Traveler

Several of the elders of Little Ala Mhigo, Wilred, his remaining friends, and Azlyn all sat in a wide circle, Gundobald waited for the group to settle down in their impromptu meeting before addressing Wilred. 

“Wilred, no more lies. Tell us everything.” 

The youngster had a bloodied lip from the battle, but he spoke clearly for all to hear. “I was outside with the others when he appeared—the masked stranger.” He looked down at his lap, where his hands laid on top of his legs. “I wanted so desperately to believe that we could raise ourselves from the squator that I never stopped to question his motives. But I should have known—there’s no solution, nothing we can do to change our lot. Our people are doomed to live and die like beasts...”

This caused the group to grow discordant, the thought of a masked stranger turning their commitment and community against themselves. 

Gundobald reigned in the chaos. “Silence.” When they settled, the elder looked to all of them. “Listen to me—Our home may be lost to us, but it takes more than stones and mortar to define who we are. No matter where we may be, Ala Mhigo lives on within us all.” He paused, letting his words sink in with the group. As a settle calmness wrapped them, Gundobald spoke. “It is for you to decide what to make of this legacy. But whatever you choose to do with your life, never forget that you owe it to this adventurer—an outsider.”

The group had now turned to Azlyn, their eyes regarding her with varying amounts of respect and appreciation. Wilred, who sat a person away from her, looked her squarely in the eye. He bowed his head after a long pause. His words wavered, as if he began to understand the consequences of his proposed future. “I-I won’t. I promise.” 

She was surprised by the sudden bow, and she lifted both of her hands up in front of her—waving them modestly. “Lift your head Wilred. I only wanted to help.” She dropped her head a moment, wondering what more she could have done. Could she have saved more of the youths if she had figured their plan out from before? 

Wilred nodded. “Thank you for saving me—And sorry I tried to kill you.” 

“Water under the bridge.” She waved it off with no concern. “I hope we can be friends.” 

The lad seemed taken back by the proposal, but nodded. “Y-yeah. You always have friends here in Little Ala Mhigo.” 

She grinned back to him, a youthful cheeky grin to him. 

“My thanks to you as well, friend.” Gundobald replied calmly. “It gives us hope to know that there are kind souls such as you out there. Little Ala Mhigo may not have much in the way of comfort, but you will always be welcome here.” 

With his blessing, the rest of the elders and fellow members of their circle agreed. The two sitting beside her clapped her on her back to welcome her. 

“Th-thank you very much.” Azlyn leaned her upper body forward, performing a bow to them all. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” 

A group of Ala Mhigan women appeared with several large crock pots. The circle of elders opened the circle as they began setting up several campfires in the circle of their large gathering. A few young boys, maybe around five or six years old were helping their mothers with the food. 

Gundobald nodded. “Join us for lunch friend, we have much to be thankful for—and many of whom we must remember.” 

The group grew somber, after hearing from Wilred over eleven of their adolescents had perished in Zanr’ak. They offered their moment of silence, giving prayers to Rhalgr to welcome them to the halls of his realm. The bubbling of their meal in progress, Azlyn watched the Ala Mhigans in their element. They were chatting animatedly amongst themselves, discussing better ways to hunt the local beasts nearby. They were talking about the future aspects of the Ala Mhigan Resistance.

The youths were gathered around her in a smaller circle talking about miscellaneous topics on her adventures. Wilred was quiet in this exchange, however he listened with great intent. Azlyn was in the middle of explaining her fight with Kujata, the Mountain when Gundobald approached. “—My two companions, Solkwyb and Broenbhar, were keeping the beast’s group at bay. With my axe, I carved into his hide as much as I could. It wasn’t until I was cornered to a tree when—Oh, Gundobald, is there something you need?” 

She could tell the teens were hanging on her words until she was drawn away. They anxiously were waiting to hear the tale end of the story. 

“The youths seem eager to hear the end of your tale.” He sat upon the ground, watching all of their faces animate. Before Azlyn could explain, they were already telling him about the beginning of the story. How the Mountain had taken over the La Noscea areas in Vylbrand and how Azlyn made a promise to a child to avenge his parents. 

When they perfectly summarized the story up to the point she stopped at, Azlyn continued. A light smile played on her lips. She regaled them how she jumped up into the tree, jumping out from the trees thick branches as the Auroch charged into the trunk to shake her out. She  mentioned how tired it was, from all the battles it had been up until it faced off against her—and how she ended a long, vengeful feud between a small child and itself with the blade of her axe. 

As she concluded her tale, the Ala Mhigans began passing out bowls of warm stew to everyone. Azlyn was surprised when a bowl was graced into her hands, and stared down at it with mild surprise. With everyone eating their food, Azlyn enjoyed the welcome meal with peace. 

Gundobald looked to her. “Are you leaving after this?” 

Azlyn nodded. “I think so. I don’t think our masked stranger will appear again. If I know their patterns—they like to watch from the sidelines. I think they know a losing battle when they see one.” She sighed. “I feel like I’m three steps behind him—I just wish I knew how to get ahead.” 

The Elder placed his utensil back into his bowl, thinking. “Would that we had more information to offer, but what Wilred told you is the extent of our knowledge of the masked stranger.” 

She smiled sadly. “Back to square one.” 

Gundobald looked to her now, his eyes held a steady gaze. “Left unchecked, that man will bring about great pain and suffering. I pray that you’ll find and put a swift end to that creature—for the sake of the young ones who died by his poisoned words.” 

“I will. I promise.” Azlyn gave him the same promise she gave to the many people she’d encountered before—a vow of hope and strength to avenge and bring a sense of relief back to the people in Little Ala Mhigo. 

Gundobald nodded, and left her side to go sit with his fellows. Many of the youths had already run off the food their ate, moving to perform a make believe version of the fight against the Mountain. Azlyn chuckled at their antics, seeing life return to this small community. 

She returned her empty bowl of food back to the rinsing racks, washing the bowls with the available commodities. The ones who prepared the lunch thanked her for cleaning up, and then Azlyn found herself wondering what she should do now. She reached up to her linkpear. 

“Minfillia.” 

A familiar perky voice that belonged to the Antecedent filled her ear. “It’s good to hear from you Azlyn! I’m reliably informed that your investigation took you from Quarrymill to Little Ala Mhigo! So tell me, were you able to learn aught of Lahabrea?” 

Azlyn leaned back against wall. “He’s like water that slips through the cracks. I missed the chance to catch him—however I was able to prevent some of his plans in Little Ala Mhigo.” She sighed, “He passed the knowledge of summoning a primal to the youngsters in Little Ala Mhigo. He told them that if they summoned Rhalgr, they could fight back against the Empire. He told them of the crystal cache located in Zanr’ak—and convinced the teens to steal them.” 

Minfillia sounded worried over the line. “This is precisely the kind of deception the Ascians would employ. While many of the ilms that all the land can be attributed to the Calamity, some are being brought about by a malign will.” She gave pause. “We must needs delve deeper into this, while things remain quiet on the primal front.” 

The Au Ra agreed. Given the time, they could expend resources to the Ascian research. Although she hoped to get a bit of rest for herself. Like a night of sleep on a bed. “If you find out anything more, give me a buzz. I’ll be heading to Limsa Lominsa to check on a couple things.” 

“I’ll be sure to do so.” Minfillia cut the linkpearl call, giving Azlyn the chance to give one last glance to the western campsite of Little Ala Mhigo. She gave a small nod, before returning to Limsa Lominsa’s aetheryte plaza. A change of scenery, a vast blue ocean that spanned wide into the far reaches of the realm. A bustling crowd of the Lominsans ran about as their time allowed, a full day still ahead of them. 

She welcomed the smell of salt in the air, and made her way to the Bulwark Hull. She decided it had been quite a while since she’d last seen Baderon, and his old bar stand in the  Drowning Wench. Ryssfloh was running patrols when she ran by, and gave him a quick wave. He waved back, a smile on his face. She ran inside, taking the crow’s lift up to the bar, waving to a few familiar faces in the bar. Niniya sat in her favorite location, a table behind a pillar, her hood still covering her face. 

Azlyn walked to the bar, placing her traveling satchel on the unusually empty bar. Baderon wasn’t anywhere in sight, so she busied herself with her next letter home. While she just sent her last letter to Sharlayan, she decided to log what had already happened from last she left off. It would give her a head start on next week’s letter. 

Maybe five minutes had gone by, before a glass slid over to her. She looked to see it empty and then up to the bartender standing there with his arms crossed. His same bandana wrapped around the top of his head, the same dark blue tunic. “What’ll ye ‘ave adven—by the navigator—I’d forgotten what’d ye look like. Azlyn, tis good to see ye.” He was already bringing out a bottle of mead from under his counter, and Azlyn slipped the glass further away from his offered drink.

“I’ll pass on day drinking Baderon, but I did want to stop in and say hi.” She grinned. “It’s been over a month or so since I last left.” 

He gave her a smirk. “Your days as a shiny ‘ero is making ye a goody good.” He waved the bottle widening his smirk. “Back in the day, good ol’ Azlyn would down a cup of this no problem.” 

In resignation, she slowly pushed the glass over to him to pour her a glass. He chortled, pouring her a helping portion of that horrid mead that he forced upon her—and continued until it was at the brim of the glass. She could feel the corner of her lips twitch. “Baderon, I think I’m beginning to see you’re a bit mad at me for not visiting sooner.” 

“Mad? Never. Why would I be mad at the Slayer of Ifrit? Our Bloody Princess of the Sea?” His face was unreadable, as he placed the bottle on the bar. He made no indication to put it back under the bar. “Drink.”

There wasn’t any room to decline him, so lifting the glass up gingerly she gulped half the glass. The hard taste of liquor hit her, and then placed the glass back down. Baderon reached over to the bottle, refilling the glass to the brim. 

“Y-you’re really mad.” Azlyn choked back the alcohol. She stared at the full glass once more with grimace. “O-okay. I was wrong, I promise to visit more often.” 

He didn’t say anything, only motioned for her to finish her drink. The glass shouldn’t have been as intimidating as it was—she’d faced terrors bigger than that—and so with a heavy reluctance—she lifted the drink back up and slammed the entire glass back. On the last gulp she started to choke. 

Upon finishing the glass Baderon finally grinned. His face relaxed as he removed the horrid drink from view. “I can’t stay mad at ye fer long. Welcome home ye small goofball.” 

She gave him a relieved smile. “It’s good to be back.” Given the amount of alcohol she swallowed, she could already feel the heat swell in her chest, the burning sensation in her throat as it went down. Her head felt a bit woozy, as if she were experiencing a buzz. “Anything exciting happen while I’ve been running around Eorzea?” 

Baderon took her glass away from her, and cleaned the glass behind the bar. “The only thing exciting in these parts are when yer in town. Heard from a fella ye suck at fishin’.” 

Azlyn widened her eyes. “How’d you learn about that? There were like—what—twenty some people on that vessel!” 

The proprietor smirked to her, pointing at her face. “People recognize the face of their princess—and the Slayer of Ifrit on top of that. Did ye know that a book was written about ye?” He chuckled, reaching under the counter to pull out a hard-bound leather book. She stared at the familiar cover in horror. 

“You didn’t buy that.” Azlyn gaped. 

He nodded. “An’ ‘ow am I supposed to learn about yer recent exploits! Now, are ye gonna sign me book, or does Ol’ Baderon ‘ave to beg ye?” 

Azlyn brought her pen from her journal, giving him a leveled look. She didn’t bother looking inside the cover she signed haphazardly. When she finished scrawling her signature, she closed the book and slid it back to him. “I better not see that out here while you’re working Baderon, or I’ll find some Auroch in the plains to skewer it myself.” 

Baderon chuckled loudly, placing the book under his counter and out of her sight. “Ye got yerself a deal.” He looked to the people swarming the Drowning Wench, and noted the new faces in his bar. “Because of ye, Limsa Lominsa has seen quite a few new faces of Auri. Miounne and Momodi ‘ave also noted a similar trend in their areas. Inspired by their fellow Auri no doubt.” He pointed to her. “Yer bringin’ in new businesses and adventurers to our side of the world—people wantin’ to make their lots in life.” 

This did surprise her. “More Auri?” She paused in her surprise, “I hope they have better chances traveling and making ends meet in Eorzea. But the city-states must be bursting at the seams with all the rest of the displaced folk.” Azlyn tapped her finger statically on the wooden bar. “If my actions can stir the hearts of those who had lost all hope, then I guess I’m doing something right.”

Baderon noticed her concern on her face, and her tone didn’t seem to match what she was saying near the end. “I feel there’s a ‘But’ in there.” He leaned his arm up on the counter, giving her close regard.

She nodded. “You’re right.” Azlyn looked to see a pair of Auri walking by. One of them male, the other female. They were talking with the Levequest appointer for Limsa Lominsa—endless piles of work for those who wanted it. Any adventurer’s dream. She watched them excitedly run off after picking up some work, before she commented.

“I met a fresh group of adventurers when we first got sent into Sastasha Seagrot. Unfortunately, one of them died in another campaign, and it caused the group to go their separate ways.” She thought back to Edda telling her that she’d retrain. “The healer girl was distraught—and rightly so; After all, it was her fiancé that died. Yet she came to me and said I inspired her to keep going because that’s what inspired her fiancé. She said she was going back home where she would retrain.” For some strange reason, she had a sour taste in her mouth—but she chalked it up to the mead she pounded back. “I guess I’m not quite sure how I feel about being indirectly responsible for people’s choices.”

Baderon quietly listened to her ramblings—she didn’t vent often to others, so it was a rare oddity for her to open the way she was doing. Probably also another effect of the alcohol. “Ye’re not responsible fer what others choose fer themselves. Don’t suppose ye’ve been worryin’ too hard on it. And that fiancé—was it a brutish Hyur fellow, with a gruff look in his eye?”

“Avere. Yes. And Edda.” Azlyn confirmed the identity, remembering that they started out in Limsa Lominsa for their first adventuring party. She recalled Avere yelling something about Baderon talking to them in front of Sastasha.

“’Fraid somethin’ ‘ad ‘appened when they stopped showin’ up a while back. There’s always tragedies mixed in with the prodigies.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Look ‘ere Azlyn, yer goin’ to run into all type o’ folks’ who will like ye, or hate ye. It’s all a matter o’ ‘ow ye react and move past somethin’ like that. Take it from me. Ye can’t please everyone, and ye shouldn’t be bogged down by that stupid shite. And if ye feel bad, just remember the dead for what they were. Bury ‘em in yer heart if ye ‘ave to—but yer movin’ up in the realm. Yer doing things that many folks would turn tail and run away.” He tried to encourage her, a rousing speech given his occupation.

Azlyn smiled back in response. “There’s a lot of people buried deep in my heart. Way too many.” She clenched the front of her blue collared shirt, just above her heart. She thought to all the tempered in Ul’dah that were put to death. She thought of the adventurers like Avere who died way too young. “But thank you. I’ll remember what you said.” Azlyn punched her fist into her palm after that. Her expression turned into determination as she vowed. “Alright, I can’t sit here all-day wallowing in drinks. I’ll be sure to come by when time allows.”

Baderon chuckled darkly. “Better be less than a month’s time, or we’re goin’ to be drinkin’ an entire bottle’s worth.”

She took that threat very seriously. “I’ll make it my mission to report in once a week.” She saluted to him.

He gestured up to the upper floor where the inn rooms were located. “Ye still have access to yer room. Still free, and open for ye whenever ye need.”

Azlyn laughed. “I’m surprised you still have that room open for me! I thought after I left Limsa Lominsa to run around Eorzea, the free room would be taken away. If I knew, I wouldn’t have stayed out camping overnight!”

Baderon crossed his arms as he looked down to her. His expression looked miffed by what she just insinuated. “Ye think I’d revoke yer access to yer room? Hells no. It’s yer place to sleep whenever ye need. Ol’ Baderon takes care o’ his people. Yer not an exception to that.” He nodded sternly. “Yer breakin’ yer ol’ man’s ‘eart.”

She stood up from her seat and placed her hands on her hips; a playful smirk on her lips. “You sure that’s not the ale giving you heartburn?”

He blinked slowly. “…Maybe that’s why it’s been burnin’ o’ late.” He lifted a hand to scratch his beard. “Ahh—who cares. Go about yer business child. I got work to do.”

She then gestured to his empty bar rail. “Work? With this empty bar?” She could see him angrily huff at her teasing, but he had a cocky side grin plastered on his face. He shooed her away, flapping a towel at her to get off his counter.

“Get outta here ya brat.”

“See ya Ol’ Baderon.”

He yelled at her retreating away. “Only Ol’ Baderon can call ‘imself Ol’!”

She ran, retreating from the bar with a bit of laughter. The last thing she needed was Baderon to pull out something to toss at her on her way out. She ran out the Drowned Wench heading toward the outsider Upper Decks of Limsa Lominsa. She walked the path with no clear destination in mind, just hoping to get a bit of relaxation as she walked around the boardwalks, the sounds of lapping water, sailors and merchants bringing in and out the cargo, the call of the seagulls flying above looking for food to eat. She found herself back at the Anchor’s Yard, where she recently had given K’lyhia her new grimoire from the guildmaster.

She walked over to the edge of the yard, hopping up on the wall to sit down. She let her feet dangle over the side and stared out over the docks spanning far below her. There were many vessels preparing to dock, and in the distance, she could see one of the few ocean fishing expeditions taking off for one of the afternoons run.

“I calculated with an 86.3% chance that I could locate you around the Upper Deck, given the egregious amount of work you do outside of Limsa Lominsa. The chances were significantly lower than I had hoped. However, I daresay you’ve met my expectations wonderfully!”

Azlyn looked over her shoulder to see K’lyhia approaching her from behind. She pressed upon the bridge of her glasses to push them up her nose. “K’lyhia, this is a welcome surprise.” The Miqo’te foreseer stopped shy from where she was sitting to overlook the grand yard of Limsa Lominsa’s dock. She smiled happily. “How are you doing? It’s not every day the foreseer seeks me out.”

Foreseer K’lyhia grinned, lifting her index finger to point directly to her. “In order for my plans to succeed, I must have you present. Come, we’re going to Costa Del Sol.” She waited for Azlyn to stand up from her place on the wall, and hop back down on the upper deck. K’lyhia then started to explain her process. “The Yellowjackets called Mealvaan’s Gate to report that Doesmaga has been sighted by the Bloodshore. There has also been some intelligence gathered that he means to sail East for a lengthy period. We can’t let him slip away, so we’re going to settle the score—as it was.” She patted the book on her waist belt for comfort. “This plan will only work if you’re apart of it. Please help us Azlyn.”

Azlyn nodded. “You had me at ‘In order for my plans to succeed’.” She mimicked the girl’s tone perfectly.  “Alright, what will be the quickest route to Costa Del Sol. Shall we take a boat over?”

K’lyhia nodded back. “It will be quickest to travel by ship, and from there you’ll need to find a fisherman by the name of Rhytzirn.”

The Au Ra thought of her grimoire, summoning it from her aetherial pocket of wonder, and smiled. “Lead on Foreseer. I’ll gladly follow.” The pair walked through the upper deck, finding the crystal by the Aftcastle. The young miqo’te with the pink hair and purple eyes turned to Azlyn. “Go to the fishermen’s guild, and meet me by the ferry skipper.” She nodded, watching the girl disappear in the aether current. Azlyn reached out next, thinking of the small aetheryte by the fisher’s guild. When the connection stabilized, she felt herself get whisked away in the flow.

When she opened her eyes, her senses were assaulted by the sight and smell of fish. It had been like that the first time she’d walked these decks on her first day—and she was glad to see it hadn’t changed much. She looked over to the ferry skipper that K’lyhia mentioned in the Upper Deck. He was preparing his ship while K’lyhia read through her grimoire waiting for her arrival.

Azlyn approached with a knowing smile. “All prepared?”

K’lyhia nodded. “Indeed. Have you been to Eastern La Noscea before?”

The Au Ra shook her head, letting her curly white and black tipped hair shake with her. “I’ve seen it from afar on one of the Ocean fishing trips, but I haven’t actually been to Eastern La Noscea.”

The Foreseer took her words in account. “Perfect, then we’ll have to get you access to their aetheryte first and foremost. Then we’ll set into motion our plans for success.” The ferry skipper called them both over, directing them to sit on the benches provided before shoving off from Limsa Lominsa. No one else had come aboard, so it was just the pair heading eastward.

The boat ride took about forty minutes, having to follow the coastline around Vylbrand. Azlyn took the time to study on her magicks, and K’lyhia imparted to her a new set of tactical support spells she could use in battle. It was a thorough lesson, teaching her the fundamentals of truly strategizing the battlefield, and controlling the flow of battle.

She still had much to learn, but a short trip such as this one did not give her enough time to learn it all.