Traveler

She decide to check out what Baderon had to offer for breakfast, making her way into the Drowned Wench with her traveling bag. She lowered the satchel in the space between her feet and the chair, looking bright eyed at a tired Baderon. 

“Do you ever sleep?” Azlyn asked curiously, looking at him and his dark circles under his eyes. 

“Good morning to ye too.” He muttered, wiping his face with his hand. “Ye smell like yer pushing them flo’er’s out o’ the ground.”

Azlyn chuckled, “Thanks. Do you serve breakfast or do I have to wander?”

Baderon rolled his eyes, “Ale tickle your fancy?” Then he leaned back in thought. “I suppose ye could enjoy some o’ that umbrella’s from yesterday—thats about all I got.” He smirked at her vehement refusal. “No? Ahh, we’ll them cooks probably got some fresh baked goods, best be off before they sell out.” 

She nodded, bounding off to the culinary guild. “Thanks!”

Before she got out of earshot, Baderon called out to her. “When yer done get back over here! I got something that might interest ye.” Azlyn wondered what it could be, also knowing that she had to go to the Arcanist’s Guild to meet Thubyrgeim also. 

Walking in the brisk cool morning air, she caught the scent of the sea salt fluttering in the breeze. She paused by the end of the wall, looking out into the distance at the crystal blue water beyond. Boats of all sizes were moving in different directions, some slow, others faster. She smiled.

As she continued in her trek to find food, she finally found the destination: The Bismarck that she was looking for. They had several tables near the side to seat at, and a waiter came up to ask what you’d like. Azlyn waited for her turn in line, luckily it hadn’t grown too long since it was still early enough. She waited for less than ten minutes, chatting with a couple of people in front of her before they were prematurely summoned to their seats. She waved goodbye and patiently waited. 

“Table for 1?” A Hyur male approached her, his uniform was a simple white chef’s jacket and pants. He also had a red handkerchief wrapped around his neck. 

Azlyn smiled, raising her hand to indicate that was her. The waiter smiled at her, gesturing for her to follow him. They walked in the heart of the guild, he took some of their walk to explain what they did as a guild and the goal behind culinary cuisine. 

Remembering what Brennan told her when she initially arrived, she thought about possibly joining one of the crafting guilds after she ate. When she was sat down, she was given a menu for breakfast. They had some seafood options, egg omelets, different types of beverages, breads, and sweets. She wasn’t sure what would be good, since it all looked pretty great—and smelled even better. 

The waiter came by, “have you decided on anything miss?”

She pointed to the hot cakes. “I guess two of those with a side of bacon and eggs?”

He nodded, taking her menu from her. He smiled, “An excellent choice, they will be out in five to ten minutes.” He bowed to her before exiting back into the guild.

She pulled out her book that Thubyrgeim wanted to her read, and leisurely read in peace. Suddenly she heard the click of shoes coming up to her table. She looked over, and found herself down to a familiar cloaked Lalafell. Exasperated, Azlyn slowly closed her book. “Niniya.”

The Lalafell wagged her finger up and down, as if she was happy to even be remembered. “The one and only! How is your day going?”

Azlyn nodded, feeling a bit on edge with her standing so close. This was definitely something she found fishy and deceptive. “You know, I found this morning to be quite relaxing. What can I do for you Niniya?”

Niniya gasped as if she had been hurt by her bluntness. “I came by to say hi to a friend, am I so distrustful.”

Azlyn didn’t miss a beat. “Yup.”

She snapped her fingers as if caught. “Aw shucks you got me, well never mind that—I have a present for you!” Niniya handed her a paper origami shaped like a boat. “I felt bad with sending you out on those bogus tasks—but I promise, I won’t do that anymore!” She crossed an X over her heart to add to the effect. 

Reluctantly, Azlyn accepted the boat and forced a smile. “Thank you Niniya. It’s alright, you were just teaching me some hard lessons. Better to learn of it now, right?” 

Niniya nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Most definitely, well I have to go—have a great day adventurer!” And she was gone.

Azlyn wondered why she was in such a rush, placing down the paper boat onto the table. It was nicely made, despite the wrinkles and wrong flips here and there. Shortly after her food came up, and she was contented with a full stomach. She opened her book, waiting for her waiter to come back for her bill.

He approached her with a smile. “All done Miss?”

She nodded. “Thank you very much, it was very delicious.”

“I’m glad to hear that—and I have to say I’m amazed at your generosity for your friends. Offering to pay their bills— I wish I had friends like that.”

Azlyn widened her eyes. When did she say anything about footing someone else’s bill? And what friend?

He seemed to catch her surprise, also a little alarmed. “She said you accepted it, isn’t that it right there?”

He was pointing to the paper boat laying on its side. 

She dropped her book she was holding onto the table with a clatter, before she undid the paper folds. Inside she found a long bill for quite a bit of food and drink. She crushed the ticket in her hand as she cursed mentally. 

“Miss?”

Azlyn heavily sighed, pulling out her coinpurse to see if she had enough. Lucky for her all those jobs from yesterday gave her some extra coin—but now—she silently weeped as she pulled out the amount of money for the bills, and tipped the waiter as well.

So much for eating out anymore. Sensing something was amiss, the waiter bit his lip. “If—sorry—I don’t mean to pry—if you’re looking for a way to make money I can introduce you to our guild master—we’re short on staff and need a few hands.”

Her coinpurse was crying, so with a last bit of dignity, she accepted the job. “Yes please—I’ll do anything—literally anything.” She clarified, her financial funds counted on it.

“She wasn’t a friend—was she?” He guessed, feeling bad. 

“Nope.”

They both sighed. “Well, come on in, I’ll introduce you to Lyngsath.”

He brought her in, and then showed her up the stairs. It led up to a platform that overlooked the entire kitchen. “Guild master Lyngsath, I brought you a potential candidate.”

The man standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest turned. He was tall, taller than a typical Roegabyn and wore the same uniform as the waiter. The only difference was his tall chef hat, and yellow ascot he wore around his neck, and his big white fluffy oven mitts. Azlyn looked up at him wondering if he was going to snap her in two with his fiery glare. 

“Bah! What’s an underfed whelp like you know ‘bout cookin’? Judging by them scrawny arms of yers ye’d struggle to lift a spoon, much less a skillet.” Azlyn froze, feeling the pressure under his watchful eye, until he loosened up and chortled loudly. His laughter echoed in the guild. “I jest, I jest—it doesn’t take muscle to be a culinarian. ‘Ell’s it doesn’t even take talent—least not on its own.”

Azlyn relaxed, she let the air finally release from her lungs. “I heard you’re looking for some help?”

He nodded. “Aye, but what I really need is, more n’ ‘nythin’ else, a good cook who has passion. If ye got that, there ain’t nothin’ ye can’t achieve. So, how’s about it? Ye got passion lass?”

She thought so, so she nodded her head. 

Lyngsath smiled broadly, he turned to stretch his arms out to showcase the entire floor of cooks below him. “That’s the spirit we need! Aye, yer passion for culinary arts is plain to see!”

She had to wonder if it was her passion for money that he was seeing, but she wasn’t going to correct him. Passion was passion.

He continued to tell her about passion, and cooking, while the waiter who brought her in gave a thumbs up and escaped when he could. 

“Ye’ll be needing every bit o’ passion if ye want to become a master culinarian. Why, if mastery was a twelve-course dinner, I’d ‘ardly ‘ave finished the soup. Make no mistake, our trade’s as tough as old mutton, an’ passion’s the only thing what gets us through the grisly bits. But enough talk—what do ye call yerself?”

“I’m Azlyn,” she reached her hand out to shake his outstretched mitt. Despite how soft the mitt was, she could tell he also had a firm handshake. Smiling she looked up to the guild master.

“I know I jested about her scrawny arms, but let’s see if ye can hold a skillet, eh?” He walked over to the counter to his left, digging into the drawers to pull out a skillet that had seen better days. “Ahh, still good. Go ‘head an’ use this fella while yer here. We’ll get ye a uniform soon enough.” And that was how Azlyn became a culinarian working several hours a day in the Bismarck. 

By the time she was able to take off her apron and mitts, it was about the middle of the morning, not as early as she would have liked it to be, but Thubyrgeim didn’t give her a time beside morning. She walked up the upper deck until she found the back spiraling case that led to where the Arcanist’s guild was located. When she entered, she found the guild master attending to a bookshelf. 

“Good morning!” Azlyn appeared, smiling a big smile. She was glad to not have to think about Niniya. 

“Ah—the smell of sweets—you were at the Bismarck?” The guild master guessed.

“Yes—I thought breakfast would be good.” Azlyn reasoned.

“Still are you eating well? An empty stomach distracts the mind and leads to hurried judgment. I must oft remind my Arcanist’s to take meals, so entranced they become in their studies.” The guild master nodded in approval.

“I eat three square meals when I’m able. Or when money permits.” She scratched her cheek. She still couldn’t get past getting swindled by that Lalafell.

“I see you are conscious of your food as you are about your money. Two great traits to see in a budding Arcanist. Now, let’s get to the heart of the matter. Can you please summon a carbuncle for me?”

Azlyn opened her grimoire, and simply drawn out the formulae she perfected while running around yesterday. A bright blue-teal colored carbuncle manifested next to Azlyn, its shiny coat and twin tails perked in excitement. Thubyrgeim seemed pleased.

“Excellent! Good coat of quality, excitement for its master, you are making an excellent companion to your carbuncle. Good, good, now to further assess your skill I would like you defeat some foes in Lower La Noscea. Three wild dodos and three tiny mandragoras. Watch carefully the behavior of your opponents, formulate a proper strategy, and utilize your arcane entity to its fullest potential. Make sure to arrive back here no later than high noon!” 

If she needed to be back by high noon, she would have to leave now and dart to the place the guild master presented. She bowed courteously, and then darted out the door and to the crystal. She was going to need the use of teleportation to make the timing work. She also had to check in with Baderon, but he could wait until after her trial.

She teleported herself to Tempest Gate, only made accessible to those who attuned to all the crystals in town, and made a mad dash to the cliff side. She remembered where the tiny mandragoras were, having past by their nest by chance while traversing, but the wild dodos would be another matter entirely. Her carbuncle jumped into action, seeing three clustered together in a patch of grass—they seemed to be chittering amongst each other—that was until the emerald carbuncle came head first into the pack, head butting one to death. The other two tried to run, but Azlyn had stopped their retreat with a quick spell of miasma on the grass. The poison blocked their path of escape, and they were only left with the option of facing Azlyn or the carbuncle. One decided to swing its leafy exterior at Azlyn, but she anticipated that attack right away, she dodged to the right, keeping the area confined so her carbuncle could flick its tail at both targets. They both got slammed with a wind attack that knocked them head first into the miasma. The battle had been won before she even set her carbuncle upon them.

Now for the dodos. She paced the pasture, until thoughts of yesterday filled her head. She had seen them fat chickens before! They were by the Eyes where Ancreta was stationed! She ran in that direction, moving through the rolling hills and bypassing the rivers when she could. Ancreta and the Yellowjackets nearby saw her dart past them with a quick hand wave and then started to cast several ruin’s in a row. Her carbuncle started jumping into the fray as well, hitting the dodos one by one. After the third dropped, Azlyn sighed in relief. She collected what she could harvest from the birds, grabbing the meat of them and stowing them in her bag. Maybe the kitchen would pay for the meat she brought in? Or she could use it as a means of practicing on her own. In either event, she was done with her trial and she needed to get back as soon as she could. The sun was almost at high noon. She wiped her forehead of the sweat before activating her teleport spell back to town. 

It was this moment that she learned those crystals around town were little blessings in disguise. Having to teleport between places served for faster travel, and better convenience. However that last main teleport into town hurt her pocket a bit—but time was of the essence. She ran from the aethernet crystal inside the guild with her carbuncle in tow. 

“Done!”

Thubyrgeim chuckled at her breathing slightly out of breath. “Excellent, now that you’re coordination with your carbuncle is going well, I’d like to try another practical exam. Our work at Mealvaan’s Gate requires us to inspect and record the contents of incoming cargo. To simulate such a task, I have had several crates transported to the cliff south of the Zephyr Gate. I want you to examine those crates, the return the inspected cargo here to me.” 

Azlyn understood the instructions, she’d done similar tasks for the Students of Baldesion whenever a shipment came in. “It’s too bad one can’t trust everyone to be honest.” 

“You would be surprised at the depths to which some merchants will sink to deter our custom agents from performing thorough investigations. False bottoms, rotting foodstuff, flesh eating vile-kin. I suggest you be prepared for any eventuality.”

She was released out to complete her exam, and she ran over to the crystal outside the guild. Reaching her hand out to the blue hue of the light, she envisioned the Zepher Gate, and teleported. This was a gate she hadn’t traversed, as it was in the middle of La Noscea. Thus been dubbed Middle La Noscea. She saw the steep cliffs that dropped down, and happened to spy some crates at the very bottom. Making her way around the top, she found a steep decline and slowly made her way. Azlyn was careful not to lose her footing, as one false step could send her tumbling out in the ocean. 

Safely, she made it to the bottom with all fingers and toes attached. She turned to the crates in question. She examined the smaller box, seeing some silks and cotton rolls of fabric. Taking note, she then turned to the bigger crate. She inspected the inside, and was startled when two giant tree slugs burst out from the box. The thick mucous oozed from underneath the slug, and corroded the wood. 

Her carbuncle jumped into action to defend her, as she flipped herself back. She hadn’t anticipated needing being so nimble as a mage, but she was proven wrong in this case. While her carbuncle was dealing with one on the north side, she had to contend with the one oozing its way over. Her back was to the cliff, and she needed to place herself in a better position to turn the tides. She didn’t bother pulling her back out, deciding a full frontal charge would have to work. It lurched forward, and she front flipped over it, using her hands to push off the back of the creature. 

She landed with both feet together, as she now had her back to the cargo boxes. Her hands were stinging from the poison on its skin, but she’d have to let it sting. Snapping her grimoire open, all her offensive formulae spells went off in three second intervals. By the time her slug was salted into mush, her carbuncle had windswept that slug into tiny chunks. She collected what materials she could, and then turned around to head back, only to find someone hiding in the grass—face in a book. Tilting her head in confusion, Azlyn walked over slowly.

Upon the crunch of her footfalls, the young woman disclaimed behind her book. “I am not a threat! Pray ignore my presence for the present and allow me a moment to cognate.”

Azlyn waited for the young lady to stand, her blue robes stopped short over his thighs, with comfortable leggings and boots. The front of her dress had two white stripes, and a red zipper running vertically down the middle of the robe. Even from where she stood she could see the pinkish-white ears and a long pinkish-white tail. Her book still obscured her face as she raised her hand, pointing one finger to the sky.  She postulated, “The reaction to my sudden appearance was within expected parameters. But I must admit I did not expect so proficient a performance against the enemies set against you!”

Azlyn called away her creature, slowly walking over to figure out who she was. Her carbuncle blinked out from existence, and she closed her grimoire. “Thanks?”

But before she could ask anything more, she was immediately interrupted. 

“Yet, effective though your tactics were, I spied much room for improvement. As I watched you battle, the wheels in my head whirled into motion, as they are wont to do, inventing other possible strategies you might have employed.” 

Azlyn shook her head, she started to wonder if some people in this region were born to be rude, or just liked to hear themselves talk. She digressed, crossing her arms. “I admit it wasn’t the best job, bu—“

“Let’s see... Taking into account your current level of ability, factoring in the aetheric constant, multiplying by the number of opponents, then applying your tactics to other potential combat scenarios...Oh dear. My calculations indicate failure upon encountering threat level 9,785.” She slammed her book closed, and finally turned to Azlyn. 

The girl had a pair of glasses on her face, and two pinkish white braids that framed both sides of her face. She seemed quite concerned. 

“That’s a fairly high number stranger.” Azlyn replied, with a confused face. How does one get to a number like that off of her recent combat? “Any way to—uh—lower the chance of future failures?” 

The Miqo’te smiled at her warmly, “We’ll have to see what we can do about that! Though the opportune window to do so has passed, I would nevertheless introduce myself. I am K’lyhia, a Mealvaan’s Gate assessor.” It was at this point the Au Ra understood why she was there—she was watching her. Probably under Thubyrgeim’s order. 

“Let me guess, the Guildmaster sent you to watch me?” 

K’lyhia nodded enthusiastically. “Interim Guildmaster Thubyrgeim elected me to oversee your training, and provide any necessary guidance and instruction in the field of arcanima. From what I have observed thus far, you have an admirable grasp of the fundamentals. I do, however, wish to confirm one small detail. Regarding your choice of arcane geometries, what factor most influences your actions during battle?” 

After her clear criticism, she provided Azlyn with a question to answer right off the bat. Unsure, of the right answer, she said. “Whatever feels right in that moment—My parents always told me that I should proactively look for opportunities and seize them when able.”

K’lyhia clapped her hands together, as if pleased by her answer. “Aha! Just as I predicted. And now I have the final element needed to perform another calculation. Hmmm, the probability of you becoming an arcanist of note is—90% Give or take half a percent. The certainty is quite high. After all—I only know of one other practitioner who responded to my question similarly. Although, they didn’t mention their parents—but that’s beside the point!”  

Azlyn asked, “and who was that?” 

Explaining, the Miqo’te spell caster gestured to her book. “It was the man who bestowed upon me this grimoire— the Guildmaster himself!”

“He sounds like someone who admire greatly.” The Au Ra complimented, smiling softly. She recalled similar bouts of devotion from several Sharlayan’s back home. Most notably would be those students that admired Archon Louisoix and Archon Baldesion. 

She nodded, “Yes—he’s always three steps ahead—and while our inscrutable leader is on an indefinite leave of absence, he did leave us with his most notorious saying to date: ‘Strategy is a tool used to manipulate’s one situation into the desired reality’. And that is why I was thoroughly impressed when you shifted the battle previously before. The way you flipped over the slug—my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets.” 

Azlyn chuckled, she showed her hands for K’lyhia to see. “But I paid for it with some acid burns in the process.” 

K’lyhia smiled, “But that’s why I’m here! To guide you so you don’t only have one option left to resort to. No matter how gifted you and I might be, however, the instantaneous manipulation of reality that might cause us to suddenly become mighty Arcanist’s is beyond our present abilities. Discipline and experience is the finest strategy in this case.”

It was this that caused Azlyn to nod. This was a necessary component to all types of battle, not just arcanima. “I understand—what do you suggest I work on and refine? I’ll make sure to do the guild proud.” She clenched her fist, raising it in the air to show her determination. 

“I guess continue refining your aptitude with Carbuncle. Mastery with an arcane entity will greatly improve your success as a wielder of arcanima. That should be a good start—but this should be a good place to end for today. Pray return directly to the guild—I believe Mistress Thubyrgeim is awaiting some inspected cargo.” She turned to walk down the plains beyond Zepher Gate further in Middle La Noscea, Azlyn followed her up the cliff, but noticed her change paths at the fork in the road. 

“You’re not heading back to town?” Azlyn asked? 

K’lyhia shook her head. “I’m off to the fields, of course! The tactics I reasoned out earlier must be attempted in real-life scenarios. Theory is all well and good, but there is no substitute for actual combat. We will meet again.” She waved, before running down the path. 

Azlyn also waved back, “Have a safe training!” She didn’t know what else to say except that. This caused the Miqo’te to chuckle before darting off for good. Now with her inspected cargo ready to take to the guild, the Au Ra made her way back into Limsa Lominsa, and to the closest crystal she could find. There she teleported to Melvaan’s Gate Guild, and presented her findings to the interim Guildmaster Thubyrgeim. 

“You have returned with the cargo?” The Roegabyn woman replied calmly, taking the packages. “Yes, everything seems to be in order—relatively clear of blood and other gore. That can be something of a problem in our profession. I also had a word from K’lyhia regarding your performance. She seemed eager to continue your training. Which I’m glad to hear of.”

Azlyn smiled. “She—had some interesting calculations.” Remembering how she pulled out the number 9,785. 

The Interim Guildmaster chuckled, wrapping a hand under her chin. “She is a bit odd, I’ll admit, but the guild can boast no finer mind for tactics. You would do well to heed the instruction she offers, particularly that which touches on the diligent approach of our art.”

“She mentioned the current Guildmaster—was she a direct pupil of his?” 

Thubyrgeim frowned, “That would be something she would have to tell you about, unfortunately, but what I can tell you is that she has her reasons. Admittedly, I do find it odd that she still keeps her initiate’s grimoire as her companion, despite her current position as foreseer.” She looked over to the bookshelf, a little worried. However, she turned back to Azlyn with a slight shrug. “I fear that her intense focus on arcanima had led her to overlook other important aspects of life—as our master strategist guides your arcanist training, I hope that you might return the favor and help to broaden her own perspective, somewhat.” 

As an arcanist in training, Azlyn bid her farewells to Thubyrgeim, needing another night with the book that had been loaned to her. With her tasks done with Mealvaan’s Gate, she decided to see what Baderon wanted from her this morning. 

She was getting pretty familiar with Limsa Lominsa, traveling through the sections with ease like any other individual in the city. She walked through Bulwark Hall, deciding to take the Crow’s Lift up to the Drowned Wench—instead of her typical route from the upper Aftcastle above. 

Azlyn pulled out her favorite bar stool, and sat in front of Baderon. “I’m back.” 

The late forties bartender rolled his neck at the sight of her. “Heard ye’ve been travelin’ out the walls the past two days. Gettin’ pretty comfy walkin’ around—seein’ the sights?” 

She nodded, placing both of her arms to rest on the counter. “It’s been fairly enjoyable. I liked helping the people at Red Rooster Stead.” 

Baderon grinned at her saying that, “I’s got a deal fer ye—I’d like ye to visit an orchard by the name o’ Summerford Farms. Ever ‘eard o’ the place?”

“Can’t say that I have.” She shook her head. 

“I know the owner, ‘e’s an ol’ mate o’ mine, Staelwyrn. E’s got ‘imself a crew o’ mostly reformed pirate types, if ye can believe that, and ‘as been tryin’ to bring a bit o’ life back to the fields after the Calamity ruined the soil.” Baderon wiped the counters, pausing since Azlyn looked ready to say something. 

“Apparently Toad Liver’s good for soil production.” She replied, thinking back to Anaoc. 

Baderon laughed. “Piss on that—superstitious more like—nah that ol’ bastard don’t need no toad livers. ‘E mentioned needin’ another ‘and or two, and yer name just sprang to mind.” 

Azlyn supposed it would be a potential money investment for her own coinpurse. “Does he pay well?”

“I gave ye a glowin’ recommendation, so if ye work hard, and impress the old bastard, he might be willin’ to drop a few coins yer way. Ol’ Baderon steered no soul wrong—best ye remember.” He smiled at her, and then dropped into his teasing. “What’d I say about them coins gettin’ loosed? Did’ja buy too much shite at the markets?” 

Azlyn slumped, “Ugh—don’t even get me started. Freakin’ Lala.” 

Baderon chuckled. “Swindled by the sounds o’ it.” He laughed. “Whose done ye wrong lass? Ye know good Ol’ Baderon’s got yer back.” 

She shook her head. “Nah—I fell for it three times now. It’s a hard lesson I need to learn. I’ll earn back the money I had to pay and then I’ll find a way to pay that Lalafell back. Maybe some auraliae umbrellas on their porch.” Azlyn mused herself at the thought, and chuckled. 

“Still got them suckers under the counter if ye want ‘em back.” He suggested with a wry grin. 

Azlyn shook her head. “No—these ones need to be fresh. The fresher, the smellier, the better.” 

“Sounds like a pretty hefty grudge—if ye ask me.” Baderon leaned on his open palm to look at her. “I’ll see what small jobs I can find fer ye while yer gone. Help ye replenish what was unjustly taken. Anyroad, get yer map out so I can show ye where to go.”

Azlyn pulled out the map, thankful she got this one for free. 

“This place ain’t ‘ard to find; just take Zephyr Gate out o’ the city, and follow the road northeast. Pretty simple, eh?” He also plotted the course with his finger, letting her see which paths to take. 

“As simple as pot pie.” She smiled. 

Baderon nodded. “Mmm, that sounds pretty good. With all the bits and bobs inside the gravy.” He looked up at the large wooden, mechanical clock. The hands shown a time close to two thirty. “If ye leave now, ye might make it ‘fore supper. That Ol’ bastard’s probably got some fresh fruit fer a bargain price.” 

Azlyn picked up her stuff, agreeing with Baderon. “Alright, then I will be out of your hair for the time being. I’d be grateful for any help for local jobs nearby. I’ll do anything—“

Baderon confirmed with a raised eyebrow. “Anything?” 

She gave him a nod. “Literally. Anything.” 

He shook his head. “Sounds like yer coinpurse is desperate.” 

“It really is.” She bemoaned, shaking her head. “Well see ya!” She waved, making her way out of the pub and to the crystal by the Aftcastle. There she bounced to the Zepher Gate, and walked down the linear path passing the rolling hills, and up a few of the cliffs. She summoned her emerald carbuncle to keep her company, as she trekked her way over. Summerford Farms had a crystal that she could attune to, so she took the time to do so.  

And as Baderon said, she made it well before supper had been made, and found herself staring up at a seasoned Roegabyn male. He also looked down on her with his arms crossed. 

“Are you Staelwryn?” Azlyn asked, while her carbuncle played loops in between her legs. It was weaving in and out having fun. At least one of them was having that. 

“Ah, you must be Azlyn. Baderon promised to send along an adventurer—I was expecting someone more—sturdy.” He examined her short frame, and scrawniness under a scrutinizing eye. “Well—we don’t see much of yer kind ‘nyroad.” 

“I’m a lot of potential in a tiny package.” Azlyn offered, shrugging that she couldn’t help being small for her race. In actuality, she was fairly above average height for an Au Ra woman—just shy of five foot eight. 

This caused Staelwryn to chortle. “‘E said you were funny—and you honored his word by your arrival— so that’s a good start.” He cleared his throat. “I’m Staelwryn, the ‘old bastard’, as Baderon likely described me, and this here is my humble orchard.” He gestured to the pastures growing beyond Summerford. The plants seemed to be having a rough time growing, despite the abundance of life in the soil. Perhaps this was what the meteor project took away from this land—it’s potential for furthered growth. 

“Actually, he described you like that three times.” She raised her fingers, “but I’m not judging. He calls himself old all the time.” 

The Roegabyn smirked at her comment. “That much hasn’t changed—good.” He brought her attention to a few of the guys nearby cracking open the crates below, or scattering fertilizer on the ground. They seemed weary and tired. “A good number of the lads and lasses workin’ here once terrorized the high seas. And if you’r wonderin’ why I employ these scrags, well, they used to crew my pirate ship. Staelwryn: But the Calamity did for our ship, like it did so many others, and I was sore wounded into the bargain.” He then presented his whole left arm to let her see. Scars that healed over, multiple lacerations—From the looks of it, he was probably lucky to even have had his arm after that. 

“Everyone lost a bit of something. Even I did—despite never once setting food here.” She thought of her parents. 

He unrolled his sleeve to cover his arm again. “What was that, if you don’t mind the business.” 

She shook her head. “Nah, it’s been five years. It was my parents. They were at Carteneau when everything came crashing down.” 

Staelwryn nodded. “Indeed—so you can understand what I had to do afterward—I had to feed myself and my crew somehow, and Admiral Merlwyb’s initiative to get us landlocked buccaneers workin’ the fields seemed too fine an’ offer to refuse.” 

Azlyn smiled, “I’ve heard about this Admiral before—she must be something.” 

He agreed. “The Navigator blessed us all with her presence. Her composure, her cunning, her decisiveness were all things many pirates wished to emulate. She, herself was a smash-bucklin’ pirate—but those are days lost past.” Staelwryn would have continued, but a loud screeching noise stopped their conversation. The building’s door opened, revealing an angry  man. This person gave Azlyn quite the mad glare before he walked past without saying a word. 

“Well, it turns out you can take the pirates away from the sea, but you can’t take the sea away from the pirate. A lot of my guy’s just never took to tendin’ the soil, you see. And unfortunately, the botanists I called in to train ‘em have been wringin’ their hands in black despair. With so much work pilin’ up, I need a tougher soul to step in and help where it’s needed. You said you have a lot of potential in that small package of yours, let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.” He smirked. 

Azlyn just clenched her fist, and let her fist punch into her open palm. The small clapping sound as her hand hit her open palm resonated around them. “Bring it on—if you have the money to spare, I’ll do whatever it is you need.”

Admiring her answer, he smirked. “Oho!  As long as you’re this determined, I won’t feel any guilt throwin’ you to the sharks. Erstwhile buccaneers are an ornery lot, their raging love for the sea, and cares little ‘bout the laws of the land. But they do respect strength. And I’d say you’d have little trouble gettin’ their attention.” 

She nodded. “Cause I’m different?” 

Staelwyrn shrugged. “Nah—it’s that look in your eyes. Anyroad, the reason why I need a capable adventurer is because of some strange rumors floating around. Strange tides and woes of tales of abductions. Aye, citizens have been disappearin’ from every corner of Limsa Lominsa, as if plucked from the face of Hydaelyn, boots and all, by an unseen hand.” 

Azlyn had to think back, wondering if the rumors had reached Limsa. She did recall some of the Yellowjackets the previous night warning her to be careful on her own. But she just assumed it was because she was alone and female. Maybe they were indicating about the rumors instead. “How does an orchard like yours tie into the abductions?” Azlyn asked, wondering why Baderon sent her here of all places. 

“It remains to be seen, but it seems a collection of right unsavory fellows with azure-tattooed face has been creepin’ up to the edges of the fields and spyin’ on me men. Now, I doubt anyone would enjoy bein’ scrutinized by such savages at the best of times, but the farmhands are convinced that they’re the kidnappers of rumor, come for their hides.” Staelwyrn sighed, shaking his head. He too seemed to wonder about the rumors. 

“That probably doesn’t do well with the morale of the orchard.” Azlyn surmised, seeing the dreariness of the workers. 

“Aye, they’re beside ‘emselves with worry, and their work’s sufferin’ for it — which is the very last thing I need when my old crewmen are still gettin’ used to their new jobs. ‘Tis a struggle to get ‘em to leave the farmhouse of a mornin’.” He pointed to the large building behind him, the one where that angry man from before exited from. 

“So this is where I come in—you want me to look into these tattooed people.” 

He nodded. “Good lass, you picked up fast. The sooner we get to the bottom of this, the sooner this place will start to resemble a workin’ farm again. Got yourself a map?” Azlyn had already started to pull it out. Luckily when she shuffled her feet, her carbuncle had sensed her movement—easily weaving around her feet. 

He pointed to a grotto a little bit away. “I suggest you begin by havin’ a look around Seasong Grotto. If reports are to be believed, our unwelcome visitors have occupied the place.” 

She rolled up the map to stow it safely away. “Alright, I believe that’s everything. I’ll start now before we lose more sunlight. I’ll let you know my findings tonight.” Azlyn smiled. 

Staelwryn grinned. “Just be careful, I couldn’t say for sure what manner of miscreants we’re dealin’ with here. If they are the kidnappers—well just be on your guard. You hear?” 

Nodding, she rolled up her sleeves and stretched her arms in front of her. Her carbuncle sensed it was time to move, and bounced ahead of her, leaping ahead past the hill and down toward the Summerford Farms gate below. “Thank you for the concern—I’ll be careful.” She gave a courteous bow, and then followed her carbuncle’s tracks. 

This was a pretty good place to train beside her carbuncle, and she could do as K’lyhia recommended by practicing her strategies against real life enemies. Azlyn picked off small droves of insects bothering some of the furthest workers, and prevented a giant moss creature with nasty breath and a hunch back from ruining the fields with their plodding feet. Some traveling plants had lurched their way on the path, wreaking the gates that protected an orange field. Azlyn dealt with all of these common threats, and was rewarded for her troubles. It was small pocket change, but at this point, money was money and she needed to get some more so she could rent out a room for the night. 

The time it took to traverse the green pastures took a bit longer than she was expecting, but it was around when the sun started to set that she found Seasong Grotto. It was located by a large open field, where these large roaming creatures with massive tusks ate. She didn’t know if they were hostile or not, but they were quite a sight to behold. 

The sky had been painted with an array of color, as light reflected off the ocean back up to the clouds forming. Pinks, purples, and a tinge of orange masked the overall complexion of the world, blinding her until her cupped a hand over her head. 

She spotted a potential entry, a path leading down into an open-mouth cave. Azlyn moved, keeping quiet in case these potential kidnappers were within. Only, as she appeared within the cool damp recess, she found herself without light. 

There were blobs of floating orbs, weaving up and down—but no sign of anyone inside. Her eyes adjusted, taking in the poorly lit interior, and a massive stone pillar within. A torch had been mounted to the pillar, lighting up a scripture. Azlyn stopped just short of the piece, staring up at the ancient letters. Her mind was already translating—but was stopped short when a pair of footsteps alerted her of a presence. 

Turning around she saw a Miqo’te walking up. Her light brown skin, brown facial markings—light teal eyes alight with something Azlyn couldn’t quite put her finger on. She also had white hair, with two frontal pigtails tied with rings. What drew her attention the most to this Miqo’te was not her white dressed robes with silver patterns, blue leggings, and traveling boots—but the aetheric device she wore around her neck. That was something most Sharlayan’s received. Not to mention the purple markings upon her neck. 

“I am the waves that bear I am the winds that guide.” She approached her side, but the Miqo’te was staring up at the scripture. 

Azlyn astutely studied the stone, right after she left off she said. “I am the evening stars. I am the morning sky. I am born of the sea. And there shall I die.” 

The young lady gave her an intrigued expression, but continued nonetheless. “Thus reads the Sailor’s Requiem carved into yonder stone. Such words well describe the manner in which the citizens of Limsa Lominsa live their lives.” The Cultured Conjurer smiled, “It is both litany against misfortune for those out on the waves, and a prayer that the souls of those who perish on land might find their way back to the sea.” 

The Au Ra nodded, staring up at the massive stone. How long had it been there? Her sense of research wanted to delve further into the history behind Limsa Lominsa, but she couldn’t. She was out on a request. And she really needed money. She looked to the Miqo’te with a curious expression. 

Obviously she could be someone to trust—after all, she did have the markings of an Order—not to mention the Sharlayan’s goggles. 

“You must be the adventurer I’ve seen around—yesterday you were by Red Rooster Stead.” Apparently she too was studying her. 

“I thought myself on the trail of the kidnappers, but it would seem I have missed my mark.” She tapped her chin in thought. 

Azlyn crossed her arms. “Summerford farms sent me here to investigate as well. It seems something is amiss.” 

It was then that Azlyn’s Carbuncle lowered itself to the ground. It was growling at something near the entrance of the Grotto. She followed the gaze of her familiar, and also tensed. 

“....Or perhaps not.” The cultured conjurer replied, drawing out her branch-like wand. It was then that the cavern walls shook in vibration, as a large mossy creature pounded inside. It’s maw open wide with sharpened teeth started to charge forth to them—bloodlust in it’s beady eyes. It definitely towered over both of them—and the two had to move out of its way as it charged. 

“As I suspected, the aetheric disturbance here is no natural occurrence. Nor is it a coincidence that the two of us should come here in search of those responsible for the disappearances only to be attacked!” The conjurer replied calmly, sending bursts of wind into the creature, giving them space to move. Azlyn’s carbuncle was also doing the same, delivering precise wind bursts into its knees to buckle it down for a moment. 

Azlyn and the conjurer stood side by side now, preparing for battle. “But who stands to benefit from the keeping of this secret? I suppose such thoughts must wait. Let us attend to the task at hand, unpleasant though it be.”