamed. Minfilia tells me that she is working to secure a future for us, so for now I must merely trust and wait.”

“Never forget that you are not alone,” said Arden, sinking back into his own seat. His thoughts turned to Emiko and Taro, and of how downcast they would be at the news. He would cheer them as best as he could. A thought flickered at the back of his mind that if he married Emiko, then she would no longer be homeless. He would care for Taro, as well. But he shook this idea away. He was in no position to take a wife, for he had no home here in Eorzea. He always planned to return to the Steppes, and perhaps she might accompany him then. 

In the meantime, then he, too, would wait and hope for Minfilia’s solution.

Arden kept as busy as possible that evening and through the next day. The Domans were rapidly improving with fresh air, fresh food, and baths and clean clothes. Even the sickest of his patients with recurring symptoms were growing well day by day. Arden delighted over them, but his soul was weighted by the question of their future. Once more he turned to plans of building shelters with his stone summoning magic.

The second evening after the delegation, Emiko missed him and went looking for him.

Arden was not at the quay, neither was he roaming the town. Emiko asked the town guards if they'd seen him, and was directed out the town gates, into the desert. There she heard a strange noise, like rocks grinding together. She pulled her cloak around herself a little more tightly and crept toward it.

Emiko found Arden a short distance from the city walls. He was stripped to the waist and dripped with sweat, swinging his staff in spell after spell. Emiko’s bemused eyes took in the squarish outlines of stone foundations, ragged and crumbling. Arden used his summon stone spell to break them apart, then force them back together tighter. He drew a wall of rock forth from the ground, but it was a hands breadth away from the foundation. Cursing under his breath, Arden toppled the wall with a wave of his staff and summoned another.

He's trying to learn to build houses for us, Emiko thought. Her gaze returned to this powerful Au Ra mage who had befriended them … befriended her. She shamelessly watched the muscles in his arms flex as he lifted the staff, shamelessly admired the patterns the black scales made on his chest, arms, and back. She had not been around many Xaela men, for the Raen considered them uncouth and brutish. Meeting Arden Ardakim, a well-educated healer, had been a pleasant surprise, especially when his magic eased the drowning sensation in her lungs. She had watched in growing amazement as he lavishly spent his own coin to purchase food and supplies for her people. 

And now here he was, trying to force his magic to do things it was never designed to do, in service to her people. Tears stung her eyes as she watched him. He would work himself to death, if he had to, of that she was growing more and more certain. She ceased to admire his muscles and sank onto a boulder to admire his spellcasting, his precision with the rock, and the fire that drove him on.

Her thoughts flitted back to Doma, the steep mountains and pine forests, the architecture that mimicked the shape of the trees. The land she loved, the prince she served, now lost to the Garlemald invaders. No one knew if Lord Hein had lived or died–he had led a final assault against the Garlean prince to give the refugees time to escape on their ship. Thoughts of blood and war flashed through her mind, of gleaming knives and the blast of mortars from attacking warmachina.

Nearby, Arden broke off his casting and doubled up, holding his head. Emiko gasped and rose to her feet. “Arden! Are you all right?”

He didn't answer, just stood there gasping for breath in a strange way, his eyes squeezed shut, grasping his head with both hands. She hurried up to him. “Arden! Did you use too much aether? Can you hear me?”

He didn't respond for a long moment. Then he drew a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, still holding his head.

“What happened?” Emiko asked anxiously.

“Uh, I …” Arden straightened up and reeled, nearly losing his balance. He conjured a stone block and sat down heavily on it, where he rubbed his temples with both hands. After a moment, he lifted his staff and conjured another block out of the ground beside his and motioned for Emiko to join him. She did so and took his big, gentle hand. It was damp with sweat, and he held her lightly, as if afraid to soil her dainty palm.

“Have you ever heard of the Echo?” he said after a while.

Emiko shook her head.

Arden drew a deep breath. “It's a power that comes and goes. For me, it usually manifests as an ability to understand animals.”

“Animals!” Emiko said in astonishment. “What do they say?”

“About what you'd expect,” Arden said with a wry grin. “Food, territory, mates. Lots of complaints. My chocobo constantly negotiates for more Gysahl greens.”

Emiko laughed despite herself, her admiration for him growing.

Arden went on, “Sometimes the Echo gives me visions of another person’s mind. It's random and I can't control it. But just now, I … I think I saw your memories. A town in Yanxia somewhere, among the pines, being fired upon by the Garleans.”

Emiko gasped, her eyes lifting to his. “Yes! I was … I was remembering. I must have let you in, somehow.”

His violet eyes gazed into hers from under his heavy lashes. After a moment he dropped his gaze to their hands. He released her and tried to dry his palm on his pants. “I'm sorry it happened. The Echo cares nought for privacy.”

“It's my own fault for tracking you out here,” said Emiko. She spotted his tunic hanging on a nearby bush and retrieved it for him. “I confess, I rather enjoyed the view.”

He blushed and she regretted her words. He tugged his tunic on and laced it. “That was … not my intent, my lady. I was practicing and grew warm in the sun.”

“What were you doing?” Emiko was eager to turn the conversation away from Echoes and her own wandering eyes.

Arden pointed at the rough foundations and walls with his staff. “I thought I could use Conjure Stone to build houses for our people. But it's harder than I expected. The stone resists specific shaping, and as it emerges from the ground, it leaves behind a hollow that it tries to sink back into. I've altered my spells with a couple of extra modifier runes and an aether crystal. See?” He held out his staff, which had a yellow crystal etched with runes tied to the top. 

“Does it work?” Emiko asked.

“Almost.” Arden shook his head. “It still resists me and I'm not sure why. I'll have to consult the Conjurer’s Guild in Gridania.”

Emiko shook her head. “The only magic I know is the symbols used by the Shinobi to create various effects.” She made one of the signs with her hands, and a little icy air swirled around them. “But I can only perform ice, fire, and lightning. Of Earth I have no knowledge.”

Arden again gave her that surprised, admiring look from beneath his lashes. For a second she almost thought he might bend down and kiss her. But he looked away, instead. “You are full of surprises, Emiko. Perhaps I should not worry about you as much as I have been.”

She beamed. “You worry about me?”

“Well…yes.” He turned toward her and took her hand again. “You were so ill when we met. Your face is still too thin, and I dislike the skeletal look of your wrists.” He caressed one with a thumb. “Therefore I worry about you venturing out into the streets and what might happen. Women disappear around Ul’dah all the time.”

“There are places in Doma like that,” said Emiko softly, gazing up at him. “I told you that Taro and I were the top of our class. I did not mention that we trained in the Shinobi arts. I can defend myself at need.”

Arden’s eyebrows shot up, and he smiled a little. “The Shinobi arts!” Then he frowned and looked down, laying his other hand over hers. “A Shinobi must be strong, Emiko. You are barely well, and you are not strong. A trained Thaumaturge could blind and paralyze you in a matter of seconds, and all the training in the world could not save you then. You see some of my worry, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Emiko admitted. She thought this over with a cold shudder. “I'll not venture out alone again. Today was an exception because I came to find you. And now I feel bad because I feel as if I was spying on you.”

“I knew you were there as soon as you left the gates,” said Arden cheerfully. “It gladdened my heart to have you watching my prowess.” He rose to his feet and tugged her along with him. “Look at the stone I did manage to shape.”

Despite his difficulties with the magic, Arden had formed a good, tight foundation in a rectangular shape. He had also managed to erect a wall that stood flush with the foundation on the south side.

“But you see the results of my struggle,” he said, ruefully gesturing at the scattered remains of other walls. “They refuse to go where I want them in the shape I desire. I am at a loss.”

“The blocks you drew forth to serve as seats seemed obedient enough,” said Emiko, gesturing to them. “Why not conjure smaller stone blocks, like pillars, and align them side by side?”

Arden frowned in that way she was coming to understand–he looked angry, but in reality he was concentrating fiercely on the problem before him. He held out his staff and conjured a single narrow pillar from the ground. Then another beside it, then another. Emiko clasped her hands in delight as he conjured a whole row of them, completing the back wall.

“It works!” he exclaimed, looking up and beaming. “And it takes far less effort than my previous attempts. Emiko, I could kiss you.”

“Best not,” she said, giving him a coy sideways look. “I'm sure that cat girl in white would disapprove.”

“Y’shtola?” The incredulous stare he gave her said it all. “She thinks I am a showboating attention hog. Surely you've seen how she treats me. Besides.” He paced toward her and took her hands again. “I've only ever wanted an Auri woman.”

Emiko looked up at him and caught her breath. His smile had faded to a look of intensity, as if she had touched a part of his heart that had long laid dormant. Her heart fluttered and she wondered what she had done.

Before she could think of something to say, Arden went on, “But I am in no position to wed at present. I am only a sojourner in Eorzea until I complete my healer training. I have always intended to return to my home in the Steppes. When that day comes, if you are agreeable, I shall ask for your hand.”

“How long will that be?” Emiko asked.

“Another year at the least,” said Arden with a smile. “Plenty of time for us to grow tired of one another.”

Emiko didn't think she would ever tire of this stormy man, all thunderclouds one moment and beaming sunshine the next. She returned his smile. “Perhaps so and perhaps not. I will endeavor to grow stronger, at any rate.”

“Please do.” He hooked his staff through the loop at the back of his belt and offered her his arm. “Shall we return to the Waking Sands before people start to talk?”

“It's likely far too late for that,” said Emiko.

That evening, Arden was summoned to the solar, where Minfilia wished to address the Scions.

As everyone filed in, Thancred caught Arden and drew him aside. “I want to know about the girl,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Drinks after this meeting, all right?”

Arden winked at him, and they faced Minfilia’s desk.

Yugiri had also been called, and she hurried in last of all, adjusting her mask over her face. “My apologies,” she said, taking her place among the group. “I was not expecting any further meetings tonight.”

“I'm sorry this is such a short notice,” said Minfilia, gazing around at them all. “But my efforts to secure a long-term plan for the Doman refugees has borne fruit, and I wished to lay it before you.”

The room grew very quiet, every eye fixed on Minfilia expectantly.

Minfilia drew a deep breath. “As you all know, we’ve been in the process of relocating the headquarters of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Here, in Vesper Bay, we are beholden to the merchants and Syndicate of Ul’dah, who wish to leash us into serving them. This would cripple our main goal, which is to save Eorzea and to eliminate primal threats. To that end, we have been looking for neutral ground, and found it in Mor Dhona. It is a small country that sits between Thanalan and Coerthas, tucked against the mountains. Recently we rented space there, in Revenant's Toll, and have been transferring our goods and belongings, setting up a new headquarters.” She paused and drew a deep breath, focusing on Yugiri. “Revenant's Toll is still being rebuilt in the aftermath of the Calamity. It is an important trade hub for goods flowing between the three city-states and Coerthas, and many merchants reside there year round. However, despite that, land and rents are cheap because of the harsh climate. They desperately need workers to help with the rebuilding. Yugiri, there is room to house all of your people and more, and the landlords charge a pittance. What's more, there are jobs for them, as long as they don't mind the heavy labor of construction. I'd like you to talk it over with your people and give me your official answer tomorrow.”

Arden could see Yugiri’s delight in the way her tail straightened and curled at the tip. She controlled the rest of herself, however, and made an Eastern bow. “My greatest thanks for this opportunity, Lady Minfilia. I will call together my people at once. We will have an answer for you by morning.” She hesitated, then added, “On behalf of the elders and the women … are construction jobs the only ones?”

“I spoke to Rowena, the dealer in rare goods,” said Minfilia with a smile. “She wished to hire weavers and other craftsmen, as well as people to work in administration. I'm sure all of your people can be gainfully employed as soon as they wish.”

Yugiri’s bow had a bit of excited bounce to it, and she nearly ran from the room.

Minfilia turned to the other Scions. “I have no doubt that they will accept. To that end, the logistics of moving two hundred and five people from here to Mor Dhona are somewhat daunting. The largest chocobo carriage only carries twenty people. We would need to rent ten, plus the birds to tow them, plus extra for luggage. Tataru has already expressed her dismay at the potential cost.”

Arden stepped forward and made a short bow. “Minfilia, I am at your service.”

Minfilia smiled at him. “You have done so much already, Arden. I would ask no more.”

“But I own a magitek reaper,” Arden blurted. “Remember Maggie, the reaper with the mammet heart? All I have to do is ask Cid Garlond to add a towing hitch, and that machine could haul three or four carts in a chain. In addition, my own chocobo, Swift, is trained for pulling carts. I offer him free of charge.”

“Come to think of it,” said Thancred, “I own a couple of heavyweight chocobos, myself. I could have them shipped over from the Gold Saucer.”

“I think we all have birds we could contribute,” said Y’shtola. “We would need to rent the carts, of course, but providing our own birds reduces the cost greatly.”

Minfilia looked relieved. “You are all exceedingly generous. I hate to call upon you like this, but we have friends in need and we will not abandon them. Now, all of you are dismissed. We will discuss this more in the morning.”

Arden went out for a drink with Thancred at a tiny watering hole on one of Vesper Bay’s back streets. There, among a scattering of off-duty sailors and dockhands, Thancred asked, “So, this girl of yours.”

“She's not mine,” said Arden.

Thancred grinned and waved a dismissive hand. “She was dying, for Thal’s sake, and you brought her back from the brink.”

“I healed a lot of sick people,” said Arden, sipping his ale. It wasn't the best he’d had, but it was tolerable. He didn't care for their beer at all.

“Oh come along,” said Thancred, rolling his eyes. “You go everywhere with her and I don't even know her name.”

“Emiko, and her brother Taro,” Arden replied. “I know what you're asking, Thancred, and the answer is no.”

Thancred raised a suggestive eyebrow. “You've been sleeping in the ward with her every night.”

“I have more honor than that,” said Arden. “She is not yet mine and I have no claim to her. All I seek to do right now is protect her.”

“Not yet yours,” repeated Thancred with a grin. “So you do like her.”

Arden took a long drink of his ale to avoid answering.

Thancred drank his own and wiped his mouth. “Well, just wanted to say, I'm glad. I've thought you needed a girl for a long time, now. I just never thought a boatload of Auri women would sail straight into our harbor.”

“Azim had favor on me that day,” said Arden. “Or perhaps upon them, seeing how badly they needed a healer. One man had a hole in his side like this. They'd been at sea for forty-eight days.”

Thancred made a face. “So, this Emiko. What's she like under the veil?”

“Beautiful,” said Arden dreamily. “With scales like the delicate tracing of a china teacup. And eyes a man could wander in for days and never escape.”

Thancred’s grin grew wider. “Think I could have a peek?” 

“No,” said Arden without changing his tone.

Thancred laughed and shook his head. “You’re a tough nut to crack, you know that? All I want is a few details. You don't blow all your own gil and put a custom hitch on a Garlean reaper for someone you don't care about.”

“I care about all of them,” said Arden, glaring at his friend. “They are my people. Do you not care for Minfilia the same way? I've heard the story of how her father died when she was a child and how you took her in afterwards.”

Thancred tilted his mug back and forth, watching the light play across the ale’s surface. “It was my fault her father died. I could have stopped that rampaging gobbue. But I was off partying and couldn't get there in time. Guilt is a powerful motivator, you know.”

“So is love,” said Arden in a low voice. “Love of family, of kinsmen, of hearth and home. Seeing my people again, the way they speak, their manners, all of it is home for me. Hyur, Auri, it matters not. They are my people and I will serve them to my last breath.”

“You have a noble heart,” said Thancred. “But I also noticed that you keep changing the subject. I want to know about Emiko.”

Arden was silent a moment, thinking. “I don't know her that well,” he admitted. “I had an Echo vision of her memories. A small town among the trees in Yanxia, with Garlean warmachina marching in. Fire and smoke. I felt her fear.”

The enthusiasm faded from Thancred's face.

“She is trained to fight,” said Arden. “I believe all of them are, since they're all that's left of the Doman resistance. But sickness has left her weakened. I fear what might happen should anyone attack her … and this is Thanalan. Women are viewed as chattel, particularly refugee women.”

Thancred sat in silence for a moment, sipping his ale. After a while he said, “You sure know how to take the fun out of courting a girl.”

“When I start courting her, it will be different,” Arden said with a wry smile. “And you keep your hands off her, understand?”

Thancred sat back, holding up both hands. “Hey, I'm not chasing any Auri girls. Besides, you just went on about how she's not yours and you have no claim to her. If that's so, why tell me to back off?”

“Because she's going to be mine,” said Arden. “Someday when I have a place of my own and can care for a wife.”

“How can you be so sure?” Thancred said. “Women are as changeable as the weather. She might decide that she doesn't want a Warrior of Light for a husband.”

Arden stared into his ale mug for a while. “The first thing is to see her settled in Revenant's Toll. I hate to bring up anything more until she's safe and comfortable.”

“Does she know that you slay gods for a living?” Thancred asked.

Arden shook his head. “She knows me only as a healer, and I'd like to keep it that way. Besides, you know I despise being made to slay primals. I do it because I must, not because I enjoy it.”

“Yes, yes, I've heard it many times before,” said Thancred. “Just remember that trust is a two-way street. You want her to trust you, lay all your cards on the table. She needs to know what she's getting into with you.”

Arden nodded solemnly. Looking inside himself, he felt the rough, broken edges of his spirit, the horrible guilt that he had survived being sacrificed to Ifrit and no one else had, the fear of facing off with Titan, the crippling dread he had experienced before Garuda. And then fighting all of them at once in the Ultima Weapon, which was at once a triumph in his heart and a confusion of fear and fire and magic. Even now, he dreaded the next primal that would inevitably rear its head. There was talk that the Sahagin were preparing to summon Leviathan, and Arden had deliberately not listened.

He finished his ale and stared into his empty mug. “Although another sounds tempting, I have much work to do in the morning.”

“As do I,” sighed Thancred. He rose to his feet and dug in his pocket for gil. Arden did the same. They paid for their drinks and walked back to the Waking Sands mostly in silence. 

Indoors it was dark and quiet, but a murmur of voices behind the doors of the Doman’s main room persisted. Yugiri must still be in talks with her people. Arden sought his bedroll in the medical room, and found Emiko and Taro sitting on their own blankets nearby, whispering to each other and waiting for him.

“Good evening,” Arden said, sitting on his blankets and crossing his legs. “It's late, you know.”

“We've been waiting for you,” said Taro. The young Hyur looked tired, but determined. “Yugiri told us of your leader’s offer to take us somewhere and give us work and homes. We want to know more.”

“Yes, please,” said Emiko. She had removed her veil and hood, and her dark hair fell in waves about her shoulders. Her little white horns appeared and disappeared among the waves, their fan-shapes like ornamental pins. Arden could have looked at her for hours. She went on, “Revenant's Toll has such a forbidding sound. Have you been there? What's it like?”

Arden thought about it. “It's an interesting place. Revenant's Toll is a fort built on a mountain pass above a huge lake. Some years ago, a Garlean airship and the eldest of dragons had a battle there and plunged into the lake. Both are still visible above the waters. The aetheric explosion was so powerful that it crystallized half the lake shore, trees and all. It's a very strange area. However, the other side of the ridge overlooks a lush, swampy area, so there's warmth and green on one side and a strange, windy crystal landscape on the other.”

Emiko and Taro exchanged glances. 

“It's better than the desert, I suppose,” said Taro.

“We can live anywhere,” said Emiko, sounding as if she were reassuring herself as much as her brother. She returned her attention to Arden. “Yugiri said there are merchants looking for help?”

Arden explained how Revenant's Toll was the main trade hub between the southern city states and Coerthas, where the isolated nation of Ishgard resided. He described the daily cartloads of goods that traveled there, the year-round marketplace, the rich and rare goods exchanged. Emiko and Taro 's eyes grew round with wonder and excitement.

“That's more like it!” Taro exclaimed. “Sister, you and I will be able to build a good life for ourselves!”

“It certainly sounds like it,” said Emiko. She turned to Arden. “Will you be in Revenant's Toll much? I have the impression that you travel a lot.”

Arden wasn't sure how she had figured that out, but maybe she’d heard things around the Waking Sands. He nodded and looked sheepish. “I work for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and a certain amount of travel goes along with that. But I'll be in and out of Revenant's Toll every week or so, I imagine.”

Emiko tilted her head to one side in a way he found irresistible. “What do the Scions do, exactly? At first I thought you were merchants, but you all carry an awful lot of weaponry.”

Arden drew a deep breath, wondering how much to tell. “Well, we defend Eorzea, for one thing. We’re trying to end wars and bring peace between the city-states. Also … this means that we kill primals.”

“Primals?” Emiko said, frowning. “You mean … the gods?”

“A primal is not a god,” said Arden. “For instance, the Amalj'aa worship Ifrit. With a lot of aether crystals and prayer, they can summon forth a facsimile of Ifrit. It looks and sounds like him, but it's been programmed by their own desires. In exchange, it tempers them, turning them into energy furnaces it can feed on. It also draws aether from the land, slowly killing it. You see why someone must slay these false gods?”

Emiko and Taro stared at him. Taro slowly grinned. “I want to help slay a god. By the Kami, what a fight that must be!”

Emiko gazed steadily at Arden. “Have you killed any gods?”

“A few,” said Arden, avoiding her eyes. “But they are long tales and it's late. We have much to do tomorrow and I am weary.” He rolled himself in his blanket with his back to them. He listened as Taro and Emiko climbed into their blankets as well. They whispered together for a while, mostly Taro exclaiming about wanting to join the Scions and Emiko arguing against it. Arden lay there with uneasiness in his heart and wondered how much harm he had just caused.

Chapter Text

The next day, Arden was up before Emiko and Taro. He grabbed a leftover loaf from the kitchen and went to the stables to collect his chocobo.

Swift had been growing fat and lazy in the paddock behind the stables. He grumbled sleepily when Arden awoke him, and complained still more about the saddle and bridle.

“Dark still!” the bird chirped, his crest flattened to his head in annoyance. “Not wanting! Leave!”

“Greens?” Arden wheedled, holding up a Gysahl green like a cabbage.

The chocobo eyed the green and snapped his beak peevishly. But he gobbled up the green and allowed Arden to finish harnessing him.

“You only need carry me as far as the next town,” Arden told him as they rode out into the predawn darkness. “I will take the aetheryte from there.”

Swift didn't answer, too grumpy to talk. He set off up the road in his roughest gait as if punishing his rider for dragging him out so early.

Arden let him run most of the way to Horizon, the nearest town with an aetheryte a mile away. Eventually Swift ran off his bad mood, and in addition had to slow to pant for breath. Arden ruefully reminded himself to give the bird daily exercise, or he would be swift no longer. They plodded through the Horizon gates at dawn, and Arden turned Swift over to a sleepy chocobo handler. “I'll be back for him in a few days,” said Arden, and set off for the aetheryte.

He had a deep-rooted fear of the giant transport crystals. Arden would rather walk or take an airship than risk losing himself in the aether stream that carried a body and soul from place to place. However, he needed to get to Revenant's Toll in a hurry, and there wasn't time for a six-hour airship flight. So he paid the mage operator, who set the destination and waved him through.

Arden touched the aetheryte crystal. There was a brief flash of light, and he was standing beside the matching crystal in Revenant's Toll. It was foggy and chilly here, the mist hiding the stone walls and buildings of the fort. But already voices called, wagon wheels rumbled, and chocobos whistled. The merchant town was far busier than Horizon.

Arden set off at a walk down the cobblestone street and around a corner, to the building the Garlond Ironworks used as a garage. Arden had a special key, and let himself in the narrow office door.

The garage was unoccupied at the moment, the office tidy and dim. Beyond it, the cold, echoing garage hosted three magitek inventions in various stages of construction. Arden wasn't sure what they were, but he thought they might be engines. Powered down in the back corner was the magitek reaper, Maggie.

The reaper was a two-legged walker that resembled a mechanical chocobo. It had black armor in the Garlean style, and resembled any other reaper except for the yellow decal painted on her side. Arden climbed into the cockpit and powered her up, his fingers fumbling as he remembered the controls. Once he had been quite familiar with them, but it had been a few months, and he was forgetting.

The screen in the control panel lit with green light and text flowed across it. “Operator?”

“Hello Maggie,” said Arden. “It's me.”

The text changed to an image of a happy face. The reaper gave a series of little jerks, as if dancing for joy.

“Now, now,” Arden said. “I'm happy to see you again, too. Fuel status?” 

The reaper’s tank and backup were full. Satisfied, Arden opened the big garage doors and took the reaper out into the street. Locking the doors behind him, he engaged Maggie’s flight thrusters and launched them into the hazy sky, heading south, back toward Vesper Bay.

Maggie had originally been stolen from a Garlean patrol for a mission. But her broken core had been replaced with a mammet heart, giving the reaper the ability to think and to have feelings. For some reason she had decided that Arden was her master and no one else, so Cid Garlond had passed ownership to him.

Even with Maggie's speedy thrusters, Arden had a couple of hours to think and plan. He waited until the sun peered above the edge of the world, then called Cid on his linkpearl. Cid said that adding a hitch to the reaper was no problem, and to bring her by the Ironworks garage outside of Ul’dah.

Next, Arden called Minfilia and told her that he was enroute.

“Perfect,” she said. “We’re in the process of renting wagons and gathering chocobos. Yugiri gave me her formal acceptance half an hour ago, so we’re committed.”

“Good,” said Arden. He cleared his throat. “Minfilia … I want to make sure that Emiko and Taro are well cared for. Taro wishes to join the Scions as a fighter. But I'm not sure what to do about Emiko.”

Minfilia sighed. “At this point, we are constrained by our resources and our generosity. Do what you think is best, Arden. I wish to help all the Domans, too, but this is the best I can do. Perhaps she’ll make her own way.”

“Perhaps.” Arden sighed. “Thank you for your patience. I'll be back as soon as Cid can attach a towing hitch.”

He hung up and went back to brooding. He had only been at it for a few minutes when Maggie's screen lit up. “Want to play a game?”

Arden hadn’t known that Maggie could do that. Curious, he said, “Yes.”

Maggie displayed four different games: Mahjong, Triple Triad, Thanalan Hold ‘em, and Chess. Arden had a particular weakness for Triple Triad, so he selected that one.

He spent the rest of the flight playing against Maggie, whom he was pretty sure was cheating but could never quite catch her at it. Still, he won a few games, and it passed the time enjoyably until he reached Ul’dah.

Garlond Ironworks was housed in one of the large industrial buildings outside the city walls on the south side. Some things were too dangerous or smelly to keep inside the city walls, such as large furnaces, ore refineries, and large-scale leather curing. The Ironworks was one of these, due to its demand for all three.

Cid Garlond met Arden at the gates and let him in. “So! Maggie’s going to earn her keep, is she? Bring her on in, I'll see what we can do.”

Arden marched Maggie into the factory and parked her in a maintenance stall. As he climbed out, Cid said, “Better go grab a bite to eat. This will take an hour or two.”

Arden was happy to obey. He secured himself a much better second breakfast from a street vendor. When he returned to the Ironworks, Cid’s assistants had just finished bolting a hitch to Maggie’s axle.

“You'll want to attach it to a chocobo cart like this,” Cid said, showing Arden a diagram. “It's designed to work with a standard chocobo yoke, and thankfully reapers aren't that much bigger than a Destrier. Make sure to put Maggie into towing mode or she’ll break the singletree.”

“Right,” Arden said. He rolled up the diagram and set off for Vesper Bay.

He arrived just after noon to find the Waking Sands courtyard jammed with carts. The Domans were busy unloading their belongings from their ship and dividing them among the carts. It was an orderly chaos of people, crates, trunks, and children running everywhere.

As he parked Maggie and climbed out, Emiko and Taro hurried up to him.

“Minfilia told us you owned a Garlean reaper!” Emiko exclaimed. “But I scarcely believed it until you rode up in it! However did you come by it?”

“That's a story for another time,” Arden grinned. “How goes the packing?”

“Steady,” said Emiko, watching her brother. Taro was all over the reaper, running his hands along the legs and body, climbing into the cockpit and fingering the controls. 

“Hey now, easy,” said Arden. “I'll teach you to drive her tomorrow.”

Taro beamed. “You will? I could drive a reaper?”

“Her name is Maggie,” said Arden. “Be polite or she won't do a thing you say. Mammet heart, you know.” He turned to Emiko, whose eyes were shining above her veil. “Tell me what to do and I'll help load.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of work. But by the time the sun set, the carts were loaded, the goods tied down under tarps. A few of the men volunteered to guard them overnight, the waterfront being what it was. Everyone else retreated indoors for a last, jovial meal in the Waking Sands.

Emiko and Taro sat with Arden and kept up a stream of excited chatter. Arden listened to them as he ate and his heart was glad. Then the Domans started up a traditional dance with a number of instruments they had brought with them. Taro got up and joined in, but Emiko stayed with Arden.

“Don't you want to dance?” he asked her.

She leaned against his side. “My feet already hurt from working. Maybe some other time.”

He put his arm around her and leaned against the wall, watching the dancers. Emiko grew warmer and heavier against him, and soon was asleep. Arden sat there with his arm around her, watching the dancing, listening to the music, and happier than he’d been in many months.

The next day, carts were hitched to chocobos, the reaper was hooked to four carts in a chain, and the caravan began its journey through the deserts of Thanalan.

Fortunately the road to Mor Dhona was good and well maintained because of the heavy merchant traffic. The carts rolled more or less smoothly along the gravel roads, shaded by the balloons, which lightened each cart enough that chocobos could draw it.

Maggie the reaper settled in to her new task gamely. Arden spent some time during hookup to explain what was happening and how much she was helping. Maggie liked it when he explained things to her. When she took her first few steps hooked to the carts, Arden and the passengers cheered. A little shudder ran through Maggie’s frame, and heart icons appeared on her screen. After that she settled into her new job with a will.

By noon they had left Ul’dah behind and were winding their way over a ridge of hills. They reached a wide place in the road where caravans usually halted to rest their animals, and had their noonday meal. The children ran about laughing and shouting, watched by anxious parents.

A keen winter wind sent searching fingers into every crack and crevice. The elderly in the carts shivered and pulled their cloaks tighter around them. Arden frowned into the wind, and after a while, even he dug out his warm White Mage robe and put it on.

“I wondered how long you could stand it,” said Emiko, watching him fasten the clasps. “It's grown colder as we left the valley floor.” She wore a plain blue tunic and dress made of warm wool, and high boots below that. Her brother wore a similar tunic and woolen trousers, and both of them were rosy-cheeked but comfortable.

Arden grinned. “I've talked so much about the harsh weather of the Azim Steppes, I felt I had a reputation to maintain. Don't tell Thancred.”

“Not a word,” Emiko agreed, smiling.

They moved on again, and Arden found Maggie’s open cockpit a cold, uncomfortable place as the wind strengthened. What must the Garleans do in rain and foul weather? Surely they had a canopy or something to place over the cockpit. Perhaps he could borrow a tarp.

They crested the hills and wound their way down the far side, where the slopes were more gradual and studded with clumps of trees. Arden had never taken this road before, and enjoyed the scenery as they entered Central Thanalan. It was a harsh, colorful landscape of blue sky, red rock, and green brush and cactus. A flock of wild goats startled and bounded away from them.

Once the road straightened out, Arden signaled a quick halt and climbed from the reaper. “Taro! Would you like to drive for a while?”

“Would I ever!” The youth leaped from the cart and clambered into the reaper’s cockpit. Arden showed him the controls and helped him set Maggie in motion. Then Arden swung up into a cart for a rest.

He found a seat across from Emiko, between two Hyur women who looked at him carefully, and then at Emiko. Arden and Emiko were smiling at each other so much that it was obvious they were sweet on each other. The women exchanged glances around Arden and tittered.

“Every time we talk, you tell me that such and such is a long tale,” said Emiko. “Well, now is the time for such tales. Tell us of the gods you've slain!”

The other passengers murmured uncertainly and exchanged glances.

“Not gods,” Arden corrected. “Primals. Counterfeit gods that drain the aether from the land.” As the passengers calmed, he thought about the Ifrit story. Could he tell that one without sickening himself? Maybe he could embellish it a little, and distance himself from it in the process.

“It all began with a shady merchant on the streets of Ul’dah.”

He instantly had the complete attention of everyone in the cart.

He told the story of the merchant who lured the poor and desperate into the desert, only to sell them to the Amalj'aa as sacrifices. He enhanced his story by pointing at the desert around them, explaining how the lizard men would hide behind rocks just like those before falling upon their victims. The children in the cart huddled closer to their mothers and listened raptly. 

Arden stayed more or less on script until he reached his own capture. His guilt over the fate of the soldiers who had accompanied him resurfaced to stab him with fresh knives. He faltered and fell silent for a moment, gazing at the horizon. He had to tell it differently, that was all. Focus on his own heroic deeds. Make it seem like he was alone. That was it.

When he resumed his story, Emiko peered at him curiously, as if sensing something had changed. But she said nothing, content to listen.

Arden made it sound like he alone had been captured, and he alone had been offered to the primal. After that it grew easier to describe the demon and its fire, and of how, in a last desperate spell, had conjured a stalagmite so huge that it impaled Ifrit and killed him. His audience gasped in amazement.

“Did this really happen?” inquired one of the men.

“All of it,” said Arden. “Ask any of the Scions, especially Thancred. He was involved in drawing out the merchant.”

“And you say you have this Echo power,” said another man. “And it lets you slay gods.” He turned to a companion. “Not unlike Tenzen, perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” said the other. “But without the assistance of auspices.”

Emiko clasped her hands and beamed. “Arden, that was so exciting! What was the next one you fought?”

“Titan,” said Arden. “But to understand how I defeated him, you must first hear of my journey into the blighted city of Amdapor.”

Those stories were fun to tell, for no one had died, despite the dangers they faced. Arden cheered up and enjoyed embellishing his descriptions of the ruins covered in rot, the wall of lilies, and the White Mage magic he had learned. When he described how he had used his lilies to slowly tear Titan apart from the inside, he was interrupted by many questions. People demanded to see the lily spell, which he obliged. It seemed that white magic was known in Doma, although it was little practiced and somewhat feared. He was forced to describe how he had destroyed Titan all over again, which he did with relish. Compared to Ifrit, Titan hadn't been so bad.

“Were there any more after that?” Emiko asked, hands clasped and eyes shining.

“Just one,” said Arden. “Garuda, the goddess of wind. But you'll never guess her fate.” He told the story of Gauda being seized and eaten by the Ultima Weapon, pride of the Fourteenth Garlean Legion. This darkened the mood as the listeners muttered angry things about the Garleans.

“You need not worry about the Garleans now,” Arden reassured them. “We gathered the Grand Companies and coordinated a strike against all the Castrums at once. My friend Arenvald and I went after the Ultima Weapon.”

The news that Garlemald had been defeated in Eorzea cheered the Domans greatly. They listened to his tale of fighting his way through the Praetorium, of encountering Livia and Nero, of Gaius’s job offer, and of the duel against the Weapon. They were a perfect audience and gasped in all the right places. When Lahabrea entered the scene, Arden had to stop and explain.

“We’re not certain what Ascians are, exactly,” he told them. “They wield great power in service to their god of darkness. They must borrow bodies to give form to their spirits. Lahabrea had stolen a friend of mine and masqueraded as him for weeks. We were devastated to find this out.”

“What happened then?” Emiko asked, her hands folded under her chin.

Arden told the story, feeling as if his mind was full of dust. He had told the Scions this story only one other time and never mentioned it again, trying to bury the memory. That part of his mind had grown rusty, and he had to stop and think to recall certain details. Looking back on it, he felt fierce joy at the way he had fought the Ultima Weapon and the Ascian. He never wanted to do it again, truly, but maybe he didn't need to try to forget.

These stories carried them all the way to their evening camp. This was a wide spot at the foot of the hills before the long climb into the mountains of Mor Dhona. There were other merchants already camped there, and the campground was a busy, noisy place with chocobos whistling to each other, fires burning, voices and laughter. Various armed retainers watched the Doman caravan roll in, but offered no threat as the families and children emerged from the carts.

As the adults set about pitching tents and building cook fires, Arden somehow found himself looking after the children. He had unhitched Swift from the cart he had been pulling all day. Swift complained about being thirsty, so Arden took him to the well and drew water to fill the drinking trough. On their way back, the Doman children thronged him and asked to pet his chocobo.

At first, Swift stood with his head held high, staring at the children with his dark eyes overly bright. “What are they? Danger?”

“Hyur chicks,” Arden assured him. “Very young hyur. They are small. They will not hurt you.”

The chocobo lowered his head to look at the children more closely. “Hyur chicks! I have never seen these.”

“Are you talking to the bird, Mr. Ardakim?” one of the girls asked.

“Of course,” said Arden with a smile. “He's never seen children before and he's frightened. Come this way and I'll show you how to make friends.” 

He led Swift toward the cart that carried their baggage and food supplies. He located a crate of ghysal greens and pulled out one. It resembled a head of cabbage. Handing it to the oldest boy, he said, “Hold this out and say, ‘Here Swift!’”

The boy obeyed, holding the green out in his fingertips. Swift eyed the boy and the green for a few seconds before snatching up the green and gobbling it down. The children gasped, then laughed.

Arden handed out greens, and the children took turns feeding the huge bird. Swift calmed down and lost his fear of Hyur chicks. As long as they fed him his favorite snack, he didn't care what they looked like.

Naturally, this entertainment attracted all the Doman children, to the amusement of their mothers. There were even a few Auri children among them, their horns and tails carefully wrapped.

“Say, Mr. Ardakim,” said one of the boys. “What made you want to become an adventurer, anyway?”

“Accident, mostly,” Arden replied. “I came here to train in the healing arts to assist my people in the Azim Steppes. But my skills were more useful than I could have imagined.”

“So you just accidentally got a chocobo and a magitek reaper?” asked one of the girls. They were all clustered around his knees now, and they hadn't missed that he had piloted the warmachina.

Arden laughed. “That's a very long story on its own.”

“Could I be an adventurer?” one of the boys asked.

“And me!” chorused the others.

“Sure,” Arden replied. “But it takes hard work. You must train every day and grow strong enough to use weapons. You must learn how to defeat monsters and machines. And if you're extra brave and smart, you can learn how to heal injured people.”

Every eye was fixed on him in wonder. “Being a healer is harder than fighting monsters?” asked a boy.

Arden nodded. “Indeed. You see, a warrior must have great strength. A healer needs equal strength, but he must keep it under control. All that strength goes into his healing magic to mend wounds and save lives.”

“I fell out of the wagon and scraped my arm,” announced one girl, displaying a reddened elbow. “Can you heal it?”

Arden took his staff from the cart and pointed it at her elbow. He channeled the faintest of Cure spells. Green sparkles flowed from the staff into her arm, and the scrape vanished. The children exclaimed in amazement.

“He healed my dad,” said one of the Auri boys. “My dad had a hole in his leg this big and Mr. Ardakim healed it all up. There's barely even a scar.”

“He saved my mom,” said a little girl. “She had that cough that killed Grandma, and I was scared Mama would die, too. But she's better now.”

Arden glanced up to see Taro and Emiko loitering nearby, listening to this talk. When they saw they had been noticed, they approached with smiles. “Your dinner is ready, little ones,” Emiko announced. “Find your mothers!”

The children scattered with shouts of joy. Taro and Emiko remained with Arden, who took out his feather cloths and began cleaning the dirt of the road off Swift.

“You're very good with children,” said Emiko, seating herself in the back of the wagon.

“I used to be a child,” said Arden, wiping down the bird’s right leg. “They ask good questions.”

“I'd like to be an adventurer,” said Taro, picking up a feather cloth and moving to help. Swift was busy with a trough of grain and paid no attention. “The fellow with white hair, Thancred, said that Revenant’s Toll is a hot spot for adventurers. Once things calm down, I want to train.”

Arden looked at Emiko, who had a forlorn expression. “You would leave your sister alone? Adventurers might be away for months at a time. Sometimes they don't return at all.”

“Well,” Taro sputtered. “Well, you're an adventurer. I see you making eyes at Emiko, but you might not come back, either.”

Arden glared at him, but he had to admit that the young hyur was right. Arden scrubbed a clot of mud off Swift’s foot and tried to think of something to say. The thought of leaving Emiko to fend for herself in Revenant's Toll galled him. And what if some other enterprising man snapped her up? He couldn't face the thought of losing her.

“Let's get to town first,” Emiko said soothingly. “We have to figure out where we’re to live and what jobs there are before we can go making plans.”

Arden looked up at her and smiled. She had such a way of diffusing his worries. “We’ll settle things to the satisfaction of everyone, you'll see.”