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Social Functions in the Untamed Lands: The ‘Bad Rep’ Ball

Garlemald State News

Column Periodical

By Aurelius oen Albius

(Special thanks to: @balmungrpcalendar@balmungroleplayers @for-gold-and-glory @luckysparrowffxiv@@artemishimura  @dmlynx  @dylanthornexivblog@song-and-lace for promoting and working this glorious event. Viva Vitae, you keep Balmung amazing!)

Greetings, dear readers and fellow Imperials! This is Aurelius Albius. While most of you by now are rather familiar with my regular columns speaking of my accounts in lands far from home in the Garlean State Media, in this edition I find myself approaching this mannerisms in a different format this time.

 As a token of their appreciation, the staff at the Garlean State Media has provided me with a Mark VII Photographic Lens Device, with twenty-time zoom and adjustable flash. This will allow me to, when applicable, cover events occurring around the world in real time to be delivered right to your doorstep or local newspaper stand. Join me as I travel around the world and document life outside of our great Nation’s domineering walls.

I introduce you all to myself, as I make way down the legendary Ijin suburb of Shirogane for a special event. Today, we are venturing to a gathering by the name of the ‘Bad Rep Ball’. Yes, dear reader. I understand that the savage tongue treats the word ‘ball’ in a rather casual sense. No, this is not the typical ball of sorts you would find in our Imperial homeland. Imagine the thought process of a savage when the word ‘ball’ is mentioned. When I first arrived here, I pondered of the possibilities myself. Keep that thought in your head as we proceed. I wonder how accurate you will be!

According to the flyer, the event seems to be hosted by ‘Some Crazy Bastards and Their Friends’. It was not too far from the truth. Dear reader, the savage tongue I understand may be a bit vulgar and very blunt in nature, but do appreciate my endorsement of the fact that this event is designed to appeal to the youth. The event ran largely into the evening hours, hence the photography taking place under the stars of night. The venue itself was rather enticing, a stark reminder of how far I am from home. Oh how it reminds me of the Eastern Theatre! Rightfully ours, of course.

Interestingly so, the lyrics for most of the songs played in the outdoor festival were not for children. I shall not hence repeat them in literal fashion in this report, dear readers. However, rest assured that I boldly endured the savage’s tongues tenancies to result to savage language, and began to enjoy myself. Such energy is documented here in real time! Notice the exotic mannerisms of inter-crowd dancing! 

Observe, the savage in motion!

These individuals here are not being compensated for their art, nor are they dancing out of routine or practice. They merely are dancing just to dance. In fact, many in the crowd were dancing along with the beat! Perhaps there may be a quality in common with the youth of Garlemald versus the youth of the Untamed Lands? This is a correlation one may find in a neutral zone like Shirogane.

And here I am myself, submerging myself into the rhythm! Sometimes, it order to have fun in a foreign land, one must adopt their mannerisms to the native peoples. After all, we learn from our… former enemies, no matter how odd or overbearing it may be for us. Our Empire is vast and all-encompassing. There are many different shades of Garlemald. I must admit, dear reader, to be consumed within the crowd while surrounded by pulverizing noise and gyrating bodies reminds me that I am still quite young myself! Perhaps there is something after all to learn from the lesser peoples by attending their methods of merrymaking!

 All in all, I enjoyed my time here at this ‘Bad Rep Ball’. Needless to say, I also did not leave this event with a bad rep! I forgive the savages for their false advertising, as that would be a horrifying scenario, would it not? But ah! I leave you now in the midst of my inn room over here, in an obscene hour of the evening, with sore feet, knees, and vocal chords! I may have let my hair down a little bit in this delightful event, but I did so without regret. I leave invigorated, and inspired by the raw excitement and proactive expression of the arts. If one may wonder in what manner of delight this event could possibly be when I have portrayed it to be so … -rebellious-, then it shall be healthy of you to heed my words before my goodbye.

And those words would be this: It is by writing upon a blank page that we discover, and afterwords, understand.

 A wave of the hand now, and I am gone. Lowering my head, I dream that I am home. Until we meet again, dear readers. Valere est numquam!

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The Sons & Daughters of Garlemald Fencing Team Deep in the heart of Garlemald exists an elite prep school of the richest most influential children of the Empire. Extracurricular are mandatory. While studying there, Aurelius cen Albius and Iulius cen Kathrana competed together on the fencing team.  @ryantiffxiv

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Diary Entry 2

Tucked in the corner of a small apartment in Castrum Aquilonis lies a hidden switch. Inside of the small compartment within contains a black colored, square-shaped, forearm long diary book with blank pages. Far from the public eye of his Columnist articles lies the writing of Aurelius the man. Of Ryanti the man.

It is there that he writes from the heart, without the influence of editors and meddlers. These words must lay hidden for now, with an audience of only the author to read them. However, because of circumstances surrounding the spider infestation of Castrum Aquilonis, this journal finds itself within the hands of Aurelius Albius in a tiny corner of a room where he is resting his head in Castrum Solus, after the IIIrd Legion was forced to seek refuge after the solution to the infestation problem involved freezing over their home entirely. 

–

It was hell.

It has  been hell.

I’m writing this with a pencil the size of my pinkie. The VIth are not kind to my race, like many others in the capital they give me passive aggressive looks, and they often ignore my requests and feedback. I was lucky I managed to get a hold of something to write with, and I am happy that I was able to save my diary before having to evacuate Aquilonis. I am not sure how manic or nonsensical this entry will be. But at the moment, I feel the need to write.

The Spider infestation at Castrum Aquilonis was horrible. It was a systematic occurrence of nightmares, and worst case scenarios playing out due to the errors of many. We underestimated the infestation, and that was far from the worst of it. I remember vividly how cramped Aquilonis was in the foyer, and the little bunks that we assembled as we tried to eek out a manner of existence and attempted to wait out the storm. But it was not to be.

The infestation grew worse, and worse, and worse. Until eventually we reached a level of quarantine that I had never expected. I have been stationed within Aquilonis for six months now. I have seen many passive cases of what it is like roughing it out in the country. We are almost consistently short on supplies. The food here leaves much to be desired. Orders from base command or back in the Capital sometimes take an extraordinary amount of time to process, and if we need backup or support, it is an arduous task to get what the cush soldiers station further inland can receive with a snap of the fingers.

 It’s rough out here, but that’s okay. It’s okay because we have an amazing leader. And we have wonderful officers that care about us. I am cared about here. My input is recognized here. The fellow Legionarius’s and otherwise are magnificent people. We survive because we are family. We survive because we laugh and joust and spar and drink together. We survive because we have to, but also because we want to . We strive for the rising sun when the night grows dark.

 But night almost grew dark forever.

 I cannot describe to you how painful it is to know that a friend you care deeply for is in danger. I could do nothing. I was assigned to Fumigation, and I had to bite my nails and listen in, hoping more than anything in the world that the people on the other side of the line would relay in that they found Zhi Diremite alive, that they found Araceli alive.

 Faces, voices, friends. I care deeply for them, and these people deserve much more than they have been given. I have seen the systematic failure of the Imperial system in minor little acts, tiny inconvenience spread throughout the day, but there have been several acts here recently that I cannot tolerate. My Pilus being attacked by a dragon in his own office? A spider infestation?

 What’s next?

 These spiders, they were not of a normal make either. They had been experimented on. They grew in size and power when treated to heat, and experienced the opposite when they were cold. That is not natural. And I just can’t shake the feeling that we were targeted somehow. That we were subject for experimentation by some other force in the Empire. I wouldn’t be surprised. It is like what Zheng had said before.

 This is the game of Garlemald. The sick game of competition between power and reputation. Of throwing others under the bus for your own self benefit. Of conspiracies and martyrs, of the death of your friends - sometimes by your own hand. These people do not deserve to become victims of a game, even if they play it themselves.

 I must learn. I must learn how to kill this game. But first, I must submit myself to it. Completely and utterly. I understand that now. And I have to tell him.

 I am miserable here. I had to put everything into my resolve in order to pen my latest article. I had it submitted through the VIth frequencies but it took hours for me to convince my case. I wrote of a happy ending - of us resolving the issue quickly and me having a cup of cider next to a window while snuggled in a blanket.

 For the ever-changing future and the possibility of someone going back and reading this much later in time, I will write this down here in my diary: That is not what happened.

 What truly happened?

 We fought for our lives. We were left alone and without support while we tried to clean up a mess that wasn’t ours. I fought for my life against the queen spider - all of us on fumigation did. If we did not shut down the furnace, we probably would have died. But what did that accomplish? It essentially killed our home. We are sitting here as refugees of the VIth, whom are already strained on supplies themselves (do you sense a pattern about people being stationed on the outskirts…?).

 I am sleeping on a tiny blanket with a bath towel as a pillow, in a corner of a cold room.

 My home - my second home - is currently freezing solid.

 Many of my friends here lost a lot of things. Some lost everything. Others lost precious things. We’re all trying to cope with it the best we can. Some of these people are a lot more positive than I am. Their spirits much stronger than mine. I look up to them. Their hope rubs off on me. Perhaps that is why I haven’t lost my mind yet here. But it’s straining.

 Our home is gone. Now we wait for it to be rebuilt. I just hope that it is rebuilt to be better than it was. We’ve existed out there with severe endangerment long enough. But that is one fundamental aspect about the Empire. The Empire can be wonderful, in many ways. Culture, art, inventions, science, music, even their people. But the unspoken suffering of our men and women out here is just one many toxic repercussions of this morally sick game of Garlemald.

 It needs to end. It will eventually.

 I know it will.

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My Adventures in the Untamed Lands: A Solution to an Infestation

Garlemald State News

Column Periodical

Entry 2

By Columnist Aurelius Albius

So perhaps I should start these bundle of words by first mentioning what I dedicate most of my work to in the middle of this current phase of my life. It is vital for every journalist to be candid and passionate about their occupation. I cannot say it is easy to fulfil my role as journalist for the State Media. Like the various other occupations that further and further progress the mighty tower that is our society, my role is full of challenges and tribulations.

 When I first was brought onto the team, I was inquired by the staff as to what I always dreamed of doing. I thought about it that first evening as I laid my head down upon the pillow. Needless to say, I did not get much sleep! But I returned to the office the next morning to provide an answer. Having been born in the countryside, and coming of age in the capital, I had spent enough moons within the cush and comfort of the inner cities to become curious once more for how the countryside was faring during these trying times.

 What I was provided was a dream come true - to become enlisted in the Garlean military - our nation’s mighty sword and hammer, and report from the outermost borders of the Empire. I yearned to station myself within one of the most distant and isolated Garlean outposts in order to write about the people there, and to educate as well as delight my readers about what life Is like so far, far away from the core of civilized society upon this star.

Needless to say, I have written much about my first six months here. I cannot be entirely privy to our exact location, for there still exists corrupt souls with savage minds who dare read my columns and seek to undermine me. I will not let that happen - the people deserve to hear my accounts, and these series of columns shall never be intended for subterfuge. But however, I had no issue writing down my thoughts describing what manner of environment I am staying in, and day to day life within this place.

 However, I am ashamed to admit that I have lost all of my drafts. This is a heartbreaking realization for me, but I shall not falter with the wind if it grants me a nasty smell. For you see, despite the loss of my work, I am yet inspired to keep writing - the stack of papers that accompanied my drafts will rise again, but before they do, allow me to speak of the event that caused the loss of my drafts.

 I am stationed in a Castrum in the middle of mother nature, and am privy to her wrath on a countless cycle almost every day. The location at which we are staying is of the iciest of colds. Do you believe it is cold in the capital? Well! Need I inform you that the sharp bite of the frost in the capital is absolutely nothing compared to the snowy, barren tundra that we find ourselves nested in. What may I say about this life without my drafts?

 Simple, for one. A significant amount of our structure is involved purely in keeping our space heated. Our soldiers are granted warm accommodations to soothe our souls as we rest from our grueling and back-breaking toil in order to keep our precious Empire safe. Yours truly finds nothing more fulfilling than participating in this endeavor along with our fellow soldiers. My lungs may burn with cold, but my smile grows wide at the end of the day, when I may curl up in a warm blanket, and sketch my free time away in the cafeteria with a cup of hot cider.

 But not every day is peaceful. Far from it. In this entry I will aptly describe a recent event, and my accounting of it. Sometimes, our foes that we face are not always the wild savages that roam outside of the border of our Empire, no. Sometimes it is the very elements that prove to be our harshest foe. Forever has Garlemald fought to contain nature - the most compensate of savages to escape our grasp and mastery. I am reminded of nature’s fury as I write to you now.

 Recently, our Castrum experienced a spider infestation. And before you giggle, need I remind you how vicious nature can be near the end of where our Empire stretches? In the Untamed Lands, spiders are not mere tiny nuances. They are enormous, aggressive beasts with sickly venom bites, and legs with the thickness of your middle child’s stature. Nay, do not deny what I describe is true. But be not afraid. Our brave soldiers are here to protect you, and we still yet stand.

 The spider beasts decided that a great home for them would be our furnace. Of course, these animals enjoy the heat and the relief of escape from the cold, but when has the Empire ever accompanied wild animals? It is certainly not within the aim and mission of our taxpayer funds. When our quarantine escalated, I witnessed for myself the efficiency of our well-oiled military machine in action with my own eyes.

 Swiftly, our team organized into two groups. One group was the rescue team, lead by our steadfast madam Optio. They were responsible for rescuing anyone trapped within the spider’s conquered space. The second group was the fumigation team, led by a brilliant madam Tribunus, and your truly was stationed as a part of this team. Our mission? To track down the source of the infestation and eliminate it.

 How ironic. I, with my rifle in hand, found myself crouched and following my comrades into the pits of hell  or in other words the maintenance tunnels! I was under threat in my very own home, so naturally I took my job very seriously. My comrades brought me a sense of relief that they had my back, and my Tribunus’s commands were as wise as they were efficient. I possessed a fire in my belly every time my fellows from the rescue team reported in with yet another saved life.

 One intense crawl through the thinly cut tunnels, and one ladder climb later, and I found myself within the furnace room. Imagine a steel cannon of fire, propelled into the ceiling and whirling about with the significant hum of power in engineering. That was what I bared witness to, but that was the least miraculous sight within the room! That was when I saw her. The Queen Spider. Yes, dear reader. Every nation by right, is guided by a ruler. We possess His Radiance, our Glorious Emperor Varis. This Spider was their Queen. Their Emperor.

 We knew what we had to do.

 The beast sensed our presence quickly afterwords, and her tendrils squirmed and stabbed about as her many eyes glared at us in wild frenzy. Her screech was of a terrifying banshee in the middle of the night. But in my heart I held little fear. My men were with my, and my Tribunus stood fast against the heavy tide with her intention to turn it.

 What I lesson I implore you readers from this is that any beast, any savage beast that stands in your way, can be reduced to the animal that it is and be cut down before the enlightened man. That is precisely what happened here. Members of my team concocted a brilliant idea to freeze the beast solid by shutting the furnace down. A mere switch was all it took! A meager distraction with some very loud discharging of my weapon, and whala! We had ourselves one frightened, frozen spider.

 I wish I could aptly describe what it was like to shatter it to pieces. I suppose if any of you readers were of age when Ala Mhigo was finally conquered, you would understand the utter bliss of achievement that laid besides your boots.

 This was but a routine challenge to these men and women stationed in the countryside. To them, it is another hard day’s work, and another great story to tell to their grandchildren when they grow old. For me? It is just another story - but a very important one. To all of my proud statesmen and women who read my columns, know this. I was meant to tell this story to you today. My drafts are wiped away. They are gone. But despite my losses, I gained much more in return - not merely just this story, but also the assurance that I am safe here.

 I now snuggle under that very same little blanket, having yet another cup of warm apple cider, awaiting for tomorrow.

 I will get back to work on creating new drafts. Until then…

 A wave of the hand now, and I am gone. Lowering my head, I dream that I am safe. Until next time. Viva Imperium.

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Diary Entry 1

Tucked in the corner of a small apartment in Castrum Aquilonis lies a hidden switch. Inside of the small compartment within contains a black colored, square-shaped, forearm long diary book with blank pages. Far from the public eye of his Columnist articles lies the writing of Aurelius the man. Of Ryanti the man.

 It is there that he writes from the heart, without the influence of editors and meddlers. These words must lay hidden for now, with an audience of only the author to read them.

--

It’s strange how my actions come full circle sometimes. But I suppose I am getting ahead of myself. After all, this parchment is fairly new to my words, and you would be surprised on how hard it is to get your hands on a notebook in Aquilonis. That was one of the many tiny little factoids that one could only learn after meandering around here for half a year. It still feels brand new, this place. I’m not sure how long it will take before it starts feeling like an odd kind of second home.

 My mind still reels from the effects of what I went through to be able to become Aurelius. One would think I would have gotten away with the side effects because in essence, he’s similar to… well… me. Except for one small alternative that lead to such a different life. But that one small alternative was a drop in the pond that produces a ripple.. and then a wave… which became large enough to shift entire continents, didn’t it? Perhaps one day, diary, I will tell you what I mean by that. But for now, I will have to keep my secret. Even from you.

Zheng and I have a common subject in our recent conversations about the Game of Garlemald. That was how we mutually described the entire culture of this civilization internally. That it is all one large game, with everyone in it with the sole notion of advancing themselves and eliminating the weak. I hate the metaphor, but I understand why it’s presented in that manner. Games are fake. They are not reality. But it is the reality I find myself in.

 I do not like the Empire for the reasons why the government says I should. I enjoy the Empire very much, but I see it through Eorzean eyes I suppose. From my perspective, though? The glistening towers in the distance. The amazing technology. The refined and elegant arts and crafts. The music. The lovely cultural traditions and culinary delights. I love the Empire for those reasons, and I love their people. But it is difficult to love a fleeting shadow, isn’t it?

 It’s all hidden behind that veil, and that veil has only grown thicker.

 There is irony in that article I wrote. I am still getting used to taking those deep breaths and penning an article I know the state media would adore. I understand the game more and more every day. For now, I must choose to play that game. So I write with the dramatic flair and perspective that the system will accept.

 Sometimes I take a moment to pause and realize how crazy my life has become… and where it’s lead. It’s unbelievable that I sit here now recollecting my most recent assignment. I was sent to Ul’dah of all places to help complete my journalist prerogative of exploring the lands outside of the Empire. Imagine how I felt walking into my home state of Ul’dah disguised as a Garlean reporter.. who was disguising himself as a Near Eastern reporter. Of having to walk among intimately familiar landmarks as if I had never experienced them before…

 But I shant ramble too much about my first entry, diary. So I shall make it blunt. My name is Aurelius Albius. I am a Garlean. Or at least I could have been. In truth, I am a man for future Garlemald. A Garlemald that I would one day love to see. A Garlemald that I already see. For truthfully, the men I met in Ul’dah that odd yet adventurous day were two really good men. Gentle, kind, caring, and considerate.

 I see the same kind of people over here. I see it in their eyes, in fleeting moments, in precious dialogue behind the eyes and ears of whom watches over us. I see the smiles, hear the laughter, sense the struggles, and feel the energy. I feel so.. blessed in a way, because I get to see it. It makes the challenges worth it, to be able to experience it all. It is far beyond where I ever expected my life to go.

 I just wish I could write to these people from the heart. But for now, I write as a game. That will not last forever. So when the time comes, the words will be in this book, ready to be seen by anyone willing to read.

 For now, I sleep, and I wake up to a boring breakfast with black unsweetened tea, and my next assignment. A wave of the hand now, and I am gone. Lowering my head, I dream we are at peace. Until next time.

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My Adventure in the Untamed Lands: The Universal Query

Garlemald State News

Column Periodical

Entry 1

By Columnist Aurelius Albius

Some would say that this star is shrinking daily. I do not blame the starry-eyed and ambitious fellows who claim such a fact. Ever forward does this world march in evolution. Every day we strive closer to the ideal destination our world lays out before us, spearheaded by our Emperor. Small world, one would say.

I dare to disagree. I suppose things are different where I come from. The vast and sweeping landscape of the Garlean countryside constantly reminded me of the size and scale of our world when I was a little boy. I have never forgotten the sheer sense of wonder as I traveled further inward once I became of age. This world of ours is vast and diverse, and there does indeed exist such a thing as adventure that lies outside familiar horizons if you look hard enough. Or perhaps, if you venture far enough.

What would possess a man to dare venture beyond the world we know? To venture out to the very frontier of our Empire, and even further beyond to worlds we’ve never known until now?

Perhaps a man like myself: born and raised a common Bas with stars in his eyes for curiosity and adventure. Since birth I have yearned towards the calling to explore, recall, write for our people. I found intimacy with the pen, and the desire to express to my countryman all of what I have seen. I pursued this gift wholeheartedly, and thanks to the privilege and opportunity of my Empire’s guiding hand, I finally have been able to realize this gift. My words will merely express an authentic truth of perspective, from one commoner to another. It brings me joy to be able to write to you all about my adventures, and I look forward to the relationship we will establish between this mere columnist and the greater population of our wondrous Empire.

But enough about me for now. I present to you now my thoughts, feelings, and findings of my most recent excursion into the mysterious and captivating Untamed Lands. What are the Untamed Lands, you ask? Why, an interesting question for a curious mind. There is nothing wrong with curious thoughts.

Allow me to enlighten you thus: The Untamed Lands are the wildlands that lie beyond the Empire’s borders. It is the world free from the security, enlightenment, and refinement of our society. These are the vast lands in which the brave conscripted men and women of our Empire march ever onwards towards the Great Crusade that we have embarked as part of our burden to the greater star. I have left our Empire’s borders. I have seen these lands for myself. They are untamed indeed.

Today I bring you an account from my expedition into the Eorzean landmass. I am quite sure that you have read about the Untamed Lands of Aldenard before, as news of their actions have been quite intimate to the Empire in recent months. An average columnist would question the safety, perhaps even the sanity of the endeavor, but not I. My calling to explore and inform my people was too great to pay heed to danger. I made haste to the city with the yearning to describe the people I met there, and their daily lives.

I speak today of a place in the southern part of the wildlands, a place deemed by name of its savage peoples to be Southern Thanalan. The nation’s old-worldly city-state lies within the beating heart of this land, and the citizens of this outpost call it Ul’dah. Approaching the gates, I found myself pacing up the intricate eighty stone steps leading to the great wall. They call these steps the Eighty Sins of Sasamo. Perhaps in these lands they strive to idealize criminals and sinners?

Ul’dah’s walls are made of stone, not steel. Rather antiquated, no? But charming nonetheless, despite the height of these walls paling remarkably in comparison to our mere Castrums. The guardsmen were lax, and did not even question where I came from or what my motivations were for entering. What the wildlands lack in safety and security, however, they make up for hospitality. When I entered the city proper, oh how would I ever describe it to those who haven’t seen…

There are many colors. Reds, blues, whites, greens. The city is circular, the walls layered and the streets curved around its great center. There are exotic lamps that illuminate the city at night with an odd amber atmosphere. Its people are dressed in great variety of fashion that make use of old world fabrics and pastels. Why, I cannot emphasize enough the variety. Each individual seemed to have a thought in their own head of what was contemporary fashion.

Yet curiously enough, almost everyone I encountered were armed in some fashion. Every single Eorzean was armed to the teeth! I questioned this initially, but a conclusion was easily reached. For the wildlands are indeed wild. You see, these people lack the security, enlightenment, and refinement of our society. So they must arm themselves to protect themselves from danger, even within the city walls. What a challenging life, I thought. I had no clue how much that was true once I entered deeper into the city.

I found myself seated at a table in a place called the Quicksand tavern. I heard it had a bit of a reputation, but I cannot verify my source. However, I have since experienced this atmosphere for myself. How did I end up there? Well, myself and my bodyguard encountered a bumbling Miqo’te savage strolling up the city block. He was all too eager to be friendly with me and my inquiries. Perhaps our refined Imperial mannerisms left him starstruck?

The wildman spoke eagerly about his present day. He had recently traveled from the Far East, and spoke of an Xaela tribe in the Azim Steppes by the name of the Dalamiq. Obviously this savage incorrectly assumed that other savages would be inclined to keep a formal agreement of ceasing hostilities in order for trade to resume and bandit attacks to stop. Obviously they broke this agreement. Without the security and formality of Imperial standards, civilized negotiation breaks down very easily. In Eorzea, they try to deal with this issue by utilizing a force called Hunting Guilds. This savage was stumbling around trying to find them when I met him.

All too eager to help me, he led me to this… Quicksand.

While seating at the table, I met another one of these wildmen. His name is not worth mentioning, neither is the name of the Miqo’te from earlier. I tend to prefer to allow the readers to imagine what their names could have been in the label of my poetic incantations. I will intend to allow my readers to draw their own conclusion about these peoples, and even a name will invite bias into my report. I would never wish that upon my writing. You may trust my accounts. I am one of you.

This man I met had an appearance that astounded me. I have never seen anything like it in my life. He was tall and stout, and yet his face bore vague resemblance of a lion. To know that such individuals exist out there in the wildlands was an enlightening experience, myself. He described himself as a man of faith. It is common for these savages to fall victim to fall idols and the cradle of make-believe religion. This man had little else but that, and his weaponry he carried, to protect him.

He proceeded to speak about Ishgard’s little war between their misguided nation and the abominable beasts known as dragons. Ishgard is located in the northwest of Aldenard, and has always struggled to survive against the forces of nature, which is common with every city state here in Eorzea. He claimed that he was a void sent hunter, a hunter of magical abominations. Why not fight an abomination with an abomination, I thought. This is the kind of logic one must think as an Imperial so far from home in the midst of all this danger.

I must insist that these discoveries all come from the mouth of a savage. Much of his description about himself related back to his false god, and he possessed the hubris necessary to proclaim himself the sword of one of their god’s daughters or somesuch. I must say, he was easy to gain trust, and even bought me a drink. The wine was sweet, and rather tangy. It seems that the wildlands have at least mastered the old world, as I felt more than anything during my adventure here that I have been trapped in a time portal… perhaps a bizarro world?

As I found myself alone inside of my inn room, writing this piece even as I lay my head down in untamed lands, there are still so many questions on my mind. It is likely that I will never see these people again. Whatever will happen to our bumbling Miqo’te friend? What is next for the lion-man and his false crusade? Where will their adventures take them? There are so many untold stories about these savage lands and their people. It occurred to me that life is very different outside my homeland.

But yet, there are similarities. Despite the immediate danger outside of their homes, the plague of false religion, and the terrorizing prospect of guide-less nations leading their guide-less people, these people yearn for a better life. They yearn to be saved. I am grateful every day that I am Garlean. I realized this more than ever on this expedition. Ever greater is our Imperial mandate - our burden - to save and enlighten these people. With the guidance of His Radiance, I can only hope that these people can be enlightened within their lifetimes. Until then, there will be those like myself, who dare to venture into the land far beyond our borders to account the lives of these people.

A wave of the hand now, and I am gone. Lowering my head, I dream that I am home. Until we meet again. Viva Imperium, my readers.