holiday-in-eorzea

[holiday-in-eorzea]

Before A Fall

"Help! Bandits!” A man, Hyuran, had near stumbled into the outpost, clutching his chest hungry for air. I rose from my seat as a pair of Brass Blades attended him. He took a moment to calm his ragged breathing before speaking. “They...they tore me from my saddle and took everything I own! Three of them! Roegadyn, with axes larger than me! Bring my goods back to me, I beg of you! It’s... everything I have.”

The mercenaries at the man’s side glanced at each other; a look I couldn’t distinguish as nervousness, annoyance, or amusement. One spoke, addressing the distressed merchant. “Sir, calm yourself. We will arrange to have any wounds seen to, and for you to be accommodated within this settlement for a time, but regrettably, our orders prohibit us from leaving the area while on duty.”

His fellow nodded. “Ayup. Direct from the General hisself. But at leas’ get a drink into yer. We’ll see what we can do.” They ushered the man inside the gates, nearly shoving him as he stumbled again, clearly thinking their job done.

“B... but, my wares?” he stuttered in shock, but the mercenaries had already turned away. I approached as he stood dumbfounded by the uncaring response.

"These bandits you mentioned; what did they look like? I'm seeking some in particular, and their previous actions sound similar." I said, trying to convey an expression of good will, but also determination. The man blinked, shocked from his thoughts.

"Three of them! Three there was! Roegadyn, all armed!" he replied, tugging at my tunic with an increasing sense of desperation.

"Did one wear a cloth on his head? Yellow?"

"Aye! He tried to kill me and attacked my auroch! He sent one of his men to chase me, but I outran them."

"Or they gave up, to enjoy their ill-gotten spoils."

The man's expression dropped, and I realised I had made an error by taking one of his last hopes.

"But," I said, trying to bring the situation back under control. "These sound like the men I was looking for. Even if they weren't though, I would still do my best to help you." The man brightened, like a flower given water after a dry spell.

"You mean it? A thousand thanks, my lady!" He grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously.

"You're welcome, but I will actually need my hand to help you..."

The man, realising he hadn't stopped shaking, went flush in the face and sheepishly pulled his hand away. "Ah, my apologies."

I gave the merchant a nod, and an amused smile, and set off. I had seen many places in my travels, but my experiences on Sym-Po were what I was relying on at the moment. As it turns out, suddenly finding yourself unable to experience sound helps you focus your other senses. Tuning out other senses to focus my vision, I found the merchant's tracks amidst the wagon trails; a panicked, sprinting pace indicative of fear. Carefully following the path, lying ahead I could see the remains of a broken crate, and a derailed, wheeled cart. No signs of a beast of burden remained, other than a large galloping imprint before halting abruptly in a puddle of dark blood; no body in sight.

From here, I followed the trail of the wagon back along the road. Ahead, another crate; stamped with the same emblem as the broken one from earlier, though this one looked to my eyes that it had been discarded rather than being destroyed by outside influence. I was getting close, so widened my senses out again.

From nearby, a crumbling stone wall partially concealed by bushes, I could hear the murmurs of conversation. Aware of the noise my armour could make with reckless movement, I slowly approached, hoping to get eyes on the people talking.

“…prob’ly get a few gil at leas’ for it?” The voice was rough and masculine, sounding like a match to one of the marauders I had chased off. Then suddenly, the sound of wood splintering.

“If it hadn’t been for that bleedin’ Aldis and that meddlesome bitch, we’d be settled in all at that pisshall of an inn! Not scavengin’ fer scraps from weaklin’ nobodies!”

That voice I recognised: Pfarmul, the self-proclaimed leader of the marauders that had been harassing the people in Ul’dah proper.

“Won’t be fer long though. Jus’ til Rostenbyrt gets out o’…” A third voice started before Pfarmul cut him off too.

“‘E couldn’t keep ‘is wanderin’ hands to hisself; gets what he deserves. Alls I said is to kick a few masts, scare ‘em a bit!” He sounded bitter, but no so much that he regretted his choices.

I took a deep breath in preparation, and emerged from my hiding spot. “Well, there were definitely better ways to go about spending some time in a new place. Have you considered courtesy?” I focused on the heat, and weight of my armour, so I could avoid focusing on how much larger they were, and the relative size of the axes they wielded.

“You! What’re you doin’ ‘ere?!” Pfarmul yelled, startled.

“We’ve heard reports about a group of thieves assaulting merchants on their way to Ul’dah, and one such person identified the assailants as three Roegadyn, the leader of whom wore a yellow cloth on his head.”

“And what about it?!” He squared up, trying to make his figure more imposing.

“I’ve seen too many people be hurt in my life to let it keep happening. You might think it’s harmless now, and some might even agree with you. But I know it doesn’t stop there; the small things become larger concerns. So it stops here. Either with you choosing a better path, or with me stopping it.” I assumed a loose stance, where I could easily draw blade and shield in moments if needed. “I don’t want to hurt you, but know that I have been granted the authority to kill if it becomes necessary.”

The three Roegadyn paused for a second before laughing. “Ye hear that lads?! She thinks she can stop us!” Pfarmul laughed before halting and spitting in my face. “Nothin’ but a poxy strumpet wit’ a head bigger’n her tits! Walk away, ‘venturer, or I’ll show you a good time afore cleavin’ tha’ pretty lit’l head in ‘alf.”

Normally, I would have ignored the insult, and simply started the fight, but I think Yri has been a bad influence on me; before I knew I had said anything, I was already responding.

“You seriously kiss your sister with that mouth?”

Well, at least the other Gladiators would appreciate that I had successfully drawn their attention.

“YOU SHUT YER WHORE MOUTH!” Pfarmul roared, before drawing his massive axe and leaping in attack.

I knew it was a risky move, and worse, one I hadn’t had the chance to practice in my own body, but the necessity of widening the gap between us was immediately pressing. I jumped forward, into the wall, and pushed off it and away from the killing blow. Kolya had shown some impressive athleticism when he had demonstrated the move, landing smoothly with a flip, but I wasn’t nearly as strong or acrobatic. As it was, I only just managed to avoid toppling backwards from the short distance. But it was enough, as the marauder’s axe swung through the now-empty space.

The other two also drew their axes, and joined their boss, though with less ferocity. Being outnumbered was not ideal, but I’d dealt with worse, and with more skilful opponents. Compared to the combined mind of the Coterie, their movements were clumsy; clearly used to victory through raw power rather than technique. But I had to be wary; the only time in my life I’d needed to fight as myself before coming to Eorzea was while I was still alive, defending my home and child.

The trio barely let me catch a breath, as I ducked and dodged for all I was worth, occasionally daring to swing my sword as I went, scoring little more than glancing blows and minor scrapes. I was merely concentrating on survival over victory at this point. From the corner of my eye, I almost missed the glint of a battle axe heading towards my head. Instinctively, I threw my shield arm in a deflecting motion as I spun out to the side. Pain shot through the entire left side of my body as the axe impacted, shattering the resin-coated wood of the shield, and nearly breaking my forearm in the process. Though reeling from the strength of the blow, and the shooting pain, I followed through with the momentum, slashing out across the marauder’s legs, cutting at the knees. He cried out and fell to the ground.

One down for the moment, I could focus more on the other two, Pfarmul still leading the charge. Without the buckler’s protection, I switched to a two-handed grip, hoping the extra strength could withstand the force of their attacks. The other marauder I hadn’t picked up the name of swung wildly, still narrowly missing despite. Pfarmul lunged in from the side, so I did my best to roll out of the way. Fortunately, or not depending on your point of view, the sandy ground meant my footing wasn’t firm, so it was less of a roll and more of a trip. In that motion though, my blade found purchase in the unnamed marauder’s chest; unpleasantly stuck between ribs as he gasped in shock, coughing up blood before falling to his knees, and gradually face-down in the dust.

“YOU’LL PAY FER THIS!” Pfarmul screamed, eyes filled with pure rage. Breathing heavily from the exertion, I just gestured for him to dare to get closer. A primal scream as he rushed forward, and I saw my opening. Shifting my weight with more desperation than I had needed during my sparring match with Mylla, I pushed hard onto my right ankle, carving with the sword as I went, before springing hard to the left; slashing across Pfarmul’s stomach. The extra push was just enough to get me past the arc of his axe, though I could feel the breeze of its passage against my skin. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped. Then, a thump from behind me, as the one-time leader of a band of prideful Roegadyn warriors slumped over beneath the blazing sun of the Ul’dah outlands.

Still, he drew breath. Pfarmul was indeed a powerful combatant, but I was surprised to see he hadn’t given up the fight, despite his wounds. I held my sword to his throat, demanding submission. “If you yield, I can see about getting you and your men a softer sentence.”

He winced at the light, and spat a mouthful of blood on the ground, his breathing becoming more ragged. “What bleedin’ men?” His eyes weren’t on me, but behind. Without moving the blade tip, I turned my attention briefly away. Sure enough, the others were not moving. I hadn’t expected the one I had pierced through the heart to shake it off, but the one I thought I had merely incapacitated appeared to have suffered far more blood loss than such a move would have warranted. I must have gotten lucky, and cut a major section of bloodflow with the wild swipe.

I turned back to Pfarmul, and shook my head. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t intend on hurting you all this much. I intended to see you pay for your crimes, but by law, not by bloodshed.”

“Same diff’rence with t’ Blades.” Pfarmul’s voice was fading, he didn’t have long. “But, I’m no coward; I’ll go out in battle. Nothin’ better.”

Before I could stop him, he thrust forward, skewering himself on my sword, wincing in the pain of it, before finally breathing his last. I stood for a moment, shocked and taking it all in before my legs gave out. The adrenaline of the fight had kept me upright far longer than I would’ve been able otherwise, and I lay on my back, breathing heavily, and trying to ignore the pain. Whether it was that first move to leap off the wall, or that final opening, somewhere along the way, I had twisted my ankle, and the pain was returning tenfold.

Through all of this, I could hear a faint buzzing noise, almost beyond my hearing, from the left side of my head. Barely able to move, I conjured my Mirror. The feather hair clip I had received along with the mysterious letter was glowing slightly. Painfully, I reached up to it, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. Then I removed it.

Big mistake. Instantly, all the pain and exhaustion increased exponentially, as I felt a sharp drop in my physical capability. I might have bitten my tongue to do it, but I just barely managed to contain a scream. I reattached the clip, even if it was closer to my hand collapsing from the strain, and the pain subsided once more; not gone, but back the the previous level. If the letter was correct, this clip was indeed attuned to my spark, and was bolstering my strength. While I hadn’t been a weakling on Melenas, owing to the need to maintain a farm and home, I was certainly far from being as in shape as most other people that would take up a physical tool over the arcane arts. The uniqueness of my existence rarely allowed for training my body, as I was usually borrowing that of another.

Eventually, I managed to scramble to my feet, as the ground around me lay stained with blood. I limped over to Pfarmul’s body, and reached for his axe. Though I was conscious of the need of proof that I had handled the group, I was in the moment far more concerned with its function as a walking support. I looked up to the sky, shielding my eyes from the sun. “Caidi,” I said out loud, hoping in vain I could be heard across the Blind Eternities. “When you see Yri next, tell her thanks, but also that she’s in so much trouble when I get back to you all.”

Although I had been informed that it was in no way how belief worked across the planes, Erebos’s threats still concerned me deep down, so I took a moment to offer the souls of these men to him, and that they would find their way to his side, honouring the bargain I had struck on my first full planeswalk to Theros. I gathered the little I could of the stolen goods, and painfully began making my way back to Scorpion Crossing. I had barely crossed the threshold before the merchant I had spoken to was upon me, eager now, rather than scared.

“So? Did you do it? Take care of them lot, and find my stock?!”

Too tired to respond, I struggled with the rough sack I had obtained to carry what I could find, and showed the man.

“Twelve bless you, adventurer! If it weren't for good women like you, I'd never leave home. It might not be much, but at least I can make something out this ill-fated journey. Maybe even something from telling the tale of your exploits, perhaps?” Through my exhaustion, his voice ran through my skull as if he were screaming at me. I simply waved as if it weren’t an issue, and moved past. The man was already examining the remains of the goods and doing mental arithmetic, so I passed by unnoticed.

Approaching the watchmen however, I drew more of an eye. “Gods! Are you wounded? Do you need assistance?!”

“If someone’s able to help me back to Ul’dah, I’d appreciate it.” I managed to say.

“I’ll secure you a porter, wait there.” He ran off toward the stabling grounds. Before long, he had returned, accompanied by a woman guiding one of the chocobos and a wagon held aloft by a large balloon.

“Right you are miss, easy now.” The watchman said, easing himself under my arm and supporting my weight as he helped me into the carriage. “Clear!” He called to the woman, who had taken up the reins, and the bird kicked into a run, the motion pulling the wagon but far smoother than expected.

In a fraction of the time it had taken for me to travel on foot, the wagon arrived at the city gates. The woman exchanged words with the guards, before the gates were opened wider than they had been for my exit, and the wagon passed into the shaded area beyond. Carefully, the woman helped me from the rear before signalling her leave, and returning towards the outpost.

The streets were still busy, despite the heat, but people were clearly giving me a wider berth. I assume the combination of battle-worn looks and the giant axe had something to do with it. Regardless, I pushed on, only occasionally needing to stop for a quick rest, and returned to the guildhall.

As I entered, there was an audible hush that passed through the hall. There was still noise, but people had definitely noticed my arrival and condition. Mylla, the guildmaster, came over first. She eyed up the axe I was using as a crutch and the amount of dust and debris covering my armour and skin.

“Good, it is finished. I assume what was necessary was taken care of. You don’t need to say anything; it’s written all over your face. Besides, the less that people hear, the safer. But with that, this stage of your training is complete. This time, your enemies were ill-behaved ruffians, but who knows what manner of opponents you will face in the future? Regardless, I have faith that you will do well. Master your sword and you shall master yourself. Now then, there will be work for you in the days to come. Take time to rest and recover, then return to your training, Liya. Once you’re ready, know that there’s a place for you here.”

“Thank you, guildmaster.” I tried to salute, but my energy was all but gone.

“Hmm. In fact, I will have a word with Momodi about seeing to better lodgings for you at the Quicksand. We have space here, of course, but I feel you would be better served by something a little… softer.” She whistled and waved her hand, and a large Roegadyn man approached. Mylla took a piece of paper and a quill, quickly wrote a letter, and handed it to the man. “Take this to Momodi at the Quicksand, and assist Liya in getting there and to a room, if you could.” The man nodded, and practically scooped me off my feet. I flinched at the ease of it. No wonder it had been a hard fight, if the three were as strong as this!

The Quicksand was as cool as ever; the sandstone easily shielding from the heat, while allowing a small breeze to pass through. The gladiator helped me to a chair, then approached the counter that Momodi still hadn’t vacated. The two exchanged words before she read the letter. From beneath the bar, she pulled out a key, and handed it over before calling over to her colleague further down. “Number 19’s taken, right?” The other Lalafell nodded, and took note in a book in front of her; a visitor ledger at a guess.

“This is for you. She said it’s good for a while. Didn’t say how long.” The Roegadyn said in a deep voice, holding out the key. Engraved on it was a fine script that translated to 19.

“Thank you for this. I could’ve handled it myself.” I replied.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Guildmaster said to, so I did. ‘Sides, we’re all brothers and sisters in arms, right? Today, you; tomorrow, maybe me.” With that, he helped me up, past the threshold that was reserved for private guests, and up the stairs to the rooms. He unlocked the door, and all but placed me in bed.

“When you come back, I’d like to hear about how it went. Stories of great fights are popular back home.” He shone a grin that implied he had plenty to share as well.

“I will have to take you up on that offer. But I’ve been so rude; my name is Liya al-Amundi, what’s yours?”

“Grehbroda Laentsyn, and I look forward to it.” He closed the door behind him, leaving me in peace. The street noise could still be hard, but much fainter, making it a comfortable backdrop. It reminded me of Ravnica again, though quieter. As soon as I had that thought, I fell asleep, allowing the familiar buzz of commerce and the comfort of a soft bed to swallow me through the haze of exertion.

[holiday-in-eorzea]

Blade Of Night

Upon entering the Quicksand, the source of trouble was hard to miss. Another of the Lominsan marauders, though this one wore a covering on his head, and appeared to be more solidly built than his comrades. I assumed they signified him to be the leader of the troupe. Typical; leave the subordinates to do what they will outside in the heat, all while relaxing and drinking in shade and comfort. Although, it seemed something had riled him up, as he towered over the Lalafell waitress, shards of glass and remains of ale staining one of the nearby walls.

"Me poxy arse this is yer best brew! I’d sooner drink a pint o' me own piss than this swill!” the charming individual bellowed at the girl.

“I- I’m sorry! Just l-let me...”

The marauder raised his hand, as if to strike her. I called out. “Hey! What are you doing?!”

He paused, and turned to face me. “Just who the 'ells do ye think yer speakin' to, maggot!? I'm Pfarmurl the Driven, an' me an' me Bloody Marauders've been reavin' so long, mothers scare their children with tales about us!”

“It doesn’t matter who you are! I won’t allow harm to an innocent person, especially not over something so idiotic!”

The marauder scoffed, and stretched in an attempt to intimidate me. “Don't believe me words? Then I'll let me axe do the talkin'!” Sure enough, he began to reach for the wicked axe strapped to his back. In response, I moved towards my blade’s scabbard and prepared to draw.

Suddenly, a voice called out from a table behind us. “Oho, this is lively, even for the Quicksand. You two going to put on a show for us?” Both the marauder and I turned to see a rough looking man finishing a drink, dressed in a billowing red shirt, and loose pants; a long blade strapped to his hip.

“What's this? Another godsdamned fool? Show some respect when ye talk to...” the marauder started to say before the man in red cut him off.

“Pfarmurl the Driven, leader of a troupe of bloody mummers or some such. Aye, I heard you the first time - your voice carries quite well.” The man waved away his own interruption with a relaxed, casual air.

Pfarmurl, the marauder, took clear umbrage to the attitude. “Then unless ye want me to split yer skull with me axe, ye better-” He paused mid-sentence, taking a more measured look at the man’s sword. It was certainly imposing; wicked black spikes were worked into the shaping of the false edge, with runic lettering down the flat. My knowledge of languages failed to provide a translation.

“Th-That sword!” Pfarmurl stammered. “It couldn't be... Frenzy!? But only the Sword of Nald would - Bloody hells, it's you!”

The man in red smiled, but it was a predator’s grin; there was no joy in those eyes. “You know, I've never been one to stand back and watch. Mind if I join the fun?”

Pfarmurl held his hands out in defense, scared stiff. “B-B-Beggin' yer pardon, sir!” was as much as he got out before turning tail and running as fast as he could muster.

The man in red just sighed, and scratched at the back of his head. “Why do they always do that...? Looks like it's just you and me.” I once again reached for my sword, as he laughed, face softening. “No no, I didn’t mean to suggest we fight. I merely wanted to compliment you. Standing up to that Lominsan was quite brave of you—and quite foolish.”

“I was simply doing my duty; one that I would hope anyone would do likewise, but I know many don’t.” I replied, relaxing my posture; noticing how much I had been tensing only as the muscles released.

“I think I like you, gladiator. Name's Aldis, and I'd buy you a drink, but I'm afraid I just spent the last of my coin.” The man gestured to his now empty mug.

“That’s alright. I’m not much of one for drink, but thank you for the offer regardless. I’m Liya.”

“Liya, huh? I used to be a young gladiator like you. Back then, I...” Aldis trailed off, as if lost in a memory, but quickly returned to the present. “Ah, but that hardly concerns you. These days I'm just an explorer of the unexplored, a seeker of as-yet-unknown experiences...” Aldis sighed wistfully and looked towards the ceiling. “...Like that beautiful stranger keeping my bed warm right now. Gods, I've missed this city; this wonderful desert jewel of debauchery and sin. Now, if you'll excuse me.” Thankfully, he either didn’t notice, or at least didn’t call attention to the reddening of my cheeks as he made his way towards the interior stairs.

I took a brief moment to compose myself, and made my way over to Mistress Momodi, the proprietor. “Is everything alright now, M- Momodi?” I had to catch myself of speaking out of habit before inadvertently insulting her again. Using one’s title was customary at home, but she had already indicated her preference.

“It’s fine now that seadog’s been run off. I swear, if I hadn't seen Aldis with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it was him. Everyone here thought he died years ago.” She let out a dejected breath. “Listen, Liya. Do me a favor and don't tell Mylla about meetin' Aldis, alright? She doesn't need this sort of drama.”

“Why? Is there something I should know about? He’s not a threat, is he?”

Momodi shook her head. “Well...let's just say some folk ain't good for one another. If you catch my meanin’”

“Ah, like that. Well, in that case, I don’t think I need to include that detail when I return to Mylla about the job.”

“My thanks about that. I suspected the guild would be quick to dispatch someone, and I had even money on it bein’ you. Those mercenaries occasionally keep the peace in these parts, but their patrols seem to come round as they feel. I’ve sent a runner ahead to Mylla about your performance here and from what I could gather from outside. It’s good to have someone that cares handy.” She smiled and gave a cheeky wink. “Now, you must be thirsty, havin’ to lug that armor around in this heat; how about a drink?”

I was instantly reminded of the cracking of my lips, and the rasp of my throat. It had been far too long since I wore my own skin, and I considered myself lucky to be relieved of the need of arms and armour in my life. Even if it meant needing to become acquainted with them after the fact. “A cup of water would certainly be appreciated, I admit.”

“No freebies this time!” Momodi called over her shoulder, already pouring the cool, clear liquid from a jug. She said it with the tone of a teasing joke, so I chose to take it as such. She passed the cup across the counter, and I returned the favour with a small pinch of coins from my pouch, still unsure about the currency and its value. Momodi took one and pushed the others back. On inspection, I noted she had effectively charged 3 of their “gil” for the water, though I wasn’t sure if that was a reduced price, inflated, or simply the standard rate. As I had no reason to argue, I accepted the fare and returned the remaining coins to their place.

Though the respite from the heat was welcome, I still had my duty to accomplish, so begrudgingly I exited the cool interior of the Quicksand, to traverse the streets of Ul’dah back to the Gladiator’s Guild. I passed the returning messenger on the way, exchanging a brief look of acknowledgment as they went on their way.

Mylla was in her customary position, overseeing the guild members training with their wooden blades. I gave a salute, but she was quicker than I in starting the conversation.

“I've already heard of your exploits at the Quicksand, Liya. You did well to send those marauders packing. I wish I could say we've heard the last of them. Alas, we've received reports of axe-wielding raiders assaulting merchants traveling through Scorpion Crossing.” She shook her head lightly in disgust.

“They move quickly then. Did they already have this planned as a distraction?”

A frown crossed the guildmaster’s face. “It seems words will not suffice. after all. I want you to finish what you've begun, Liya. Head to westem Thanalan and see that Pfarmurl fellow and all those who have shared in his crimes never trouble the people of Ul'dah again.”

“To what end, guildmaster?”

“I trust your judgment, and your ability. Should it come to it, I have arranged for your prior allowances with the Brass Blades to extend further, under my authority. No crime would be decreed if it were a necessary step.” Our eyes met, as if the full meaning of her statement was conveyed through vision alone.

“I will do my best, and hopefully it does not come to that.”

Mylla nodded, a grim demeanour colouring the expression. “Good. Then, be off. The trade outpost of Scorpion Crossing is the nearest settlement in the area. I advise asking there for more precise information.”

I gave a crisp salute, the habit still forcing itself from my training, and exited the guildhall. The western gate, identified as the Gate of the Sultana was not far from the guild, as I passed through the streets into the afternoon sun. The weather was cooling, but still warmer than I would typically prefer. The more temperate climate of Ravnica had caused more of an adjustment than I thought. I exhaled as of to chase the heat away, and set off.

Everywhere I looked as I walked reminded me of home, of Melenas. Though the climate here was harsher, the wildlife and greenery had adapted well. Farming had always been somewhat of a struggle; trying to find suitable groundwater sources to feed our crops and what livestock could manage. I could imagine the soil here would handle thoumfruit and jazar in greater abundance. I shook my head; Kolya was insistent on my learning the proper names of things, least of all for his understanding; garlic and carrot. The words still felt foreign in my mind, but to his credit, the names he used seemed to be more common across a number of planes compared to my own. Of course, getting the seeds here was an entirely separate issue; while inorganic materials traveled the Blind Eternities without issue, the same could not be said of more natural things. I had tried to retrieve some herbs for baking, only to find handfuls of dust on my arrival.

By the time I had made it to the outpost, the sun was all but swallowed by the horizon, as dusk swiftly approached. Asking around, it seemed that accommodations could be found, as it was a popular trade route, and merchants were often passing through. It was dangerous to continue in the darkness of the open road, with unknown terrain, strange wildlife, and even knowing that my quarry was out there somewhere, so I opted to ask about a bed for the night. Much easier to seek people by light of day, and if they wanted easy prey of merchant caravans, they’d be unlikely to move on. Though, that would also solve the issue. The beds were rough cots, clearly sourced from military surplus despite the wealth of the city and surrounds. Not much in terms of comfort, but there was a lot to be said for the relative safety and security offered by the fortifications made to the outpost, and by the Brass Blades stationed by the gates on regular rotation. Memories of having to do much the same in prior lives came to mind, as I felt a touch of guilt of not envying their position. 

The night was still early, so folks had gathered near the center of the outpost to share tales of the road, both tall and mundane, and to come together to share meals, showing more of a community than I had gotten from just a general impression of the city proper’s populace. On one side, there was a merchant complaining about misplaced packages from his shipment, asking his compatriots to assist in locating them overnight and subsequently being laughed off, with assurances that there was plenty of time in the morning for that. On the other, one of the established traders of the outpost told tales of living plants, whose blood had such apparent power as to keep a person from appearing to age. I nearly scoffed myself, before remembering that I knew practically nothing about this plane, so for all I knew, it could very well be true. I’d certainly experienced enough things I had thought mere stories if I thought about them at all prior to my execution. Soon though, the merriment wound down, as caravan leaders took to rest for the day ahead, and others made themselves weary; from the day’s labour or drink, I do not know which. I found my way to my allotted cot, removed the heavy chain coat and highboots, and allowed what I had come to appreciate in the gentle ache of a healthy exertion take my mind in slumber.

Another morning, and another push against my spark. And unfortunately, another nullified response. Not that I would necessarily abandon people in need, but it was always useful to know whether you had a backup plan if required. I sourced a light morning meal from one of the departing caravans, and had managed to eat most of it before a yell could be heard from the gates leading away from the city.

[holiday-in-eorzea]

Bitter Medicine

Morning light crossed my eyes, as I awoke within the common room of the Quicksand. Folks around me were already setting about their business, or were choosing to rest for longer, each being careful as to not disturb others too much as they passed through the room. I stretched before rising, and made myself ready to start another day. Finding a private moment, I attempted to planeswalk again, hoping that whatever force was keeping me here had subsided, but to no avail. It was not like the influence of the Immortal Sun during the invasion of Ravnica, this was as though I had no ability at all. No fading away, no pull of the soul, nothing. If I couldn’t feel that energy within that indicated my spark, the source of my power and abilities, I would believe that I had never had such a gift. Resigned, I made my way to the bar, and set about obtaining a morning meal. Momodi, to my surprise was already hard at work. I wondered if the woman ever rested, as she walked over.

“Well, younglin', how are you findin' our fine Ul'dah, then? Got your bearin's about you yet? If so, mayhap it's time you ventured beyond the city walls. The bustlin' streets of UI'dah are one thing, but the wilds of Thanalan - that's another altogether.”

“Somewhat, yes. Though I didn’t get much of an opportunity to wander last night.”

Momodi laughed. “Unless you’re one of them that walk in their sleep, I hear you. Mind, I’m not kickin’ you out or naught, but I know a bloke you might fancy speakin' to, and he you. Name of Papashan, You'll find him over at the UI'dah Dispatch Yard. No doubt he'll have some work for you.” She pointed towards the main entrance of the building. “The Dispatch Yard's over in central Thanalan. Just head out the door across the hall and you'll see the Gate of Nald staring right back at you. Pass through it and head east. You'll come upon it 'fore long.” Her face took on a serious look. “There's dangers beyond the wall, though. More than I'd care to count. Nothin' too terrible, mind you, but feisty enough to attack if you draw near. Don't say nobody cared enough to warn you.”

I nodded. “Thank you for the warning, and for all your hospitality so far. Should I have the coin, I will assuredly return to this fine establishment.”

Momodi smiled broadly and winked. “See that you do!”

The morning sun was bright and warm. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the difference in light, but it was nothing I was not used to; from what I had seen thus far, Ul’dah was similar in weather to my home plane of Melenas, though it was a close call for which had more greenery.

Indeed, across from the Quicksand, a large open gate stood. The very same gate I had entered through on my arrival via wagon. Next to the gate, a Lalafell man stood next to one of the riding birds I had witnessed, adorned in a costume designed to emulate their appearance. As I approached, the man shook his head, and held out a hand.

“If you came looking to hire a chocobo porter, I’m afraid I must disappoint you. Our birds are very fickle creatures, and tend to become agitated around those with a certain lack of demeanor. Return once you have proven you can handle yourself, and I will personally see that you are assigned our best bird.”

“Sorry? Ah, I was just curious about these birds in general. You called them ‘chocobo’?”

The man gave a confused look; one I had started to become familiar with. It was the look of someone who was encountering an abnormality; I should clearly know this already in his eyes.

“Yes, these are chocobo. And normally, you could find an attendant in practically any city in a similar uniform to hire one to assist in traversing the open plains of Eorzea. But... where did you say you were from?”

I cleared my throat hurriedly, knowing I had made another misstep. “Um, I didn’t actually. I’m new in town, you see. First time to Ul’dah.”

“And they don’t have...?” Luckily, the man was cut off by another who presented a paper to him, and he left to attend to saddling one of the birds, the chocobo, to serve the newcomer. I took the momentary distraction to slip away. Mentally, I cursed myself. This was exactly the kind of thing the tomestone was meant to be for; finding out information without the need to show my hand to others. Too many innocents had been exposed to the scope of the Multiverse before, and I wasn’t about to increase that number, if I could help it. The knowledge of the existence of other worlds could be harmful to some people, if they couldn’t accept or understand the idea.

Remembering I had promised to return to the guildhall, I made my way through the already bustling streets of the city to the Coliseum. As I parted the imposing door to the entrance, I all but collided with a Lalafell, as she attempted to exit at the same time. If not for the height difference, it might have ended another way.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” I asked. Aside from a fresh amount of dust on her clothing, signifying her as a guild member, she appeared no worse for wear.

“Aye, I’m fine. But you-” She paused from dusting herself off and squinted slightly at my face. “You’re Liya, right?”

“Um... yes? That’s me. Sorry.”

“I was just sent to fetch you for the guildmaster, so my thanks for making my job easier! She’s expecting you.” The woman waved a hand gesturing to follow. The guildmaster herself maintained her watch over the training pit, but had also taken a larger blade to oil and sharpen the edge.

“Good that you return, Liya, though it is somewhat a shame you chose to do so in the early morn, rather than the evening. Not many would welcome letting loose when there is much of the day ahead.” Mylla gave a look of resignation and weariness towards me. I got the impression an amount of people were looking forward to the excuse of the freeing attitude a welcoming party might consist of, and I imagined the guildmaster had her share of worries to put aside, even for a moment.

“I apologise, guildmaster. The hour grew late despite me, and by the end of my errand for Miss Momodi, the toll of our exercise and the day prior asked that I take a rest before rejoining you and your companions.” I bowed my head, hoping the sincerity would be evident.

“Our companions, gladiator. Remember well, you are welcomed here among our number.” Mylla flashed an accepting smile as I raised my head to face her. “Jovialities aside, there is much to be done before you could count yourself a master of the art. You may have exceeded my expectations in our match, but rest assured there will be far greater challenges to come. If you wish to truly master the sword, you must test yourself against a wide variety of foes. To this end, I present to you this hunting log.” She moved over to the guildhall wall, and pulled a leather-bound tome from a small shelf, along with a wax-coated stick of charcoal, before handing them to me.

“It contains information on creatures ideal for a gladiator-in-training. You will doubtless gain valuable experience should you seek out and slay them. It is only with such practice that you will recognize and eliminate the deficiencies in your technique. Feel free to mark the pages as you see fit, and should your insights prove educational, they will be added to the pages of future logs. We all benefit when one does.”

I turned the charcoal in my hands; it felt vastly different to the sticks I had used in a number of lives before, but I held my tongue. Already I had made missteps I was not keen to repeat. Mylla spoke again, refocusing my attention.

“I will now instruct you on another fundamental aspect of what it means to be a gladiator: commanding an opponent's attention. As gladiators, we are trained to engage enemies at close range, weathering their attacks as we deliver our own. This is where some of your skills lie. However, there are times when we must do battle alongside allies whose talents are not the same as our own. In such a situation, your role is not to slay the enemy in front of you, but rather to defend the man beside you. We do this by eliciting the enmity of our opponents through attacks and techniques designed to incite their hatred. Whoever oversaw your training prior knew of these skills, but evidently chose to focus on other areas.”

Once more, my thoughts returned to the past, and the morning sun of Tarkir; the Khan of the Abzan instructing on the traditional forms.

“You must learn to draw the enemy's attention to yourself and to trust in your stout constitution to endure, In so doing, you protect your weaker comrades who would otherwise perish. To help you better understand this, there is a task I would have you perform.”

“Of course, guildmaster.”

“Just Mylla is fine. We are all brothers and sisters in arms, so it would not do to be constantly so far above when battle is done shoulder-to-shoulder. Regardless, it just so happens that Momodi of the Quicksand has requested our assistance—a gang of Lominsan marauders has paraded into town and begun harassing people outside her establishment. We recieved the dispatch not long afore your arrival, and in fact I had tasked a messenger to seek you out.”

“Not that I am not honoured, but surely others are equally capable, if not more so?”

”First, many here have already practiced these techniques in their training, having come to us with less ability than you displayed prior. Second, commanding focused attention is a deficiency I noted during our contest that you would be well served to learn and master. And finally, I am your guildmaster, and if you wish to remain here, you would do well to heed instruction when it is given.”

I could feel my face grow warm, as nearby onlookers witnessed this public dressing-down. “Yes guildmaster, sorry.”

Mylla waved her hand dismissively. “There is no need for apologies, Liya. You came to learn, and part of my role is to teach. What good would it do to turn away promising recruits for such trifles? But as for these marauders, men like these prey on the weak, but will turn tail and flee at the first sign of defiance. You need not resort to violence - it will suffice to show them that you are not afraid of them, and will not tolerate their behavior.”

I nodded. Regrettably, I had encountered such instigators across many worlds.

Mylla continued. “Seek out the Lominsans and make your presence known by bellowing, 'Face me, marauder!' In this way, you will protect the people of Ul'dah, as you would your allies in battle.”

“And if they fight back?”

“They won’t. But if they choose such a ridiculous option, provisions have been taken care of so as to free you from potential problems with the Brass Blades. Now, go and show those Lominsans what a Gladiator looks like!”

I gave a quick salute, adjusted my scabbard, and exited into the oppressive heat of the day.

Returning to the Quicksand, I rather quickly spotted the marauders Mylla had informed me about. About as wide as they were tall, several men, or Roegadyn as the Tomestone informed me, with broad axes strapped to their backs, each wearing salt-dried leathers and loose cotton clothing, had dispersed around the main promenade. I took a deep breath, and firmed up my posture before approaching the closest. The marauder had cornered a young lady, who was glancing around in fright, eager for an escape.

“Alls I’m saying, is ye don’t know what yer missin’. I know ‘ow to treat a girl right, an’ you can show me ‘round ‘fore takin’ me home an’ all.”

‘Pardon me,” I said, trying my best to reach up and tap the man on his shoulder.

He turned around, and gave a brief look towards me, before sneering dismissively “...Just turn around an' walk away, 'venturer.” Steadfast, I refused to budge.

“Are ye deaf? Get lost!” He began to turn back to the young lady.

“Excuse me! I was talking to you!” I grabbed his arm, and pulled him back towards me.

“The 'ells is yer problem!? Maybe she likes 'er men rough! What're ye s'posed to be, 'er bleedin' lady-in-waitin'!?” He squared up, posturing, but noticed the blade at my hip. Suddenly, that bravado retreated. He gave a look over his shoulder at the lady, before returning his attention to me.

“Bah. It don't matter, ye've gone an' spoiled the mood...” The marauder walked off, taking the extra step to leave space as to not even touch me. I watched as he made his way towards the other districts before turning to the young lady.

“Are you alright?” I asked. She nodded gratefully.

“T- thank you. He... wouldn’t take no for an answer, and I got so scared I couldn’t even move.”

“It’s okay now. Just make sure you get home safe, alright?”

She nodded again. “I will. Thank you again.” She ran down the steps leading to the Quicksand’s doors, fixing her top as she went.

“Ye think ye can get away wit’ this!?” A roar of anger from further down the street pulled my attention, and I walked over. Another of the marauders was towering over a merchant beside an overturned cart, a variety of crafted trinkets scattered to the ground.

“What’s going on here?” I called out on approach. The Roegadyn glanced over his shoulder at me.

“The 'ells ye want? This don't concern ye, so bugger off!”

"You know, I think it will concern me in a second.” I assumed my stance, ready to draw my blade if necessary. The marauder turned, seeming ready to continue the argument, before taking in the scene. I could see the quick mental arithmetic running through his head before he took a step backwards.

“Ye know yer friend 'ere's a Twelve-damned cheat!? Thinks 'e can charge us more 'cause we're foreigners! But 'e'll get 'is own back, mark me words!” The marauder shot a dark look towards the merchant before retreating along the street, following the same path his fellow had taken.

I helped the merchant to his feet. “Here, let me give you a hand.” Between the two of us, we managed to right the cart, and retrieve most of the trinkets. He was visibly shaken, but seemed to be recovering quickly.

“I appreciate your intercession there.” he said.

“Just doing the right thing. You have a good day, and look after yourself.”

“Can I interest you, while you’re here, in a lovely brooch or pendant?” The merchant held up a brass piece of work, dusting it off slightly.

I had to hand it to the man; always hunting for the next sale is one of the primary tenants of the merchant life. “Ha, no thank you. I have business elsewhere and shouldn’t linger.”

He gave a flashy smile. “Worth a try at least. My thanks again.”

I mopped my brow. The temperature had increased since I had left the guildhall. I could see why so much of the open space here was as shaded as it was. A shrill yelp drove that thought from my mind as I followed the sound. Sure enough, another of the Lominsan marauders. This time, they had an arm leaned against a wall, intimidating a Lalafell man, standing in a way to suggest violence if he ran.

“Come on now, just let him go. It’s too warm for either of us to be doing this.” I said, my breath coming slightly harder than before. The marauder looked over, barely taking his eyes off his victim.

“Bugger off! Can't ye see I'm 'avin' a civilized conversation with this poxy whoreson!?”

“What did you call me?” the Lalafell piped up. The marauder growled, and the man squeaked and fell silent.

“There’s no need for this. But if you insist on this path, I’m afraid you will be contending with me.” I said, trying to remain calm with an even tone. The marauder tried to fake a lunge at me, but the previous encounters had established they wouldn’t dare try anything against an armed individual of unknown skill.

“What? Ye blamin' me 'cause this little shite shat 'is own pants!? Well, bugger 'im, an' bugger you, too!” He puffed himself up, but then carefully extracted himself from the scene, giving me a wide berth. I was starting to think this was more about building confidence than martial practice.

“I’m fine, by the way!” the Lalafell exclaimed as I watched the marauder leave for peace of mind.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want him to come back?” I replied, still watching the retreating Roegadyn.

“Eep! N-no, assuredly not! A thousand pardons, my lady!” the Lalafell begged, as he scurried away.

I hoped that was the end of them, until I heard a cry of pain and the sound of splintering wood. Tucked into a private corner, just off the main street, yet another marauder was harassing an average citizen, though this encounter had turned violent. A man was lying in amongst the pieces of broken boxes, cradling an arm.

“Ye gots a lot o' nerve, thinkin' ye can talk to me like that!” The marauder yelled, stepping back to deliver a kick to the man’s ribs.

“HEY!” I cried out, sword drawn, all but throwing myself in the way, causing the marauder to hesitate. “If it’s a fight you want, then just try me!”

The marauder raised his hands. “Oi, come on now, 'e was disrespectin' me proud Sea Wolf 'eritage!” He paused to spit on the ground, aiming towards me enough that I could tell it was trying to intimidate, but far enough that he had no intention of pushing forward with the idea. “Fine, I'll leave the bastard be, but we ain't finished!”

“Leave. Now.” I pivoted to the aggressive form I had been taught, preparing to strike, but the marauder took the out I had left, and swiftly withdrew from the scene.

I carefully helped the man up, taking particular care of the arm, which looked broken. “Do you need assistance in getting some help for that?”

Through gritted teeth and clear pain, the man shook his head. “Nay, I’ll be right. I can get to the Alchemist’s guild an' have this taken care of, right quick. He attempted a smile, but it was swiftly twisted into a grimace of pain.”

“No, I’ll get some help for you. Just hold on.” I ran towards the aetheryte plaza, and enlisted the aid of one of the Brass Blades, who helped the injured man off the street.

Looking around, I couldn’t see or hear any further distractions, so I could call this a job done. That was, until a breaking of glass and a yell came from inside the Quicksand. I sighed, but climbed the stairs to investigate.

[holiday-in-eorzea]

A Friend In Need

The master of the Gladiator’s Guild was quick; much quicker than I had initially anticipated, considering her heavy plate. I raised my training blade defensively, reinforcing the flat of it with my off-hand. Even so, the blow stuck heavily, resonating force shocking my wrists as the absorbed the impact.

“Good reflexes.” Mylla commented, backing off her attack and taking a step back to avoid retaliation. For a moment, I wandered through memory, returning to my days training in the Houses of Abzan, and how casually I had been borrowing the magic that Chaka, my host for the time there, had ready access to; to bolster one’s physical abilities to compensate for my own ineptitude. Now, I found myself regretting that loss of power, but knowing that it had allowed me to bridge the gap with perseverance.

“If you like that,” I replied, trying to work feeling back into my hands, “you might appreciate this.” From my stance, beaten into automatic practice of many long days, I echoed Mylla’s movement, lunging forward, sword in both hands, and swung for the throat. As predicted, she easily parried the blow, but in a way that left her exposed. This was a trick I had used before, after having it used multiple times on me: drop the shoulder into the exposed flank, and with the flow of momentum behind me, twist my wrist to force an early surrender with a blade at the jugular. I had expected the recoil from the plate armour, but not from the shield Mylla raised to deflect my body blow, and I was pushed aside like one might do to an insect on a summer’s day. I pivoted with the blow, ready for the counterattack, but it didn’t come.

“Being a Gladiator is more than fancy swordswork, recruit. A good blade will serve well, but a solid shield is what saves lives. And some luck besides!” Mylla spoke more to the crowd than to me, clearly making this more of an exhibition and instruction than simple testing.

I cleared my head, and dropped back into my stance, trying to take in the surroundings for tactical purposes without losing my focus. Mylla noted the movement and assumed her more formal posture. “That stance is interesting. It belies a style consistent with defense, and inviting ire for the sake of a counterblow.” She was sharp; the Abzan were proud of their defensive tactics, and their training had influenced the bulk of my postmortem combat abilities. Reading the atmosphere, I lowered my guard slightly, making a show of stretching my shoulder and rolling my neck to release the tension. This was about the crowd too.

“You’re quite welcome to try and see if you can break it then.” I said, allowing a bravado to my tone, to play to the audience somewhat. A slight ripple of appreciation through the onlookers told me I had managed to be interesting, if nothing else. Mylla snorted, almost a laugh. Once more she was on me in an instant. Another block, as I fluidly retrieved the shield from the shoulder fasten. She was clearly testing my limits, as we fell into something of a rhythm, a muted emulation of the deadly dance of swordplay, though no less intense. The difference in our approaches made themselves more apparent as we continued. Mylla was more mobile, using the field to seek advantages, taking opportunities where she thought she had me flatfooted. However, Daghatar had been quite insistent during the training sessions, even as he thought he was assisting one of his outrider scouts overcome a curse: an adamant defense could hold against the strongest storm. This was the basis of the Abzan style. For every strike, a block. For every dodge, an advance. Surrendering ground was tantamount to admitting defeat. Though it had been a great many years since those days under that Tarkir sun, the flow of forms and stances was close to my heart and memory. I couldn’t let Chaka’s sacrifice be in vain; it had to have been worth it. Each victory, however small, would prove my worth.

Suddenly, an opening; a crack in the flawless defense. I swung out again, dropping from shoulder to hip before allowing the blade to follow through for a reverse slash. But to no avail; the guildmaster intercepted before damage could be dealt, her shield appearing as if out of nowhere, and her blade thrusting toward my ribs. The wind knocked out of me, a splash of green ink coating my breast, symbolising a fatal blow, as I fell to my back, contest ended. I took a moment, lying there in the dust of the training pit, until Mylla extended her hand to help me up, which I took gladly. “You show promise, recruit. I can see you have the knowledge you claim, though it would certainly be aided by the work we do here. It can’t all be defense.” she said, a warm smile crossing her face.

“Who said it was?” I couldn’t help myself. At Mylla’s look, I simply spun my finger, indicating she should turn around. With the help of the attendant who had delivered our training blades, she extracted herself from the heavy breastplate and examined the rear. Diagonally across the spine, a blue slash, indicating a potentially paralysing swipe of my own. She stood for a moment, shocked, before laughing heartily.

“Good show! Goes to say what I meant about the adrenaline of the fight. When did you manage that?!”

“During that last movement. You had passed my reach, so my defeat was already assured. I spun the blade in my hand to catch you on the reverse. If I couldn’t win, I could at least make sure to take you with me.”

“Bold. Under normal circumstances, you would be like as to cut off your own nose with a similar motion. But you used the fact that I was protecting you from that by going for the final blow.”

“Honestly, I was just surprised I was able to keep up. You clearly have a lot of experience under your belt.” Owing to my nature, I could only typically affect the world when in possession of a host body, and that came with certain benefits. In my own form, I wasn’t nearly as physically endowed as I had been times before, so my surprise was genuine.

“Experience you should one day hope to achieve as well. Now with that contest out of the way, I should like to formally induct you into the guild, but I suppose you’d want to clean yourself up some before that.” Mylla indicated with a nod, and I became aware of the dirt on my face.

“Right, yes. Though I also have another matter to attend to for Miss Momodi of the Quicksand.” I said.

“Aye, I know the woman. She’s a good sort. Get that squared away, and then return for your welcome.” She said, before a knowing smile broke out on her face once more. “Then, we can begin in earnest.”

Mylla waved her arm, and another recruit ran over, a cloth-wrapped bundle in her hands. “Before you depart however, consider this a gift from the guild to commemorate your induction.” She pulled the cloth away to reveal a clean suit of mail, matching the style of some of the onlooking trainees. With one hand, she gestured to a side room, and accompanied by the recruit to assist, I changed from the revealing linen top and skirt into the armour. It felt comforting in a way to have the familiar weight against my body. Returning to the main area, Mylla nodded in approval.

“Such a look is better suited to those of our ideal. Wouldn’t last long in just your smalls!” A wolf-whistle from the gathered onlookers rang out before Mylla snapped her head around, trying to find its source. Strangely, no-one stepped forward to claim responsibility, and no follow-up came. She turned back to face me once more. “You have your task to attend to, and I would not keep you. But do not linger; we don’t often see a fresh face within these walls, and a welcoming party is in order, I feel.”

I nodded, before handing back the training gear, and retrieving my own blade. As I left the pit, a number of the trainees clapped me on the shoulder or otherwise showed an appreciation of how I had fared before being called away back into their own training regimens. Still in an energised state, I left the guildhall. As per Momodi’s instructions, I had but one task left to accomplish: the delivery of the letter of introduction to Seseroga, for instruction on the operation of the markets. Granted, it wasn’t a complicated task to imagine the end result, but I thought I should do my due diligence, just in case things were different on this plane.

The Sapphire Avenue Exchange was a bustling streetside market. Any number of people in cool attire made their way through the crowds, expertly maneuvering without collision. Market stalls lined the streets, each with a vendor hawking their wares, enticing the public to spend hard-earned coin on various trinkets and treats. In the center, under a streetlamp, a lalafell man watched with a predator’s eye. My tomestone indicated this was the Seseroga I was to meet.

“Pardon sir, but would you be Master Seseroga?” I bowed slightly in an effort to be polite, and not just out of the urge to make myself shorter for his benefit.He looked me over, a practiced eye assessing and categorising. Or maybe judging my monetary worth.

“And you are? ...Ho, a newly come adventurer. But of course. Yes, I am Seseroga. What can I do for you?"

“I was told you would be a knowledgeable man to speak to.”

“Ah, you would have me teach you the ways of the marketplace? Very wise. As for my fee...” He held out a hand, expectantly. I awkwardly gave a small shrug; Momodi had said nothing about payment.

“What? You expect me to do it for free!? Surely madam, you jest!” He scoffed, and adjusted the cuffs of his coat. “My dear adventurer, when you ask an Ul'dahn for a favor, you should at least try to make it worth his while. Judging by your garb, I rather doubt you could afford my services, but the fact you offer nothing is laughable. Good evening to you.” He began to turn away.

“Wait, please!” I pulled Momodi’s letter from my pocket, and handed it over. “I was instructed to deliver this to you as well.” Seseroga snatched it from my hand before tearing the seal with his thumb and reading the message to himself.

“Oh, it was Mistress Momodi who instructed you to seek me out, was it? Hmph. Consider yourself fortunate to have such influential friends. I owe her a favour. Or at least one, so I shall be brief, and you shall be attentive, and the sooner done, the sooner you can leave.”

Seseroga cleared his throat, and straightened his posture, assuming an authoratiative stance before speaking in a grandiose tone. “You stand in the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, the busiest and most profitable marketplace in the sultanate. Being advantageously situated in relation to the other city-states, UI'dah's markets have ever served as both the literal and figurative centers of Eorzean commerce.” He took a moment to spread his arms, indicating I should take in all the sights and be in awe.

“All the great overland trade routes lead to our city, and the majority of maritime trade between Vylbrand and Aldenard passes through our ports. Because of this, countless companies and consortia have chosen UI'dah as their base of operations. They see to it that this marketplace is awash with merchants and moneylenders, day and night. Anything a man could ever desire can be purchased here—provided as he has sufficient funds.”

He gave me a vaguely dismissive look. “Surely there's something you seek, adventurer? A deadlier sword, perhaps, or a shinier trinket? Whatever it is you want, the exchange will have it.” He pointed along the promenade. “To the north, you will find merchants peddling armor and accessories, curatives and crafting materials.” He turned, and gestured along the street in the opposite direction. “And to the south, you will find weapons, tools, and an assortment of other useful items for sale.”

He turned his direction back towards me. “Seek out a particular merchant, or browse to your heart's content. But do try to remain aloof should you find something that piques your interest. Decisions made in the heat of the moment are usually unwise, especially where coin is concerned.”

Seseroga shook himself slightly, as if throwing a small weight from his shoulders. “Ahem. That is all the complimentary aid you shall have from me—and far too much for my taste.”

“My thanks, Master Seseroga. And thank you for your time as well. I can tell you know your business well.”

“Hmph. Be as it may, you’re still annoying me. Begone, unless you wish to partake in actual business here.”

“Perhaps another time.” I said, but he had already dismissed me from his thoughts, and returned to monitoring the stalls from his vantage point. I looked to the stars to gauge the time; the hour grew late. There could be a chance that the Quicksand had open accommodation I could spend some of my newfound coin on; it had been a long, interesting day. Utilising the tomestone’s map tool, I returned to the Adventurer’s Guild. Momodi waved over to me as I entered the cool interior of the building.

“How was your tour of the city, Liya? Get lost, did you?” Momodi asked, with a sly wink. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but give a small laugh.

“It’s truly a grand place. Though I have you to thank for it not being a far worse excursion.” I pulled the tomestone from my pocket and gestured with it before stowing it again.

“Aye, well, Ul'dah's a big place with lots to see and do—but wanderin' around aimlessly don’t pay the bills. If you're serious about makin' a livin' here, you'll need to remember where things are. So when you go explorin', explore like you've got a purpose, eh?”

“True enough, Ma- Momodi. I have a friend who would do well by that advice.”

“All right, then! All that's left is for you to work hard, make money, and spend it here at the Quicksand!” Momodi gave a cheerful expression, well-practiced for patron appeal.

“Actually, on that note, would you happen to have a room to spare? And maybe a meal? Or if not, would you know of a place that would? It has been a long day, in more ways than one.” I asked while stifling a yawn, feeling the weariness deeply now.

Momodi gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry to say our private rooms have all been booked out for the evenin’. We can make up a pallet for you in the common room; many a traveler’s taken that option without much complaint. Food and drink can certainly be handled; you’ll find no finer in the quarter!”

“That would be most gracious of you, I would welcome any rest I could find. How much, might I ask?”

She waved the idea away. “The common room’s open to all, providin’ we have the space. The meal, I would put at 10 gil. Proprietor’s special.” She winked, kindly. I had the idea that she would normally charge a fair amount more, but was choosing to do a favour for what she believed to be a weary traveler from a far-off city. Little did she know.

“I think that’s a great deal, and I would be happy to pay my way.” I pulled out the small purse I had been given, and attempted to distinguish between the denominations. The coinage was vastly different to what I knew. Rather than the trusted sizing of zibs and zinos, these “gil” were all similar and confusing.

Momodi poked her head over the counter to look into the bag. “It’s one of those smaller silver ones. Just... no, back over... there! That one.”

I looked at the coin. One face was stamped with a stylized set of scales, while the other bore a glyph of a line and a circle. Confirming with the tomestone, it revealed the coin to be worth ten gil, so I handed it over. “Thank you, sorry.”

“Not an issue at all.” Momodi said, though her tone had grown suspicious. I could imagine why. To her eyes, this was now an out-of-town stranger who knew nothing of the population or the currency, where even normal visitors or foreigners would have such rudimentary information. Before I could try and think of an excuse to save myself, Momodi’s expression dropped as if she were choosing to ignore what had happened, and she gave a shrill whistle over her shoulder. From a side door, another Lalafell, a man clad in a chef’s attire emerged. Momodi exchanged instructions with him before he returned to what I assumed to be the kitchens, and indicated a spare seat further along the bar that I could wait at.

Before long, the smell of roasted meat and crisp vegetables wafted through the room as a plate was brought out, along with a chilled glass of wine. As I savoured the food, my first as myself in quite some time, Momodi made her way over, with a small parcel.

“Well Liya, I don’t rightly know how, but you’ve managed to get some mail already today. Must’ve come in while I was attendin’ to business, and I hadn’t noticed until a quieter time.” She handed the parcel over, puzzled, before returning to her regular position, and resuming her work. I swallowed the mouthful I had been chewing, and opened the package. Inside was a letter, and a carefully wrapped ornate feathered hairclip. I read the letter, curious.

“Greetings, friend. I understand your journey across the planes may be concerning, but in time, you will find it of equal, or greater import than your encounter with the necromancer and her draconic master.”

I was dumbstruck. How could anyone here know about that? Unless there was another planeswalker here; one could tell who I was outside of a host body. I looked around, starting to feel worried, before continuing the letter.

“Your secret is safe with me, but suffice it to say, I know of your talents, and for now, you will have to accept my words without proof to the contrary. Enclosed is a gift well-suited to you, I imagine. This trinket is enchanted to grant your spark the ability to attune to the aether of this world more easily. You should find yourself more capable whilst it remains in your possession, compensating for your diminished skills, though that is not an insult. You have no reason to trust, though I hope you will. Again: in time, you will see the truth.

We will meet again, - A Friend.”

I folded the perplexing letter up, and stowed it, before considering the clip. I had little to lose, if the aetheryte guard was to be believed, so I affixed it to my hair, above my left ear. A brief wave washed over me, like I had walked through water, but nothing else. Too late I considered that curses or other such magic could go undetected, but it was done now. Summoning my Spectral Mirror, I observed the piece; it stood out against my gifted mail, but actually complemented my complexion. If there was damage to be done, it would either already be on its way, or not at all, so the trinket could remain for now. I hungrily finished my meal, and found my way to sleep.

[holiday-in-eorzea]

Making My Way

Once outside the Quicksand, I found a quiet corner, and pulled out the tomestone, to experiment with what I could figure out from it, and the number of icons it offered. Ravnica had many devices in general circulation, primarily from the Izzet League, but I was unfamiliar with a lot of them, and technology had not progressed too much in other realms that I had visited. If Kolya was here, he may be able to help me make sense of it, but until I could figure out how to get home, I was on my own.

I prompted the information icon again, aiming more towards myself and the now familiar readout appeared: “Liya Al-amundi”. I noticed with annoyance that the capitalisation was wrong on my matron-name. I assume that's how it had been registered in Momodi's book, and wondered if there was a way to correct it. There was no title, and the race designator listed “Hyur, Midlander”. Where the further information was displayed, when previously it had shown Momodi's, everything was garbled; I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It didn't match any script that I'd learnt or even seen over my years. I wondered briefly about returning to Momodi, and asking about it, but then worried that it may be revealing information that was best kept to myself. But it was interesting to know that, at least here, I to be myself amongst strangers without the need to remember a guise. I would just have to guard my words more carefully. I took an opportunity to surreptitiously sweep the area and updated my knowledge for the majority of races that I could see, hoping to avoid any future conflict.

During the time taken with Momodi's welcome, and my registration with the Adventurers' Guild, the early signs of dusk had overtaken the sky, as night was falling. In the dimmer light, I noticed a glowing crystal next to the guild and wondered if that might be the aetheryte that Momodi had mentioned. Pulling out the tomestone and giving it a quick scan revealed it to be an aethernet shard, with a note that it would be useful to attune to these, owing to their use as a method of guidance in larger areas.

I held my hand out to touch it, but before it could even get there, light shone from the crystal into my hand. Shocked, I tried to pull away, but it was held there by some invisible force. Moments later, the blue light faded, and with that my freedom was gained. The tomestone made a noise, and a small light blinked. Activating it, I found that part of the city map had revealed itself, and been preserved within, providing an more akin to the street maps that I was accustomed with from utilising Ravnica's public transport system. It seemed these aethernet shards would be most useful, if I could find more, though I wondered why it had forced such a connection to just display a map. I turned, and made my way down the street, following signs and the tomestone's map before spotting a familiar face. Although the dark of night had arrived, Wymond had not left the streets, nor had he removed the shaded lenses covering his eyes. Surely, I thought, that would make things harder to see. And if not for the glow of lamp lights throughout the city, I suspected I would have been correct.

“Oh, hello. I didn't expect to see you again given the size of this place.”

Wymond laughed. “So how're you takin' to Ul'dah? Make any new friends in high places yet? Hah! Well, when you have the sultana's ear one day, I hope you won't have forgotten about ol' Wymond!”

I smiled, and shook my head. “I would never. You've already been a great help, even when you had no reason to.”

He scratched the back of his head, sheepishly. “I reckon anyone would've done the same. Least they should. Anyroad, 'long as you're here, mayhap you can do me a favour an' take this missive to Josias at the Platinum Mirage. It's just over yonder, an' the man will even give you some gil for your trouble. If only all work in the city was this easy, eh?” He laughed to himself again and produced an envelope from a coat pocket.

“I appreciate the effort, though surely wouldn't be easier to just deliver this yourself?”

He nodded. “True as may be, but how would you ever learn? An' also there is the reward, so it's not like you're just doin' this for nothin'.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.” I took the letter from his hands, and secured it in a small pocket on my top.

I glanced down the street towards the building advertised as the Platinum Mirage, and saw a curious sight: an unknown creature, floating on air. It almost appeared like a cat, with pure white fur but without the same proportionate limbs, a pair of purple bat wings stuck out from its back that flapped lazily, at a rate I would've thought impossible to maintain flight, and from its head emerged a pink ball of fuzz, which had started to glow in the evening light. I had no reason to make a gawking nuisance  of myself, so a quick scan with the tomestone revealed the creature to be a “Moogle”. The further information stated that they were descendants of fairies. I wondered if Yri knew any from her home plane that she would be able to tell me about. IF I ever figured out how to get home again.

The Platinum Mirage revealed itself to be a training arena of sorts for the Pugilists' Guild - people who would take to combat with nothing other than their physical prowess and bare arms. I questioned the thought; a sword and shield had always served me best, even though my skills were somewhat out of practice in times of peace. Magic had always served as a backup of course, but ever since Tarkir, I had always felt more comfortable with a firm blade than relying on other methods. Entering the guild, I was struck with smell of earth and sweat; showing just how much these people emphasized their physique. Over the side of a small barricade, I could see groups of people sparring with each other. Again, I found myself considering the combat style in the heat of a battle, and weighing up its effectiveness. But if people were dedicated enough, they might be able to prove a surprising tactical unit in the field. Shaking memories of military command from my mind, I turned towards the counter where another Lalafell and a human, or I assumed “Hyur”, judging by my own scan, waited at what a small sign indicated was a guild registration counter. “Hi,” I said, approaching. “Is one of you Josias?” The Lalafell pointed to his companion who responded.

“Yes, do you have business with the Platinum Mirage this evening?”

I pulled out the envelope that Wymond had given me. “I believe this is for you.”

Josias observed the seal on the back. “Ah, a missive from Wymond. Alright then, let's have a look...” He opened the envelope, and quietly read aloud. “'Bird is barren, let the hounds feast.'” He sighed. “So it goes.”

He noticed I had overheard and cleared his throat. “Oh, this? Well you see, the guild is often contracted to provide protective services. Unfortunately for this particular petitioner, Wymond's investigation has revealed his finances to be.... wanting.”

“What could someone have to worry about within the walls of the city?” I asked. “Surely with this size, there would be a town guard, or militia of some kind to maintain peace?”

The man scoffed. “There's all sorts of merchants and ruffians who, while on the side of law and order, skirt closer to the line than most are comfortable with. Maybe adventurers like you don't mind working for free, but we have a business to run. I myself have four mouths to feed at home, so this bird will have to fend for himself, I'm afraid.”

“Isn't there anything you can do? If the petitioner in question is that desperate for protection, isn't it an issue worth looking into?”

Josias shrugged, handing over a small bag of coin. “He could always ask the sultanate guard for protection and take his chances that way, or sort himself out like most Ul'dahns do.” I must've shown a look of shock on my face, or maybe disgust, as he protested. “Ugh, look - I'll see what I can do, but I can't make any promises. Just take your reward and have a good evening.”

I took the small bag, realising my place. “Thank you, and yes that would be appreciated. For my own peace of mind, if nothing else.”

The main street shone with a bright blue light that filled the building opposite the guildhall. I couldn't believe I didn't notice it earlier. The building had no doors, leaving it open to the general public. Within, a massive version of the aetheryte shard I could only assume to be the crystal that Momodi had mentioned. It took up the centre of the room it was easily 20 or 30 feet tall. The blue light it emitted covered the room such that there was no need for lamplight assistance, though it did give everything an ominous glow.

I reached out to touch it, similar to the smaller shard. It felt like my arm was being grabbed by a powerful force, again leaving unable to move away, but stronger this time; almost like it was trying to pull my mind as well, as my vision began to tunnel towards the crystal. The same blue light diffused into my arm. Memories filled my mind; places far away, things that I thought I had forgotten in my long years. It felt like ages in my own mind, though simultaneously I was aware that it was brief moments before the shock of the sudden release.

A voice called out from behind. “Hail, adventurer! Might you have come at the behest of Miss Momodi of the Quicksand?”

I turned to see a Lalafell man approaching me, clad in a guard outfit bearing the emblem of the city that flew on the flags topping some of the buildings around. “Excellent. Which brings us to the matter of the attunement fee - that will be 100,000 gil, if you please, madam.”

I stepped back reflexively; I wasn't sure how much money I had been given, but I doubted it would account to that much. The man burst into laughter. “...AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Apologies, but I do so relish the opportunity to make that jest. The look on your face was absolutely priceless! Ah, but the fact that you are so easily deceived suggests to me that you are unfamiliar with the use of aetherytes. Allow me to explain.”

He waved a hand to the giant crystal and my gaze followed his gesture.

“These crystalline agglomerations tap into aetherial energies, and are primarily used as a means to travel swiftly from one place to another. Perchance you have heard of Return and Teleport? Well, these transportation spells make direct use of the aetherytes and their connection to the flow of aether.”

I was momentarily confused. I hadn't felt anything like the pull of these aetherytes while visiting Kaladesh, where aether flowed freely and shaped the landscape, and could be harnessed by the many artificers and crafters of the plane to fuel their constructs, along with birthing the Aetherborn that resided there. Perhaps this was a similar, though different, phenomena that coincidentally happened to share the same name. Great minds thinking alike, as the case might be.

“Given that there is an aetheryte in almost every corner of Eorzea, any adventurer with a mind to explore the realm will wish to seek out and attune themselves to each and every one! But even if you have no intention of wandering beyond the sultanate's borders, it would be prudent for you to attune yourself to any aetherytes you encounter from now on.”

He bowed. “I pray you found that informative. Should you wish wish to learn more about aetherytes or transportation magic, I should be happy to answer your questions.”

Indeed, I searched my own mind, and deep within the memories that had arisen from the contact with the aetheryte, I found buried within, not of my own knowledge, the runes and gestures needed to return aetherically to these localised giant crystals. Were I to remain here for any length of time, I imagine these spells of transit would prove useful skills. I turned back from the crystal to the guard.

“How does this work, exactly?”

He shuffled slightly in place. “Well, in order to understand the workings of aetherial travel, one must first understand the nature of aether itself. Aether is an invisible, intangible substance that exists all around us.” I nodded thoughtfully; the basic premise seemed similar to what I had learned on Kaladesh.

“It flows through every living being, including you and me. It is what sustains us, and without it, we would perish. Once the spirit departs the body due to death, our remains are reduced to aether and returned to the aetherial river known as the Lifestream. However, it was long ago discovered that, with sufficient control of one's spiritual energies, a man could deliberately reduce his physical form to aether without severing the connection between body and soul. And so the spells known as Return and Teleport were born.”

“And what happens if say, for example, a spirit tried to use it? Say, someone who was already dead?”

The guard laughed. “Well, surely such a thing wouldn't happen, so there's no need to question! But, I suppose if the Lifestream decided that it was not the spirits' time to return, they would remain wandering alone with no body.”

I laughed awkwardly. “...Yes, I suppose that makes... sense. Thank you. But what are these crystals? How does this happen? And is there a way to make more?”

“Well, the crystalline agglomerations of aether that you see here are vital to aethereal travel. Simply by touching it, you can attune your body's aether to our crystal, and should you fall in battle and your body be reduced to aether, you may awaken back at the aetheryte with which you have the strongest resonance - your “home point”. With the proper training, however, you can resist the pull of your home point and travel to a different aetheryte. This is the technique commonly referred to as “Teleportation”. But know that you can only travel to an aetheryte with which you have previously attuned. When visiting an unfamiliar area, you would do well to seek out the nearest aetheryte before engaging in any dangerous activities. In essence, aetherytes act as lodestones, which allow us to move contrary to the natural flow of the Lifestream. But be fairly warned: to attempt aetherial travel without these lodestones is akin to suicide.”

“That didn't answer my question...” I said.

The guard shrugged. “I only know mostly about how they're used. There are a lot of stories about how aetheryte crystals, especially the large ones like such, get made. Some say it's an aether leak that accumulates in places of population. Others say it's people channelling the Lifestream for their own ends, and coincidentally happen to make something useful out of it. I can't say for sure.

“Right. Also, sorry for wasting your time, but... you mentioned that there were two spells - Return and Teleport? I only learned the one from the crystal. Is that normal?”

“Well compared to Teleport, Return is less taxing on spiritual energies, as we are naturally drawn towards our “home point”, where our aetheric resonance is strongest. The spell can be cast quite quickly, making it ideal for emergencies. By way of a drawback, you can't select your destination at will - Return can only send you back to your home point. Teleport, however, offers greater versatility, in that you can travel to any aetheryte with which you have previously attuned. However, it requires a great deal of spiritual energy known as “anima”  to safely guide one's body and soul to the weaker aetherial beacon. Do not worry, though - many adventurers recover quickly and are more than capable of frequent travel. That is, assuming they can afford the costs involved.”

“Costs? I thought this was from your own energy?”

“Well, you see, in the Calamity, many of the aetheryte camps across Eorzea were damaged, if not completely destroyed. Rebuilding these camps came at a great expense, and the money which made this possible was lent by certain wealthy individuals. This debt is being repaid to this day, and it is for this reason that we must levy a fee upon those who use the Teleport spell.”

“I see. So there are known ways to make new crystals; they're just being guarded by the wealthy. Or at least, their agents.”

The guard shook his head slightly. “True enough. But that's the way of the world; no-one gets rich by being generous.”

“Yes, well, I've taken enough of your time. Thank you again for the information.”

“Anytime, miss. And if you ever come into the funds for that attunement fee, I'll be waiting.” He smirked with a wink, and resumed his patrol.

I took a moment to collect myself before I vacated the plaza, and continued on, once more following the signs that led me towards the Gladiators’ Guild. The guildhall itself was located in the heart of the Coliseum; judging by signs on the walls, proclaiming itself a battle arena for those interested in the more performance aspect of combat, or seeking coin for their efforts. I approached the reception counter, staffed by a male Hyur and a male Lalafell.

“Pardon, but is this where someone would register as a Gladiator? It was suggested that I should inquire about that path.”

The Lalafell spoke up. “Indeed! Welcome to the Gladiators' Guild, friend! Tell me, are you new to the thrills of mortal combat?”

“I-”

“Well, whether you are or not, you are new to us! If you would take your place in these hallowed halls, you must be willing and ready to undergo the most rigourous training. You must endure cuts and bruises beyond counting, and like as not far worse.”

My mind flashed back to the training regimens of the Knights on Melenas, the tutelage of Daghatar, Khan of the Abzan, and the sparring with Kolya. The receptionist continued, unabated. “A daunting prospect, I concede - but there is no other way if you mean to take to the bloodsands one day. And why wouldn't you? The Coliseum is only the most celebrated place of public entertainment in all of Ul'dah! Where else could a poor man a massive fortune so vast as to one day allow him to claim a seat on the Syndicate? Ahhh... there's not an Ul'dahn alive who isn't inspired by the rise of the self-made man. And there is no truer embodiment of this than the gladiator who wins riches and fame with his sword. Throughout its long and storied history, this guild has nurtured countless champions. Our training methods are second to none, and our members ever strive to develop new techniques. If you desire true glory - to fight and triumph, 'midst of the roar of ten thousand voices - then this is where you belong, adventurer. ...Think of it. Think of your legacy. And if your soul stirs... join us”.

Strangely, I did actually think about that. What was I leaving behind? If I were to ever finally rest, or perhaps seek the albeit painful release of Ecruna's sun, what would be left of my name? I knew I had some descendants on my home plane, but I was likely to be long-forgotten and unnotable by now, a brief footnote on a family tree. Each world I had passed though, I had donned a borrowed disguise of a host body compatible with my spirit and spark, only revealing the depths of my secrets to my closest, and most trusted allies. Other than that, only my enemies really knew who I was beyond that, but would they be allowed to make any impact with their actions in such a fashion where I might be remembered alongside them, as someone who stood up for what was right?

“Well, what will it be? Will you rise above the masses and inscribe your name in legend, or will you resign yourself to mediocrity and die in obscurity?” He was putting it on a little, trying his best to sell the idea of immortality through legacy, but he also couldn't have possibly known how deep his words resonated.

“...Yes.” I said, resolving to make a mark, even for the hopefully little time I was stuck here.

“Aha! A decision you shan't regret. One moment...” He drew a deep breath, and announced to the to the Guild in general. “Make way for Liya al-Amundi! Fresh meat coming through!” He addressed me more casually now, dropping the pretense of advertising and flowery formality. “Sorry about that, it's kind of a tradition. Now then, before your enrollment can be considered complete, you must present yourself to First Sword Mylla. Seek her out and obtain her approval.”

A quick scan of the room with my tomestone revealed that the heavily armoured woman overseeing the gladiators in training was indeed Mylla, though in fairness, I could have guessed as much without the assistance. But it pays to be sure. I approached and introduced myself. The blonde woman turned, imposing in her stature.

“Aye, I overheard Lulutsu. So you’re Liya al-Amundi? 'Tis a good, strong name. On behalf of the Gladiators' Guild, allow me to welcome you. I am Mylla, guildmaster here.” She gave me an appraising look, trying to read an intent. “So, you wish to study our arts? I presume you have your reasons for choosing the sword over all other weapons. Perhaps you think it easiest to learn. A sword is a simple weapon. But to wield a blade well is anything but simple. for every Coliseum champion to emerge from our ranks, there have been countless disappointments who failed to achieve greatness. Bear that in mind before you answer me, Liya, for I do not ask this question lightly; have you the strength to live by the sword and - if it be your fate - die by it?”

In memory, I recalled the many ways that I had, in fact, died by the sword; from the first, to more recent times, knowing that unfortunately, given my history, they would be unlikely to be the last.

“So do I swear” I replied, nodding my head and offering an Abzan salute, almost unconsciously.

Mylla gave a look of curiosity, and spoke again.“Then welcome, gladiator, to your new home!” I winced slightly, hoping that this home, although nice, would not be permanent. I already had a home, and I was eager to get back to it. “Let's not waste time, shall we? I would gauge your aptitude for the sword. You have your choice; you can either spar with me, or take a hunting request. Most newcomers opt for the latter” she scoffed with a wry smile. “So, just outside the gates of Ul'dah, you'll find plenty of marmots, hornets, and shrews. Slay three of each and return here when finished. A simple task, but essential to your training nonetheless.”

“If it's all the same, I think I'd like to try sparring.”

An audible hush passed through the guildhall. Mylla raised an eyebrow.

“Are you sure? There's no shame in taking the hunt. Most here have done similar on their paths.”

I nodded. “I have experience in martial forces, and though my style may be... different to what you would undoubtedly instruct, I would still wish to test my own skills.”

Mylla smiled. “Very well.” She turned to face the swordsmen training in the pit, clearly noting they had halted to witness my introduction. “Clear the pit, and observe closely. Twelve know I don't get a chance to exercise my skills.” A brief frown crossed her face. “Though it would hardly be fair for you to contest unarmoured. And your blade, though dull as I see it, could still cause harm where you do not wish. Would you accept a loan of training arms for our match? Of course, I would respond in kind.”

I nodded. “A wise decision, guildmaster.”

Mylla whistled sharply, and one of the formerly sparring swordsmen snapped to attention and ran down a small hallway, only to return with a pair of what appeared to be wooden swords, a rough buckler, and a leather coat. He presented one of the blades to Mylla before attending to my aid. The weight was close to the sword I was temporarily surrendering, though I could see an odd colouration to the blade’s edge. Mylla spoke, as if noticing my confusion.

“With the assistance of the Thaumaturges’ Guild, our training weapons are enhanced with an illusory dye, so that we may more easily pay attention to our strikes. Observe.” She rapped the blade against her chest plate, and a green line remained once the blow had been dealt. “With the focus and energy of even a sparring contest, it can be easy to forego notice of a strike that in the heat of a real battle would maim or worse. This way, we learn not just to handle the blow, but to avoid getting hit to start.” Mylla ran the palm of her hand up the flat of the wooden blade, and the mark on her armour shimmered and vanished. She gave a wry smile. “Doesn’t stain, either.”

I simply nodded, remembering the times of war I had witnessed, and my feelings within. The coat was simple, but serviceable. It reminded me of the attire of Innistrad, though the memory attached was one I would sooner forget. I affixed the buckler to a purpose-made strap the coat had, near my shoulder on my back; easy to draw from if needed. Mylla simply cocked an eyebrow at my choice, saying nothing.

The trainees emptied the area, standing around the fence, clearly spectating. “As you're new, I will restrain myself, lest you be injured on your first day.”

I nodded. “Thank you; I can see you're an honourable woman. But you may be surprised by what I can do.” I assumed my stance, drilled into my muscle memory from years of practice. Another appraising look from the guildmaster, as she mentally adapted to my style, searching for weaknesses as any warrior would. One of the other guild members, in slightly different attire to the others, approached with a cloth in hand.

“Ready?” He glanced from side to side, seeking confirmation from both of us. “Begin!” He waved the cloth before retreating to safety, as the guildmaster leapt forward.

[holiday-in-eorzea]

Signing Up

Ul’dah was an imposing city, built to last. Not as defensible as Arashin, I noticed. The architecture reminded me more of the sprawling city of Ravnica, but designed to draw your eye in particular directions; chief of which being the centre spired building I would have to imagine was the Sultana’s palace. There’s a bit of Orzhov taste to it. As I took in the expansive surrounds, a man’s voice called out.

“Oi, ‘venturer! Over here!”

I turned to see a man dressed in dark shades, though the material looked light and thin; ideal for the heat of the day.

“Me?” I replied, pointing to myself.

“Aye, I mean you. Fresh off the carriage, by any chance?”

I was shocked that I could be so easily found out. I must have let something show in my expression though, as he continued heedless. “Name’s Wymond, an’ my business is knowin’ every bugger else’s! An' I ain’t seen you ‘round before. Therefore, you’re new!”

I was shocked at how easily I seemed to have already revealed my cover, but before I could respond, the man, Wymond, kept talking.

“What if I was to offer you some invaluable advice by way of welcome to our fair city? Free of charge even! Just this once though.” He said with a wry grin.

“It depends on the advice.” I replied carefully, my hand gesturing towards the hilt of the sword at my hip. I needed to watch myself until I found out more about my situation.

Wymond held up his hands defensively, suggesting he meant no harm. “Anyone with eyes can tell you don’t know your way ‘round here. An’ if I let you go on like that, you’re liable to get mugged in some dark alley or worse, an’ I don’t want that on my conscience.”

He turned and gestured with a nod towards a building with banners at the front. “You’d best be headin’ to The Quicksand, and speak with Momodi. She runs the Adventurer’s Guild, an’ can set you on the right path.”

I nodded. “That sounds fair. Thank you.”

“Nah, just doin’ the decent thing. But that’s all you’re gettin’ for free, mind.” He said with a wink that was hard to see behind his darkened lenses. “Quick word in your shell-like though;  that accent you have? I can’t place it, and I reckon I’ve heard most all of ‘em. So try as to stay out of trouble if it’s lookin’ for you. We don’t get a lot of unknown sorts all that often, and there may be other buggers ‘round who’d take that as a sign of an easy mark. So keep an eye.”

I hadn’t considered that; it rarely, if ever, had come up in my travels. “Thank you, I will.” I waved a quick goodbye and headed towards the building.

The Quicksand revealed itself to be a tavern with a common room, with upstairs areas for accommodation. Despite the hour, the common room was busy; I supposed people seeking to escape the heat. Behind the counter at the far side of the room, a young girl stood on a stool in order to see over the counter to survey the room, a heavy book placed in front of her. There were a couple of others behind the counter at other points around the room, but overhearing conversation indicated they were looking after the accommodations of patrons and taking orders for meals. As I approached, I quickly corrected my initial thought, as the “young girl” turned out to be a short, though otherwise adult-proportioned woman with similarly pointed ears to the carriage driver I had previously seen. They could be relatives of the Kithkin I had encountered on Lorwyn. The woman noticed my approach, and smiled.

“Why, hello there! Who might you be? If you’re lookin’ to join the Adventurer’s Guild, you’ve come to the right place.”

“Are you Momodi?” I asked.

“Sure am! And I own this fine establishment, if it pleases you. I also happen to manage the Adventurer’s Guild here in Ul’dah. So you might say that lookin’ after green adventurers like yourself is my vocation.” She swept her hand in a presentational fashion; a knowingly false modesty about her as she continued.

“And lucky for you that it is. Without someone like me to steer you right, you’d soon find yourself out in the middle of nowhere, caught up in business you don’t understand!”

I caught myself before protesting. While I technically had over a thousand years of traveling the multiverse and adventurous tales under my belt, she had a point; more often than not, I found myself drawn into situations without context and understanding. Mostly due to the nature of my being, of course, but not exclusively.

“You may be right about that, Madam Momodi.” I replied with a small, self-deprecating laugh.

“Just Momodi is fine, I’m not nearly old enough to be called ‘madam’ just yet!” Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes sharpened at the remark. “Between the Amal’jaa tousling with the Sultanate, the Garlean Empire plotting something, and all the regular folk just getting by, there’s a lingerin’ air of worry and loss.” She gave a small resigned laugh, shaking her head slightly before continuing. “And little wonder. It’s scarce been five years since the lesser moon cracked open like a giant egg, releasin’ an abomination intent on turnin’ the realm into an eighth hell....”

“Sorry, what?! The moon... broke?” I was shocked, but my exclamation didn’t stop Momodi from continuing, lost in a memory.

“So much was lost in the blink of an eye. ‘Twas like the end of the world had come at last. But then things begin to get foggy. Everyone’s got their own version of what happened next -- some of ‘em, two or three...” Momodi gave a start, as if remembering I was there.

“You’d think people would remember somethin’ like that -- but the fact is, they don’t. Nobody does.”

“How is that possible?”

“Don’t rightly know. But there is one thing the survivors agree on though: the part played by a band of adventurers who laid down their lives for a realm that wasn’t their own. They fought valiantly, and like so many others, they never returned. Deeds worth rememberin’, I’m sure you’ll agree. It’s just a shame our recollections of those brave heroes are as jumbled as those of the Calamity itself.” I could hear the emphasis placed on the word “calamity”, a signifier of importance, much like when I learned of the Mending that had affected the entire multiverse.

“Whenever we try to call their faces to mind, it's like they're standin’ between us and the midday sun, permanently silhouetted… I'll bet that sounds poetic to you doesn't it? Well it's not. It's bloody infuriatin’.” She gave a small grimace, almost as if the memory, or lack thereof hurt her.

“But even if we can't remember them, we’ll not let ‘em be forgotten, and so we call ‘em the Warriors of Light. And they’ll forever stand as a shinin’ example of what adventurers can achieve. That's why I welcome new arrivals like yourself to our fair city.” Momodi made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “All I ask is that you lend a helpin’ hand, and try to leave Ul’dah in a better state than you found her. If you can promise that, I’d be happy to let you join the guild.”

I nodded solemnly. “I think I can handle that.”

Momodi nodded along with me, as if she were expecting that answer.

“All right, then! A promise is a promise, now! I'm counting on your help to put the past behind us. We need people workin’ and spendin’ and bickerin’ like the old days! And a happy and prosperous Ul’dah means more business for the Quicksand, too! Anyroad, let's make this official.”

She placed an ink pen in the centre of the ledger then slid it towards me on the counter.

“Go ahead and write your name in the register – neat as you can.”

A brief moment of worry crossed my mind; would they even use the same script as I'd learnt? Nothing for it but to try, I thought. I took the ink pen in my hand and made my name out as best as I could. Momodi quickly took the book and pen back before looking at it.

“...Liya al-Amundi. Well that ain't that a charmin’ name. Just rolls off the tongue, it does. Though your handwritin’ isn't anythin’ I've seen before. Where did you say you came from again?”

“I didn't,” I said. “I just came into town.” I tried to swallow my nerves.

Momodi gave me a little wink; like she’d dealt with this type of business before, and knew better to ask too many questions.

“I suppose it's no business of mine. Alright, Miss al-Amundi! On behalf of the Adventurers’ Guild, I officially –”

She was cut off by a cry from behind. We both turned to look as a man was being pushed around by a group of people; two human-sized, one smaller.

“Please, sir, be merciful! Twelve as my witness, I swear to you, I'll bring you your money!” He was shoved to the ground before he could make it much for the protest. 

“In the East, it is said that even a merciful God might be driven to vengeance if thrice blasphemed. Be grateful you were given a fourth chance to offend. You two, attend to this scum.” The small man gestured to what I assumed were his bodyguards, or more likely, enforcers. 

The man lowered his head to the ground again.

“No, please! Mercy!” he cried.

Momodi shrugged. “Well, ain't that a sorry sight. Nor an uncommon one, if I'm honest. Don't worry, though - if you work hard, I doubt you'll end up like him. Just the same, if you ever need a bit of advice about one thing or another, pay me a visit. Just don't go botherin' me every time you stub your bloody toe, all right?”

She blushed and mocked fanning her face. “'Course I do enjoy hearing a lady muse on the many manhoods of her acquaintance from time to time...” “Anyroad, welcome to Ul'dah, Liya! Take a moment to catch your breath and I'll teach you a little about our fair city.”

“I might just take you up on that offer” I said, my cheeks reddening. “Though, maybe not that other one in particular.” Suddenly, I realised how dry my throat was from the conversation. “Actually, might I trouble you for a cup of water, or some other refreshment? I'm a little tired from the road.”

“Of course! Here, on the house.” Momodi pulled a pitcher from the bar behind her, and poured a clay mug of clear liquid before handing it over. “Just this once, mind. Ul'dah isn't a city where you can expect somethin' for nothin', you know.” The water was crisp and cool; I wondered how they managed to keep it in such a state, considering the environment. Momodi put a finger thoughtfully to her lips before continuing. “Before you go chargin' off to find your fortune, I've a few basic tasks I'd like you to perform so as to help you get to know the place.” She held up one finger. “First of all, I want you to visit the aetheryte plaza. To get there, head west from here 'til you reach Emerald Avenue, then look to the north. You should see a giant, floatin' crystal called an aetheryte. If it weren't for aetherytes, travellin' around Eorzea would be a damn sight more troublesome than it is. 'Course, you still need to attune with 'em before you can use 'em, so be sure to do that with the one in the plaza. You ever attune with an aetheryte before, Liya? If not, just lay your hand on the thing and you'll see what I mean.” So, this plane must be called Eorzea, I thought to myself. Momodi continued on with her instruction, holding up a second finger.

“When you've done that, I want you to pay a visit to the Gladiators' Guild over at the Coliseum.” She pointed at the blade at my hip. “Assumin' that sword ain't just for show, you might consider trainin' there.” Third finger in the air. “And finally, I want you to visit the Sapphire Avenue Exchange, over on the Steps of Thal. Goods from all over Eorzea and beyond turn up there every day. You'll have no trouble findin' armour, weapons, or anythin' else a fledglin' adventurer like yourself might need. You might say that everythin's is for sale here in Ul'dah - as long as you've got the gil. Just make sure as you don't pay more than you ought, Liya. There's plenty as won't scruple to swindle unsuspectin' foreigners like yourself, 'specially if they think no one's lookin' out for their best interests.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket “Which is why I'm givin' you this letter. When you visit the exchange, find a gentleman named Seseroga and give it to him. He'll be happy to tell you about the markets once he's read it.” Momodi ticked off the three fingers on her hand. “In short, then; visit the plaza, the Gladiators' Guild, and the Sapphire Avenue Exchange.” Momodi nodded at that. “Simple.”

She paused for a moment. “Oh, but before you go, a word of advice: while there're more than a few unsavoury characters out there who'll try to take advantage of you, there are also some there are also some with honest-to-goodness problems you should consider offerin' a helpin' hand to. A lot of folk are lured to this city by the promise of wealth and power. What many of them fail to realise that instead of chasin' after gil the moment they get here, they ought to be makin' friends.” I nodded. I had been all too familiar with the plight of the downtrodden across the Multiverse, and those in a similar situation.

“Let it be known that you're willin' to give as much as you get, and opportunities will come your way.” Momodi looked over to the right, leaning on the bar and straining to point across a comparatively vast expanse. She pointed out a gentleman dressed in a green tunic. “Speakin' of which, you should speak with the Smith over yonder - those lads always have some good advice for up-and-comin' adventurers. Otherwise, that's about it from me. It's past time you got goin'. Oh, and let me know when you've finished, will you? That way, I won't spend my days worryin' that you're down to your smallclothes without a gil to your name.”

The man in green, the Smith, I supposed, noticed we were looking at and talking about him, so he glanced in our direction and gave a small wave, acknowledging that he had been a subject of our conversation.

I turned to leave.

“Actually, hang on a second.” Momodi stopped me.

“What is it? I asked.

“Just quickly, for my own curiosity: what am I?”

I was confused. “Pardon?”

She repeated herself, staring a hole through me. “What am I?”

I was flustered; I couldn't think of what to say. Momodi nodded to herself.

“I thought as much. The way you reacted about hearin' about the Calamity indicated that you might not be from a place as was familiar with the local customs.”

I blushed, knowing the truth of the situation but unwilling to explain at the moment.

She reached under the counter. “Now, normally I wouldn't do this for just about anyone, but you seem to be a special case - so here.” She handed over a black slate about the size of a dinner plate. With a touch of her finger, it lit up.

“This here is called a tomestone. With that, you'll be able to see information about a great deal of many things, as long as you’re pointed at what you want to know about and have the time to do so. I wouldn't recommend just standin' out in the middle of a fight, tryin' to learn everythin', for example. So as you can get familiar with it, I'm givin' you permission, just this once - try it on me. Normal folk won’t take as kindly to you knowin’ their business so easily - if they know you’re doin’ it.”

I reached out and took the device. It was lighter than I had expected, and given the apparent fragility of it, I feared it might break the instant I touched it, but it lit up but my touch, like it did for her.

“So how do I...?”

She pointed out a small picture on the plate.

“This icon is your information scanner. Point the flat side towards me, and push this button.”

I did so and suddenly a stream of information appeared on the device. Words appeared: “Momodi Modi, Quickstand Proprietress – Lalafell, Dunesfolk”, as well as some other details that I had no context for, but nothing too compromising.

“Oh, is this what you mean?” I asked, turning the information towards her.

“Yep, that's right! Now you see this? The word Lalafell?”

“Yes?”

“That's me. My kin and I are called Lalafell, and you may be gettin' into trouble if you call us anything else,” she said with a bit of a dark glare, as if remembering something with a bad taste. “So make sure you remember it, an' try to learn more about the city and its populace before you go puttin' your foot in your mouth out of ignorance.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “I will endeavour to do so. Thank you, M-” I stumbled, remembering that she didn't like to be called Madam. “Momodi.”

“You just make yourself worthy of this gift, and when you're rich and famous, make sure to come back and spend lots of money here!”

I turned once more to leave the relative cool temperatures and sanctuary of the Quicksand.

[holiday-in-eorzea]

New Arrival

It started with a flash in the sky. At least, that’s what I remember. It was a normal day, in as much as normal is anymore; wake up before dawn to head downstairs and help set up the bakery, work with Elnaya to weather the morning rush, then the quiet that follows. Kolya had a rare break around midday, so we met up to spend some time together, bringing Caidi both for their company and to better enjoy ours. I might have been inhabiting an Orzhovian syndic, but luckily Kolya knew how to work out the paperwork to allow my host temporary leave while I was borrowing their body, regardless of what guild they normally operate in.

We had just received our order from the small Azorius delicatessen Kolya preferred when it happened; a bright flash in the corner of my vision. I turned to look, only to find nothing.

“Did you see that?” I asked. Kolya shook his head.

“No? What happened?”

“There was some sort of light. Just there.”

I tried to lift my borrowed hand to point, but felt a great weight on it, leaving me unable to move. My vision blurred, and I felt a dizziness overcome me, as if I had taken far too much to the drink.

“Liya? Are you...” Kolya’s words faded away, as though I had gone deaf. I felt myself starting to drift away, similar to the feeling of when I planeswalk, but not of my volition. I tried to concentrate on staying, focusing, but to no avail. The haze around my vision coalesced into a bright light as I saw Kolya stand from his chair in a state of panic before he, and the world, were gone.

When the light faded, I could see nothing but stars in all directions. A wave of nostalgia hit me; this was what traveling the Blind Eternities felt like before my imprisonment. Before everything changed. I drifted through nothingness until I felt ground under my feet. Boots, I corrected myself; I was already in a new host body. I looked down, relief washing through as a human, feminine chest greeted me. Not that there’s anything wrong with being male, or another species, but I had always felt comfortable when I was allowed to be closer to my true form. The clothes felt different, unfamiliar; I couldn’t place the style, though fashion was never a strength of mine.

A voice called out of the void, echoing in my head: “Hear... Feel...”. Ahead, a light shone, seeming to call out for me to approach. Though as I got closer, it erupted into shadow; a figure in black armour wearing a red mask emerging from the darkness.

“Hear... Feel... Think...” the voice called again, the source of light escaping the shadow and floating towards me. I felt a rush of energy, similar to when I borrowed mana from previous hosts, drawing upon my own planeswalker spark to channel their magic, but this came from without, not within. Another flare of light, and when it had receded, I was clad in plate armour of bright silver, the weight suddenly upon my frame. Instinct told me to draw my blade, though I could feel no scabbard at my hip. In the motion, light shone from my fist, forming a beautiful blade, matching shield materialising in my left hand; a combination I had unfortunately become used to in my afterlife out of necessity.

The armour-clad figure raised his arms, channeling more darkness to him. I lifted my blade in a form of challenge as he lunged heedless towards me. The training I had undertaken all those years ago while in the Abzan Houses served me well as I prepared to counter his momentum...

The jostling of a wagon and a man’s voice stirred me from a seemingly daydreaming state, though I would swear it had felt all too real. “...Hey. Hey you!”

I blinked. No longer in a void of stars, I was seated in a wooden, horse-drawn wagon. My form and clothing remained like those in the, dream I suppose, with a plain looking blade tied to my hip. Across from me sat an older man, dressed in dark blue, with blond hair.

“Y’all right, lass?” the man asked, a kind concern in his voice. “You were moanin’ somethin’ fierce for a while there.” I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I certainly didn’t mean to react like that! Though maybe it was something my host had done before I had inhabited them, as I chose to believe. Wished to, for the sake of decency.

“Feelin’ the affects of the aether, I reckon. You’ll get used to it, though, don’t worry.“

I glanced past him, looking at our surroundings. No signs of aetheric energy in the clouds or the little plant life I could spot from a moving position, so Kaladesh was unlikely. I wondered what he meant by aether, then.

I took a moment while the man looked towards our other passengers, a pair of children it seemed, twins by their appearance; one boy and one girl. They appeared to be either asleep or deep in thought. Using the familiar, practiced motion, I drew upon one of the parts of my spark that I knew was mine alone, not my host’s, and summoned my Spectral Mirror. Shockingly, the face that greeted my vision was my own! Not another’s, but mine. It had been some time since I had seen it before visiting Ecruna, and only through Caidi’s magic had I been able to since. I reached out with my mind to contact Caidi, but got nothing in return, suggesting they couldn’t hear me. Did this mean I was actually here, whichever plane this was, in the flesh? Or as a shadowkin? Tenatively, I reached my hand out into the sun, expecting a searing pain as though from Ecruna’s star, but got only a pleasing warmth. How then, was this possible? What kind of magic did this plane possess that I could be here as myself?

A call from ahead: “You there - halt!” I leant out the side of the wagon to look ahead, unprepared for the sight of a man riding what appeared to be a giant kóta adorned in barding as you would a horse. No, not kóta; what was the word... chicken. A look towards the wagon itself revealed two similar birds at the reins, not horses. The wagon itself also appeared to be held aloft by balloons, not wheeled! I could hear the man calling for his fellows to conduct an inspection as they surrounded the wagon. The older man motioned me to caution; the twins had yet to move an inch. One of the inspection agents approached the rear as the older man spoke up.

“I’m just an honest peddler, friend. So, er, ...don’t be too disappointed if you don’t find nothin’, eh?”

Then it happened: the guard reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag; brandishing it to his fellows. I was unsure if I was meant to see it or not.

“Sir, look! Somnus!” He was practically grinning as he presented it. I turned to the older man, apparently a merchant, ready to draw my blade in defense if things got rough, but he just rolled his eyes and shook his head towards me, indicating patience.  He seemed unperturbed by the threat of imprisonment or a fine, suggesting this was an ongoing issue he’d encountered many times before.

The faint whistle in the air was the only warning I got. Before I could react, and arrow fired into the floor of the wagon, startling everyone but the two children, still dead to the world by all accounts. One of the inspecting guards, a scout judging from his position around the flank gave a cry of “Amalj’aa! Amalj’aa! To arms! To arms!” as he wheeled his mount towards the west, attracting the attention of his compatriots. Another armoured man, being chased by three large lizard-like humanoids was heading straight for us, hoping for reinforcements. The captain spat at us, “Seven hells... Consider this a warning! Now go - all of you!” The wagon pulled away as the guards draw steel and joined the fray as our line of sight retreated, only slowing after the conflict was well-distanced.

The merchant let out a deep sigh, and I could tell he had been holding his breath. Mostly because I realised I had too. It’s always an odd feeling, having to remember how to breathe.

“You be careful 'round them Brass Blades, lass. Bastards’ll have the shirt off your back if they fancy it. Like common bandits, they are, only less honest.” I noted their uniform-style armour, and made a mental note that they must be a band of mercenaries in the area. Again, wherever this was. “We’ve got a long ride ahead, so you mind keepin’ me company?” He stuck a thumb towards the still-undisturbed twins. “Them young’uns don’t much care for conversation, see.” I nodded silently, preparing to keep sensitive information to myself until I could work out what was happening.

The man continued. “Brendt’s the name, an’ peddlin’s me trade.” He looked me up and down, with a critical eye that didn’t feel untoward, though I immediately became away of the absurdly short length of the skirt I found myself attired in.

“An’ judgin’ by your unusual garments, I’ll wager you’re one of them new adventurers.” That seemed plain enough, so I nodded. I could think of something to work into a story if I needed to protect my host’s identity. If I even had a host!

“I knew it! Goin’ wherever the win blows, seekin’ fortune an’ glory - now that’s what I call livin’! So long as you can avoid dyin’, I mean.” I nodded a little more knowledgeably this time, still trying to think of what to say without revealing too much; unwanted memories coming to mind of previous lives.

“What was it that first attracted you to it? Power? Glory? Findin’ your fortune?”

I couldn’t exactly say that I didn’t get a choice, having this life basically forced onto me by my untimely death; saved only by the igniting of my planeswalker spark, allowing my spirit to linger though my body was deceased, and seeking the freedom of exploration through what was seeming to be eternity. The merchant, Brendt, took my silence as reluctance and continued.

“Well, if you ain’t inclined to tell, I ain’t about to pry. We all have a secret or three, don’t we?” he said with a smile and a wink. I heaved a sigh of relief; I wouldn’t have to explain the Multiverse to another innocent bystander. I’d already gotten people I care about involved more than they should be in interplanar affairs.

“Just remember,” he continued, “there’s more important things than fortune an’ glory. Ain’t no profit in bein’ dead, an’ that’s a fact.” I held back an ironic chuckle. He didn’t need to know the truth of my existence. “By the by, is this your first trip to Ul’dah?” he asked, continuing the small talk. If he was trying to pry, he was doing a good job at hiding that intent; he seemed genuinely idly curious.

“Yes, it is. I’ve... heard so much.” I said, at the same time shocked and pleased to hear my own familiar voice come from my mouth. At least I could be honest with that; no need to explain I’d never heard of the place.

“It is? Well, let me give you the ins an’ outs of your destination.” He briefly detailed the power structure of the sultana and her Royalists, and the Syndicate with their Monetarists, and the Amalj’aa, the lizardfolk we had encountered on the way. Before long, we had sight of our apparent destination: a sprawling, walled city with rounded towers uniformly surrounding an impressive domed structure.

“Behold Ul’dah, jewel of Thanalan, where folk turn sand into gold!” Brendt exclaimed, making a sweeping gesture towards the city. I mentally added that to my understanding of the plane. Either this 'Thanalan' was the name of the plane, or simply a place within it.

Our wagon came to a halt on a well-worn path of stone that crossed the threshold of the walls, and a very small man with pointed ears pulled down the small set of steps attached to the wagon to allow us to exit. I’m only sure he was a man and not a child due to the facial hair. The twins finally responded to any stimulus, proving they weren’t dead or asleep, by standing and making their exit, all without saying a word or acknowledging anyone. Brendt allowed me to follow, pulling a small bag of coin to hand to what turned out to be the driver before approaching me as I took in the size of the walls. It very much reminded me of Arashin, the stronghold of the Abzan I had resided within during my time there, though this was more impressive.

“An’ here’s where we part ways, lass.” Brendt said, stretching his back out after the long ride. “I’m off to the markets to sell me wares. But here, I want you to have this - by way of thanks for puttin’ up with me prattle.” He reached into a pocket, producing a silver ring inlaid with a green gem.

“Oh no, I can’t accept this! Besides, it was nothing!” I tried to protest, but he was having none of it. He stepped away, folding his arms and shaking his head. “But I never even told you my name, and you’re giving me such a gift?”

Brendt smiled. “Here’s an idea: Become the sort of personage I can brag about havin’ met, an’ I’ll consider us square.” He gave a little wave and walked off towards the gate, leaving me in the heat, staring at the walls. I felt a twinge of guilt knowing I wouldn’t be here long. My worries deepened, as I hadn’t heard my host’s inner voice yet. Since Innistrad, I’d been pushed into a host body without my choice, but I’ve always heard in my head what it is they were wanting to do at the time, giving me a goal to work towards while I borrowed their form.

I brought the Mirror up again, and looked at my face once more. No matter which angle I looked, it was definitely me. Dispelling it, I tried one of my spiritual abilities, and attempted to temporarily dispossess this body. No such luck; it was like I was alive, firmly tethered body and soul. A mild panic came over me as I focused on picturing that little flame inside me, willing my spirit to planeswalk back to Ravnica. Surely Kolya and Caidi wouldn’t mind me changing bodies so soon. But again, nothing. I felt no drifting or fading like usual, no pull on my soul from the leylines, tethered by Nissa’s gift, or even to the resting place of my actual body, long-dead under an ironwood tree on my home plane of Melenas. I took a moment to practice the calming exercises Ji’maz had taught me during our sessions, stifling the rising panic to maintain a calm. Maybe I couldn’t planeswalk just yet; I’d heard of others needing time to recover after experiencing the strain of traversing the Blind Eternities, so maybe that was the case here. Or maybe this plane held onto planeswalkers like the Immortal Sun had, and I was stuck here. Either way, I couldn’t do much about it if I was busy losing my mind again. Once was enough for an eternity of lifetimes, and Kolya wasn’t here to help this time.

Taking a deep breath, I walked up the path towards the city of Ul’dah; my fate unclear.