Archive of Our Own

"Ah, the conqueror of Copperbell returns!"

First, the Gridanian envoy cleared out the Serpent Reavers—a group of Sahagin-backed pirates terrorizing western La Noscea—from Mistbeard’s former haunt in the Sastasha Seagrot, and freed the women those fiends had taken captive. Next, he led the charge into the forsaken Gelmorran ruins of the Tam-Tara Deepcroft, finishing what another adventuring party could not and routing not just the cultish worshippers of Dalamud, but the voidsent they summoned for good measure.

Now, here in Momodi's Quicksand, the Sharlayans listened in quietly on their acquaintance’s latest achievement, concealing themselves amidst the rabble of the inn. Just as Painted Mesa exclaimed, Ul’dah may resume its mining operations unimpeded, and procure as much material for the rebuilding effort as needed. The Sultana would have this Forwin Tyrell to thank for that, just as the Elder Seedseer and Admiral would for the dangers he recently toppled in their own domains.

Papalymo had his suspicions about him, ever since he and Yda happened upon him at Lifemend Stump. Thrice he and Yda crossed paths with him now, and with all they witnessed thus far, it would appear that the Antecedent made the right call to have the young man followed. No, Forwin was not one of the forgotten heroes that Master Louisoix magicked away from Carteneau, this much the Lalafell knew after speaking to Kan-E-Senna at length about the boy. It was what Gridania's Pajdal head of state had to share after the archer lost consciousness during the Greenbliss ceremonies, however, that would not leave his mind.

This Midlander child hailed from Ishgard, and arrived in the city-state not long after the Ixal first summoned the Lady of the Vortex. Exposed to a surfeit of wind aether during the ordeal, Wyndell Garth’s health deteriorated over time, so much so that the boy would not live to see adulthood… that was, until the day came when he woke up healed and whole from his condition five years ago, come the advent of the original Warriors of Light! While Wyndell vanished from the Black Shroud afterwards, Kan-E-Senna suspected that he went on to adopt a sobriquet and, after some time spent among the local guilds under his new identity, struck out on his own adventure.

To think that someone like him flew under their noses for five whole years! Could it truly be that the Mothercrystal had chosen another, at the time? The signs were certainly there. The "dizzy spells" at Lifemend Stump, the Spirithold, and Mih Ketto’s Amphitheatre. That he could see Kuplo Kopp—a moogle!—in broad daylight, and later recognized himself and Yda as Sharlayans without their saying so. Then there was the miraculous nature of his recovery, never mind the timing. Between all of these, it was no coincidence that Papalymo found him familiar! This nagging feeling that Forwin was just like them would not leave his head!

Despite it all, there was the final matter of his character that the late great Archon’s finest pupil wished to assess. Nothing personal against the alias-totting Hyur, for he appeared to be the amicable sort in the handful of times they met, but being at the right places at the right times said little about the man himself. His strength and skill were impressive already—Yda would openly welcome extra muscle to their cause, beyond herself and Thancred—but the monocled mage knew these were not impressive alone. In what manner does he act under pressure? How willing is he to take action? Where does his moral compass lie? From inquiring the odd Eorzean he helped between his dungeon delvings, he did not give the impression of the type to seek rewards, and he certainly held his own against that Ascian in the Twelveswood…

…so could he be worthy to join their order?

“Papalymo? Hello~? Are you even listening?”

The lilt of singsong from his combat-ready companion pulled him up from his rumination, though not from the topic at hand. Having chewed on a piece of dark pretzel for some time, the Plainsfolk Lalafellin took a moment to wash down his food with tea. Her idle musings had gone on ignored, lost in thought as he was, though he did not meet her words with his usual scolding.

“Yda, answer me honestly: what do you make of him?”

Almost taken aback from the lack of expected admonishment, the pugilist could not help but blink in surprise… or one would assume, if her mask did not conceal the upper half of her face. Ergo, it did nothing to hide her beaming.

“What, no ‘Do you not see that I am eating!?,’ or a ‘Can it not wait?!’ from you? Or would it be more like—?”

“—just answer the damned question already.”

‘Ah, there it is.’ She grinned proudly to herself from the rise she managed to get out of her irritated peer, though she would confess, this new friend of theirs had crossed her mind more than once of late.

With jaw at rest in her gloved palm, her gaze centred on the two men standing by the one of the entrances. Even with the dim lighting of the bar, she could see the feather-capped young man clearly, while he filled Painted Mesa in on all that occurred within the Copperbell Mines. She could only make out the odd word or two from this distance, no thanks to the ambient brouhaha muddying his report further, but she did see how animated he became with his retelling. If not for the bits and pieces of well-read vocabulary she did catch, his exuberance could be mistaken for something childlike. It was as if he were both storyteller and captive audience in one person! Given the sheltered, bedridden life he led until relatively recently, it made sense to her that his personality turned out this way, like he only ever knew how to wear his heart on his sleeve…

Viewed under a different light, it was as if he were making up for all the time he had lost, and adventuring became his way of coping. She understood that feeling all too well, for there was no taking back time stolen from you. Not that his wonderment wasn’t the least bit infectious, thankfully, given she failed to repress the appreciative smile that relaxed from her once coquettish smirk.

“—by the Twelve, you should have………size of him! Over………height and many times my………—a round swing of its mace could………whole battlefield! Then suddenly—”

‘…hm.’

Ultimately, and begrudgingly, she had to tune him out by the time he emphasized the size of horns protruding from the helm of his fallen foe, given the noise within the Quicksand proved to be impossible to overcome from this range.

“I like him,” she answered in earnest, turning her attention squarely back onto Papalymo. “Come on, Papalymo, he’s already a Scion in all but name! At the rate he’s going about things, he’ll sooner hear of us before we end up inviting him. Why wait?”

“You think so?” He did not wholly disagree to the idea, pending another round of observations or two. Yda’s clever quip did succeed in tugging some mirth out from the corner of his lips, just as he set his emptied teacup back onto the coaster set for him on the table, but it did not take long before they returned to their usual pursing. In the end, Minfilia did leave the final decision to recruit Forwin up to them, trusting in their judgement should he be found wanting. Papalymo was simply the type to dot his i’s and cross his t’s; if they were to make up for the Warriors of Light they lost long ago, then they both needed to be absolutely certain about this potential newcomer of the Seventh Dawn. “I suppose there is some truth in that… To my recollection, even Y'shtola and Thancred found some promising candidates, though they do lack the same gift as—”

“—NOOOOO!!!”

The shrill cry cut into the tavern atmosphere, and all noise within the edifice immediately stifled under the anxiety-inducing air. Some heads turned to watch the doors leading out towards the Steps of Nald, a few other customers rose up from their chairs to watch if anything would come inside… though none of the Quicksand's usual patrons made any effort to investigate for themselves. Not one able-bodied soul within the establishment dared to.

‘Cowards, the whole lot.’ Teeth grit with unspoken frustration and disappointment towards every apathetic occupant inside, Yda took the initiative herself and made for the main thoroughfare out north, cutting past a curiously solitary Painted Mesa.

“Wh-! Wait a moment, Yda!” By the time he managed to come down from his seat and set Auriflex upon his back, the fistfighter was already long gone, leaving her vexed cane-wielder in the lurch. “Of course…” All he could do now was relent to his misfortune and give chase before she gets herself in trouble. Before he could make for a full sprint, his eyes found themselves set on Painted Mesa once again. Only now do they register they found the Roegadyn standing alone, and Papalymo’s steps faltered to a halt as he followed the taller man's gaze to the western doors. Finally coming to a close themselves, the entrance sealed shut, just as the ends of a green cape slipped through.

The envoy was long gone.

“Shut your mouth, you thieving little swine! You stole from me─don't even think to deny it!”

“P-Please, sir, I didn't steal nothin’!”

With how quickly she neared the scene, she could clearly hear the accusation mercilessly being lobbed at whoever screamed in terror. Danger loomed, as if mortal peril threatened to sink its fangs into the victim's neck at any moment.

“I b-bought this─paid for it with me own coin!”

“What rot! You refugees are all the same─couldn't afford maggoty mole meat, much less a choice cut of dodo!”

Now her blood started boiling, just as she realized the accuser’s play before she had arrived. If that plea for help failed to make her seethe, then this merchant’s offensive claims certainly hit home. Many a community had fallen in the aftermath of the Calamity, with its peoples forced to resettle, so small wonder that some would brave the journey all the way to Ul’dah, the foremost city of commerce and riches in Eorzea. It also happened that a significant subset of these displaced souls are Ala Mhigan, so with such a possibility weighing heavy on her mind, she could not afford to ignore this now. She would not allow herself to.

“I swear to Rhalgr, I’m going to—!”

Before Yda could reach the confrontation herself, hissed words rising from her throat with increasing volume, she felt the diminutive hand of her teammate grab onto her own and forcefully pull back. Papalymo may have caught up to her faster than any regular person could from the distance she made, but for him, it was nothing a little aetherial manipulation could not accomplish.

“Yda, stand down! Do not interfere, not yet!” the mage urged, just to have his taller companion turn around and come shy of snapping back at him.

“You’re joking!” Any louder, and the crowd up ahead will have reason to turn around and gawk at them instead, but she could not help her building rage! In ordinary circumstances, Papalymo would not deign to reel her in, feeling her anger as his own, but this time was anything but ordinary. “Of all people, you should understand-!”

“That is not what I mean! Look!”

Following his gloved finger pointing through the watching populace, she could see him now: woodland greens rushing to the scene as fast as he could.

“I’m going to say it one more time…”

With his legs moving before he could even think to stop himself, Forwin had burst out onto the Ruby Road Exchange and veered a hard right towards commotion central. Taking care not to run headlong into anyone, be they brokers, shoppers, or the Miqo'te dancers putting on a show, he had to bob and weave between these slack-jawed bystanders, following their own sights aimed at the source of the earlier scream. No mysteries as to where, then.

“—give back what you stole, or I'll make you wish you'd never set foot in this town!”

At last, the envoy could allow himself to slow down, seamlessly joining the ring of unwitting civilians looking on. From beneath the brim of his feathered cap, Forwin could see the stage being set for the stomach-churning play before him: both the woman to his right who yelled out in distress moments ago, and the four men ganging up on her from his left.

Three of them were armed, from what he could discern.

Drifting Wasp, the Roegadyn with a pair of ramhorn claws.

Mathye, a hooded Midlander with a copper sceptre.

Powle, the other Midlander with a bronze spatha and buckler.

The fourth, the scarfaced Hyur making a public display of raking the poor refugee over the coals, sported no visible weaponry… but from that distinct fade and frohawk, the maintained goatee, and the fancy kurta he sported, this man gave off the air of a somewhat well-to-do merchant.

Definitely not a respectable one, judging from his boorish behaviour. Forwin’s brow deepened, and he could feel his teeth starting to gnash just watching, before his stomach writhed in disgust from what he heard next.

“By rights, I should turn you over to the Brass Blades, you know─help keep the streets safe for law-abiding citizens,” pressed Ungust, the obnoxious tradesman, who wasted no time in making his intentions clear with a sickening, hungry sneer. “But I'm a reasonable man. If you agree to serve me in…whatever capacity I require, the authorities needn't hear of your crime.”

His three hired hands all laughed in agreement, heartily, loudly, and completely shamelessly. Once their laughter died down, led by Ungust, they all took a foreboding step forward towards their mark. And then another. Confident as they were with the Gate of Nald open behind them, it would be easy for them to kidnap her and make a break for it into Thanalan’s expansive desert, should the Immortal Flames come running.

“B-But I ain't done nothin' wrong! Twelve as me witness!” Eyes brimming with tears, chest heaving with the onset of hopeless, helpless sobs, Tieve looked around at the crowd gathered with her at their centre. Some people already took an awkward step back, not wanting to get involved or hurt themselves. A couple have walked away entirely, choosing not to have seen anything. Even armed adventurers of equal stature to the biggest of Ungust’s baddies refused to budge!

From their vantage point behind the fountain splitting the Ruby Road stairs, the Sharlayans looked on with bated breath. If the masked blonde gripped onto the railing any harder, the metal might just snap under the pressure. Papalymo, for his part, managed to steel his nerve, though it pained him not to jump in right away. Under ordinary circumstances, these two would not hesitate to spare this despairing maiden from her plight. But this test of character was not for them, for her eyes finally met his.

Her last hope.

“P-Please, adventurer! Help me, I beg o' ye!” Reaching out to her only remaining lifeline in Forwin, the refugee could no longer contain her fear and sorrow. Her wails intensified. “I swear on me mother's grave, I didn't steal nothin'! I bought this with the coin I'd saved... I-I only wanted to treat me children to a decent meal…! PLEASE!”

“Enough mewling already. You’re coming with us!” Ungust almost lunged for the woman, who shrivelled up on herself now when she saw him near from her peripheral. For all she knew, she was done for, and all but resigned to her fate.

Before Ungust could close the gap between himself and his prey, an arrow cut in with a sharp TWANG from his right, piercing between cobblestone hardly an inch before his toes! A startled shout escaped from his throat, and he doubled back in great shock, almost stumbling into his stooges in the process. Had he taken another step, he would have lost his foot outright! That someone in this crowd of hapless onlookers had the balls to snipe at him…!

Meanwhile, Yda and Papalymo could not be any more joyful and relieved, now that the only one among them with any ounce of courage stepped in. Heart on his sleeve indeed!

“…I’m getting a closer look,” hushed the petite Highlander, running down the stairs and skulking behind the crowd unseen before Papalymo could raise a single objection. The studious sorcerer had long given up on trying to rein Yda in this day, though he would give her points for restraining herself from joining the fray. He followed close behind her so they now remain hidden behind the signpost by the Gate, while the scene below continued to play out.

“Not. Another. Gods-damned step.”

With a snarl, Ungust narrowed his glare in the intervening speaker’s way. The people around the adventurer quickly dispersed, exposing him promptly, but Forwin had no intention of running from this fight, not if his drawn shortbow of ash and that look of cold fury in his eyes towards the merchandiser had anything to say about it.

“And who the hells are you when you're at home? This dog's master?!”

“I see only one lowly beast here, though it is most certainly not the fair lady behind me,” Forwin shot back, slowly marching up to take his place on the stage now that his cue has been called, and deliberately positioned himself between aggressor and target. “You and yours should walk away now, before I put you lot down like the witless animals you are! Do you often make a point of harassing women who say no to you?”

“Ha! Big man playing hero, are you?” Ungust could hardly contain his amusement before the other's display of bravado, his own derision and arrogance heightening! “Who are you to call me witless? Take a good look, you overconfident prat—we clearly have you outnumbered!”

“That may be so… but there is a marked difference between outnumbered and outmatched. Too bereft of coin to afford basic manners, are we? Let alone a cheap thesaurus?” It may sound like an empty boast to some, but at this point of his journey, the burgeoning Warrior of Light had every reason to believe in himself and his growing strength. Denn the Orcatoothed, Galvanth the Dominator, Gyges the Great—fearsome fiends, all—now lay dead, never mind every minion and monster he and other adventurers fought through in their dungeons to reach them. He knew his limits, but these crooks would not bring him remotely close to scratching it. Such confidence showed, as the timbre of his voice remained unnervingly stern, Forwin uncowed by the blatant threat. In spite of this, the little showman in his heart looked forward in making a fool out of Ungust, if the coolly composed smile etching itself on his features was of any indication.

Cunning weasel that he was, Ungust knew a poor and blatant provocation when he heard one. Thus, he saw no reason to stoop to Forwin's level, choosing to let the other speak and further dig his own grave. Cooler heads will prevail, he knew, and he had been called worse by the very victims he already kidnapped and sold off to the Amal’jaa. All he need do is sic his men onto this boy who stood way out of his depth, and not only would it be over, an extra body would make an even finer payday besides!

Yet, Forwin pressed on.

“Or, perhaps you know it to be a waste of time and money, lamebrain that you are. Is that why you overcompensate with those three show-ponies of yours?” Yes, some mercenaries would take any odd job if it meant feeding themselves. On any other day, he may be more sympathetic towards their circumstances, but as far as Forwin saw matters in this instance? You are the company you keep, and a man like Ungust openly kicking around those weaker and less fortunate than himself was already the lowest of the low, in his eyes. His paid goons were no different. “What, did you hire them simply because they look pretty, or is it that they also agreed to serve you in…whatever capacity you require~?”

Keeping his vicious mockery open-ended, on top of parroting the exact same head tilt and choice of words as Ungust before, the cheeky chap watched as his suggestive tone struck a nerve with all four of them… just as it resonated with some hollers and stifled laughs from the surrounding citizenry, who all came to their own conclusions. Yda may have chortled at the remark if given the chance, only for Papalymo to raise a finger and shush her, lest their position be given away.

“WHAT WAS THAT?!” bellowed Mathye, already looking to blow Forwin into smithereens with his spellcraft. The crooks decided, then, that with all of their combined might against one adventurer whoreson who said one word too many, it came time for them to show just what the trafficker’s coin can afford.

“I’ve had enough of this mummer's farce. You lot!” With their employer’s call, the filthy pugilist, the raucous thaumaturge, and the boastful gladiator keenly took their positions while he hid behind them all. “Teach them a lesson!”

A loud belch broke from Drifting Wasp now, one so gross it rippled the bandana covering his mouth, as he took point and reached down for his gauntlets. “I'll take care o' this. The rest o' ye can watch.”

In turn, Forwin showed them his back and focused on the anxious refugee before him, who had yet to find the will to stand. What fear she felt for herself, it now extended to her protector and the odds seemingly stacked against him. To her astonishment, however, the envoy chose then to kneel down before her, slowly so as not to alarm her, and his temperament changed on a dime. Towards the unscrupulous Ungust and his browbeating cronies, he did not shy away from laying his hatred bare. Towards a frightened young mother too scared to speak? His countenance softened considerably.

“Everything will be all right, miss. Just stay behind me, and I promise you that you will not come to harm,” he assured Tieve, speaking gently and with a comforting expression to match as he set his bow down at her feet. Skilled in the art of archery as he was, he could not afford to risk firing any arrows with too many civilians close. Time for the alternative. “Can I ask you to look after this for me?”

With a nod, she took the instrument of war into her arms and held it close. Forwin rose back onto his feet now and brandished his other weapon of choice, an iron lance, as he faced his foe.

“Awfully sporting of you to wait! I suppose you’re not entirely without manners,” he called, assuming a proper fighting stance with the tip of his spear low. ‘Time to put on a show.’

“’s like I said. I can handle ye MYSELF!” Fists armed with the ramhorn’s blades, the inebriated boxer hopped on the tips of his toes to warm himself up quick, then charged!

The last few times they crossed paths, Yda saw Forwin fight with the trained expertise of a bowman. She reasoned, then, that his choice of melee weaponry would also allow him to keep some distance… but this situation was completely different from before. The first occasion saw him join Papalymo in fending off treants from the rear. The second, she and her Sharlayan companion managed to cut in when an Ascian and his pet gargoyle managed to corner him. And, though she missed the tail-end of his earlier encounter with this black-masked mage, he did manage to fend off a lumbering golem within the confined spaces of Spirithold with naught but his bow.

Here in Ul’dah, however? He fought alone, and with something other than the arm she came to associate him with. Not only that, but these were not mindless monsters or death-defying minions of darkness, but flesh-and-blood mortal men. It brought her tremendous joy to see him openly defy the merchant to defend the refugee, without hesitation and entirely of his own volition, though now she was curious to see how his bravery would manage while on his lonesome. Papalymo was of a similar mind, keeping watch in the event one of the three breaks past Forwin and makes for the woman at the centre of the incident.

As barbed words were slung to and fro and fighters took their positions, Yda’s grip on the pillar’s stone long since relaxed from righteous rage, before tightening anew with bubbling excitement!

Thus did the agitated Lohenguard run forth with armed fists cocked back, swinging both ‘round to slice his target with the sloppiest Twin Snakes strike Forwin had ever seen. Telegraphed as it was, the Gridanian representative stepped back as the blades cut open air right where his abdomen would have been, and subsequently punished his opponent with a hard swing of his polearm’s blunt end, swiping the giant’s skull! The strike was met with some cheers from the audience encircling them, no doubt immersed in the brawl given their choice of entertainment in the Bloodsands, yet none were more drawn into the spectacle than Yda.

“I take it back—you are not pretty at all, up close.”

Complete with an emboldened smirk, Forwin again took up a stance, just as the rocked Roegadyn recentred himself and stood upright with a growl. Hardly a beat passed before the dirty showoff roared and made for the lancer with renewed vigour! Affording his foe little time to react, he made to overwhelm the shorter fighter with a rapid series of punches and kicks strung together. Forwin weathered these blows as best as possible, put on the defensive as he was, feinting any incoming strikes he could with his spear and dance around what he couldn't.

“Hmph! Not bad… for an adventurer!” Swagger began to overtake the larger of the two, letting himself believe he had the spearman on the ropes. Jeers for the thug grew louder while others called for said adventurer to fight back.

Yda, on the other hand, had a feeling concerning the other blond’s intentions. One that saw her shuffle and dance on her feet before long, or so it would seem to the untrained eye, as her movements seemed to mimic his own, up ahead. For every time he leaned left, as did she! He steps right? So does she! Her grin only grew and grew at seeing him go. Has he been moonlighting at the Pugilists’ Guild lately? She contemplated this in silence, but it would track with what she could observe from behind the pillar, considering the fact that Forwin tracked each and every one of Wasp’s attacks and reacted accordingly!

There stood a decisive divide between a hired hand who got by with size alone, and a trained fighter who knew how to properly defend himself—a divide made clear once Forwin pivoted and went on the offensive. He fought as a proper member of the Lancers’ Guild should until this point, having managed to remain calm and composed all the while. Riling up his enemy into making mistakes was an added bonus, one quickly paid in something other than blood! As Forwin doubled back from an attempted reverse roundhouse kick, he landed a true thrust with the blunt end of his weapon right into the pugilist’s abdomen! As if knocking the wind out of the brute wasn’t enough, he followed through with an even harder jab filled with vorpal spirit for good measure, and saw the man lose his strength and fall to his knees.

The double blow to Drifting Wasp's jostled stomach proved too much for him to bear. Now on all fours with forelimbs shaking like the legs of a newborn fawn, there was no stopping the rush of his belly’s contents up his oesophagus, not even his lips’ futile attempt at remaining sealed against its unrelenting and nauseating force. Hunched over, Ungust’s biggest bodyguard puked and coughed, loudly and messily, with his facial cloth and gauntlets all stained from putrid, liquid chunks.

“Ugh... I should've stopped at the seventh ale…”

“That’s the way!”

“YES! Get him!”

“Ew, gross!”

“Wow, he’s supposed to be a pugilist?”

“Go, adventurer guy!”

“GET UP! What the hells am I paying you for, useless arse?! He’s SMALLER than you!” shouted Ungust, almost drowned out in spite of his volume by the applause of surrounding Ul’dahns, all delighting in a heel’s loss. Cold sweat beat down from his furrowed brow now as his fists shook with growing frustration—by now, he hoped to have been long gone towards Eastern Thanalan with prisoners one and two in tow. Instead, the worst case scenario began to unfold before his silvery eyes.

“THEN STOP BLOODY GAWPIN’ AT ME!” The sick-stained slugger snapped, struggling to get back onto his feet with the realization that he could no longer take Forwin on by himself, not at this rate. As much as it pained Drifting Wasp to see his earlier boasts amount to naught, putting this mouthy brat in his place took priority now, glory be damned. “Mathye! Powle! Give me a hand, will ye!?”

“Now here comes trouble…” Papalymo huffed, already moving to grab the slung Auriflex hanging off his back as the two remaining party members entered the fray… yet it wouldn’t budge from its place. Peering behind him, he could see his partner holding it in place singlehandedly, prompting him to look up to her. Her gaze was trained on Forwin the entire time, her jubilant smile refusing to abate. “Yda, what are you-?”

“He can handle himself. In fact, I’d wager he’s about to finish it!” Of the two, she would recognize that, Papalymo accepted. Trusting in her judgement as the more experienced close-quarters combatant, now came his turn to restrain himself and observe.

Forwin’s gaze darted between the two oncoming threats coming into view. As if a second wind pushed him onward, he wasted no time and immediately rushed for Drifting Wasp! The poor bastard had just returned to his feet, only to find his leg caught in the crook of the lancer’s weapon, and forcefully swept by it! Having fallen forward before, now he fell back with a shout and nothing to break his descent. Back of the head, meet the cold, hard ground.

Being an archer first and foremost, the former Archers' Guild member also took one lesson to heart when it came to fighting a group: go for the ranged support first.

Aiming for explosive power, Mathye hoped that Powle would be able to cover for him while committing himself to casting Fire. Between the time for it to manifest and range between himself and Tieve’s impromptu guardian, he had every reason to feel secure and confident that his earth-scorching spell would land. Forwin, instead, did the unthinkable, catching the thaumaturge unprepared by tossing his iron javelin straight in his direction. Aimed true, the polearm stabbed into his bicep, prompting him to drop his sceptre!

“MY ARM-!!!” was all he could articulate before crying out in pain and crumpling to the ground, as some Ul'dahns winced and shouted in shock. It was as if a dragon's talon pierced into his limb and gouged out muscle! Watching as his sleeve turned red only brought him to further raise his volume in continued alarm.

“You piece of shit!” Powle made his move next, hoping to blindside the blond with a cheap swipe of his blade! Forwin already sprinted towards the fallen mage, however, proving himself too quick as he thus yanked his lance with a forceful tug out of the open wound. Mathye, incapacitated, shrieked in agony and turned on his side to stifle his frayed nerves, praying for a conjurer beneath wordless cries. Powle began to lose his nerve, unable to even graze his foe thanks to the lancer’s longer reach. One hard thrust, followed by a vorpal thrust, sent the gladiator sliding back towards Ungust, who could only look on with increasing unease as his mercs lay fallen at his feet, one after the next.

The last of the bodyguards, as stubborn as he was large, knew it was now or never.

“Bugger, bugger, BUGGER!” bellowed Drifting Wasp, abandoning all pretence of civility and running for the kill. Had the Roegadyn still kept his wits about him, he could turn around right then and there to take Tieve hostage… but twice now, had he been made a fool out of by some two-bit adventurer. Fuelled by rage and bloodlust hazing his judgment and intoxicating his senses, Wasp would not sleep well tonight until he rends the envoy in two with his own hands! So what if the Immortal Flames would make a wanted man out of him? The adventurer must die!

Snapping around at the shouting and catching the other's wild, bloodshot eyes glaring him down, Forwin tempered his resolve, then ran to meet the larger man halfway, blunt end of his lance pulled back, and…!

‘True Thrust!’

ONE. With all of his might and one hard step forward, Forwin closed the gap between himself and Drifting Wasp with gusto before the ramhorn claws could reach for his throat. The butt of his weapon dug deep into the other’s sternum, forcing all air out of his target’s lungs. Keeping Guildmaster Yhwain’s guidance in mind, he pulled back, then…!

‘Disembowel!’

TWO. He rammed the blunt edge hard into the other’s gut, with a hard twist between the pieces of Wasp’s dated dodoskin jacket for good measure! This adventurer barely stood at half his size, yet he pummelled away at the panicking Roegadyn like a worn and chipped training dummy!

Under one last surge of adrenaline, the strain of this final blow would see it reduced to splinters.

‘FULL THRUST!’

THREE. With a cry, Forwin all but threw himself right into Wasp, who helplessly saw the reverse end of the iron lance grow massive in size at breakneck speed. The ungentle giant's next thought never came, as the blow smashing into his forehead sent him spiralling back and falling on his ass. That he had not lost consciousness over such a relentless assault proved that, if nothing else, Hydaelyn made Roegadyns sturdy… but with how hard his head swayed from side to side, there was no getting back up or coming back from this loss, not after being completely and thoroughly humbled!

‘Aaaaand...scene.’

The three-versus-one brawl ended in the triumphant underdog's favour, and the people of Ul’dah clapped, praised, and shouted rapturously before his martial display! Now that the dust of battle had settled, Forwin straightened his posture, held an arm across his own abdomen, and bowed lowly, the performer’s show now concluded. While all save Ungust and his minions cheered, none rejoiced harder than Yda herself!

“He did it, Papalymo! HE DID IT!” Picking up her shorter compatriot in celebration, she was practically jumping in place, and over and again! If this act of storybook-like heroism would not convince Papalymo, nothing would!

“Y-yes, yes, I saw the same thing as you! Now PLEASE put me down!” he hollered, sharing in the sentiment while not at all appreciating the jostling. Almost as soon as his feet met terra firma, Yda poked around the wide-bottomed pillar to observe the fallout, but she needn’t look at her fellow Scion to know his expression. He simply looked on with swelling pride, akin to a gratified mentor for his understudy’s success.

“I-I ain't gettin' paid enough for this!" With that, Powle abandoned his employer and fled, reconsidering his career while booking it towards the Gate of the Sultana. It took no time for the stumbling Drifting Wasp to run after him, unable to put up with the stares and mockeries of the crowd any longer. Mathye quietly did the same, or as quietly as he could beneath pained whimpers, leaving a furious and affronted Ungust behind at Forwin’s mercy.

“H-Hey! Where the hells do you think you're all going!? GET BACK HERE!”

Her nightmare now over, Tieve shed no small amount of tears out of relief. She would not be taken away to gods only know where. Her children would not starve, left in the dark over what would have become of her, forever waiting for her to return home. This slaver lost, justice was met, and she had this mysterious defender to thank for her returned sense of safety, after being shaken to her core with how close she came to losing it.

“Are you all right now, miss?”

Brought back to reality, she looked up to find not the cruel claw of her assailer threatening to rip her away, but the benevolent hand of her saviour who merely sought to help her stand. This stranger, against the odds, returned to her with the same tenderness and grace he showed her before, long after she grew accustomed to living without, since relocating to Ul’dah with her family. Few within Thanalan’s city-state often showed people like her sympathy, after all, and no one else here rushed to her rescue!

Yet he rose to the occasion when others wouldn’t meet such a daunting challenge. Reaching up and resting her fingers unto his palm, while her other hand held onto the weapon he lent her before, a careful pull from his person saw her return onto her feet.

“Yes, I am!” Tieve assured him, presenting her champion his shortbow. It may not be much, given what little she had left to her name, but the once desperate damsel hoped words would suffice for what gratitude she had to share. “Thank ye, kind adventurer! Thank ye thrice over!”

“Oh, i-it’s no trouble! Really,” Forwin expressed, flashing her a relaxed and compassionate smile while waving a dismissive hand. “I only did what anyone else ought—agh!”

Without warning, an aching throb pulsed from within his own mind, and a rush akin to aether sickness flooded his faculties before he could say anything more. For all the good it could do, the wincing Ishgardian quickly brought a hand up to his forehead to appease what looked like a dizzying, painful headrush to the concerned refugee, but despite experiencing it a handful of times of late… it took all he had not to keel over from the Echo overwhelming him once more.

“There it is again,” concluded the observant Papalymo beneath his breath, watching Tieve fret over her glossy-eyed guardian angel before he shared a knowing look with Yda. They saw this happen time and again to Forwin in Gridania, and they’ve been around Minfilia long enough to catch her experiencing the exact same symptoms when she least expected it.

“Er… sir? Are ye all right?”

“I-I’m fine… Only a little winded, that’s all.”

It took a second for the world to stop spinning for him, giving his head one last shake before his senses sharpened back into focus. He had Mother Miounne to thank for the excuse, given it was the same conclusion the Carline Canopy’s proprietress reached before, after the Echo saw him lose consciousness altogether onstage during the Greenbliss ceremonies.

Now there was one last matter for him to tend to. Forwin could not leave well enough alone just yet, not after having glimpsed the truth for himself through the veil of past events, so he turned back to face the egoist responsible for this whole mess.

“Wh-What now!? You mean to threaten a defenceless citizen!?” Ungust accused, unyielding even in the face of total defeat.

“Apologize. Now.” Speaking with the implicit promise of a threat, Forwin pointed an accusatory finger in the real brigand’s direction, and pressed on with his Echo-witness account. “I saw her buy the dodo meat myself, you opportunistic cad, and I know for a FACT she did not buy it from YOU!”

“What? Th-That's absurd!” Quick to point fingers in return, Ungust had naught but denials to fall back on, refusing to believe he had lost. It was just one man’s word against his own! And yet, as close as they stood to the open Gate of Nald, where refugees encamped en masse on the opposite side of Ul’dah’s fortifications? Of course Forwin would not be the only attester, albeit by proxy in his case. “What proof do you even—”

“Aye, as did I! Leave the poor woman alone, you damnable vulture!”

“Wh-Who said that!?” called out the false merchant, turning around in a last ditch effort to intimidate someone into silence, only to find himself drowned out by several others speaking up in kind. Calls for him to sod off, words of ridicule, even boos and laughter at his expense? If his teeth could turn into powder, they would have, and he could accomplish naught else but to swing an arm down in frustration.

“I will overlook this…” he grumbled, shooting one final, vengeful glare in Forwin’s direction, “but just this once!”

At last, having gambled big and lost everything in the process, the craven exited stage left, and beat a hasty retreat down the same path as his men. One last round of cheers accompanied his escape before the crowd began to disperse, no doubt going to share what they had witnessed for days to come. The lancer, for his part, kept a firm eye on Ungust until he finally disappeared from view, just as some timely Immortal Flames soldiers gave chase. Only then did he allow himself to relax, and turn to face Tieve once more.

“Gods bless ye! If ye hadn't come along when ye did, who knows what that monster might've done!? It don't bear thinkin' about…” she sighed one last time, composure returning to her bit by bit now that the storm had passed.

“Will you be safe, going home? I don’t mind accompanying you, if need be.” Better safe than sorry, he supposed, though he would find his offer readily turned down as she shook her head. After all, she did live right around the bend.

“I appreciate the thought, adventurer, but I don’t think anyone else’ll try their luck tonight. Not after all ye did for me.” Feeling at ease enough to joke around a little, she made to bid him farewell, but not after one last question from her. “Thank ye again, truly—but could I ask ye your name, dear, before I go?”

“Yes, of course! Please, call me…”

He met her final wave off from the other side of the open gate with one of his own. There at the crossroads between Ul’dah’s streets he remained, staying vigilant for Tieve’s sake as she made for the refugee camp, though not without finding herself dragged down by her own two children coming to fetch her before brick cut off his view.

The desert sun had begun to set, and with it, the day’s events caught up with him as Forwin let loose a weary sigh, shoulders sagging as all that built-up tension gave way at last. Between the airship ride, the trek to and inside Copperbell Mines, then returning to Ul’dah before finding himself pulled into a fight he could not allow himself to overlook? All he wanted now was to return to the Quicksand, kick up his feet, and make one of its beds his own to sleep it all off!

All the same, exhausted though he may be, he felt content beyond measure. Accomplished. Proud of what he had done this day, just as a proper knight would be from the stories he read since young! He could not help but ball up his fists and pull them inward, dancing in place and baring to himself a toothy smile!

“Case closed!”

Well, to himself and two others seeing his heart nearly leap up into his throat from surprise. Snapped out of his reverie from the recognizable voice, he found the absolute last person he thought to find in Ul’dah coming up to greet him. True, she may be a long way from surveying the Twelveswood, but that did not make her unexpected company any less welcome. No, he could not be any happier to run into a friend of his in this new city!

…albeit a friend that left him feeling sheepish upon running into her once more. By her own admission, she and Papalymo did run the habit of turning up whenever there was trouble, but she did not just watch him giddily celebrate to himself like a complete dork just now, did she?

“Hello again!” she called and waved to him, looking about as happy to see him as he was her. For now, at least, she did not make a point of mentioning his little dance.

“Y-Yda! Hello!” squeaked the suddenly self-conscious hero, and found she was not alone when his gaze awkwardly trailed down and off the side. They always do travel in a pair, do they? “And Papalymo too? What, uh, w-what brings the two of you all the way out here?”

The resolute Lalafell smiled at that, understanding the young man’s shock in running into them in Ul’dah. “Forwin Tyrell. We are here because there is something we would like to say to you—first, a confession, and then an offer—provided you are willing to hear us out?”

To hear his full name—well, adopted full name—spoken, paired with their unexplained presence this far from the forests up north, left him mute and curious. As if he sought some extra assurance or added counsel before questions brewed in his thoughts, Forwin broke eye contact with Papalymo and looked to Yda for a time.

Not to say she had been on his mind of late, though having freshly fought a pugilist minutes ago, he could not help but think to when they first met and the impression she left on him since, to say nothing of the handful of times they fought alongside one another. Drifting Wasp wishes he could amount to half the fighter she was.

Still, as if sensing his mounting uncertainty, the masked blonde flashed him an encouraging grin, much the same as the one she showed him when the Echo saw him fall over in Lifemind Stump. Warmth bubbled from within his torso when he returned her smile with one of his own; he had no reason not to trust them both by now.

“Yes, of course, I can always make time for you two,” decided the male Hyur, giving Papalymo the floor and his undivided attention. If they had come to Ul’dah just to seek him out, then their reasons must be just as important as their duties in the Black Shroud. “What is this about, then?”

“We have been keeping a close eye on you ever since you left Gridania,” admitted the Lalafell. “You discharged your duty as envoy impeccably, and never once faltered in the face of myriad dangers.”

“But more importantly, you were always ready to help those in need, even if you didn't stand to earn a gil by doing so!” interjected Yda, continued words of praise bringing Forwin to look up to her once more before Papalymo continued.

“You are possessed of all the qualities we seek in an adventurer. Of this, we are convinced.”

“Even if you were kind of dragged into that business with the dodo meat.”

“I-! Ah, well…” Oh great heavens, he could feel his face warm up to his ears from the unanticipated flattery, and now the modest soul couldn’t bear to look at either one of them directly! Any ferocity he showed in defence of Tieve earlier in the day, not a shade of it remained under the weight of earnest compliments heaping on his shoulders. “S-somebody… had to speak up. I only did what anyone else should have, really, i-it’s nothing!”

“It’s not nothing!” urged the better pugilist, going so far as to take a closer step towards Forwin to express her added thanks. Him stepping in for Tieve—a refugee from who knows where, left to fend for herself and her kin in Ul’dah, of all places—meant more to her than he realized, perhaps more than she understood herself deep down, but this much, she knew: “The fact of the matter is that no one else back then did! But you? You didn’t even hesitate!”

“Yes, thank you, Yda,” chided Papalymo, though his gentle tone proved he shared in her joy and merely sought to reel her in, lest they get sidetracked. Back to brass tacks. “Ahem. And then there is the matter of your…gift. I daresay you are curious as to the nature of the vision you bore witness to moments ago? Well, we can help you to understand it.”

Now this, Forwin could not afford to ignore. Five years have passed since his illness vanished, and for five years had he been afforded—more blindsided by, like—said visions into the past, complete with short episodes of aether sickness debilitating him for a time. While no one near as weakening as what Garuda had infected him with for the majority of his life, he could never get used to this sensation creeping up on him out of the blue without a known trigger. If he did not know any better, he would believe his body was just not made to handle the Echo.

That all changed when he met these Sharlayans for the first time, touched that Crystal of Light, and spoke with Hydaelyn Herself. Now here Papalymo stood before him, giving him hope when he had none to confide in back in Gridania, no one who understood for themselves what he has been going through for the last half-decade.

“Truly…?”

“You're not the only one with that power, you know. We have a friend who has it too, and we'd love for you to meet her.”

And if Yda spoke true, and he had no reason to doubt her word by now, then he was not alone in this. There is someone else with this same ability out there!

“And meeting her is only the beginning, for we would also have you lend your strength to our cause. In return, we should be glad to assist your adventuring endeavours in whatever way we are able.” With all of that said and a fond wave farewell, Papalymo took point and made for the Quicksand, with Yda soon following behind. “Should you decide to take us up on our offer─and Forwin, I sincerely hope you will─pray speak with Momodi. The proprietress of the Quicksand is a good friend of ours. She will tell you where to find us.”

After hearing all of that, any prospects of turning in for the night buried themselves deep down at the bottom of his list of priorities. How could he possibly rest now? Too stunned to say anything else, Forwin felt genuine hope the likes of which he never felt. Hope for answers, understanding, and direction. For the Echo, the Mothercrystal, Her guidance, all of it!

Before the inseparable duo took their leave, Yda came to a stop, almost shoulder to shoulder with Forwin in the nearest she stood to him yet, causing something in his chest to flutter. Has she always been this charming, up close?

“Waaait a minute─we haven't even told you the name of our order!” she realized, then turned to look at him one last time with a light chuckle. “We're the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, defenders of justice! Oh, but don't tell anyone—except for Momodi, she knows already. See you soon, Forwin!”

Jogging up to catch up to a waiting Papalymo, the Scions soon vanished, and left the starstruck envoy alone to think on their offer. “S… see you around…” 

With a slow, contemplative walk and a hand stroking his jaw, Forwin made for the Ruby Road stairs, turned, and sat on its steps. He thought to weigh his options here, yet he could not think of a single reason to turn them down. If it meant learning more about the Echo from someone who shared in that power, exploring more of Eorzea and beyond, and seeing her—THEM, yes, them—again…

…he needed to talk to Momodi. Now.