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Of all the places on Hydaelyn the Warrior of Light had to save, why did it have to be Ishgard? The Scions sure had a knack for finding the worst possible places to make their bases.
The adventurer town with almost no amenities.
The frozen peaks of an equally static theocracy.
The abandoned warehouse down the street from her mother’s house
But here she was, huddling for warmth in front of the Forgotten Knight when she could be basking in the warmth of the La Nocean sun. Oh sure, the Scions that approached her had spun some good yarn. But really, she didn’t care about the new Skysteel whatever that Ishgardian lordling was putting together. It had taken a thinly veiled threat of financial ruin from Tataru to pull her tail-first from the warm beaches of Costa del Sol and deposit her in this frigid wasteland. She knew that turning back wasn’t an option, not if she wanted to get more work ever again. But at the same time, she desperately hoped the Haillenartes were no longer in need of her services and she could go back to Vylbrand’s far more agreeable weather.
Just as she was about to call it quits and head inside for a warm drink, the glint of a shining object strapped to the back of one of those impertinent highborns caught her eye. She could not believe what she was seeing: a planisphere. Here. In Ishgard of all places! The last time she had seen one was in Sharlayan, all those years ago before she ruined her own career and lost her scholarship. If the art of Sharlayan Astrology had made its way past the high walls of the Holy See, to the point that a noble could walk around wielding its implements freely, perhaps her time in this hells damned freezer wouldn’t be quite so bad.