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photos taken by @anngunnfoto

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Prompt 30: Two Heads Are Better Than One

Esredes' heart dropped when he approached the remains of the village. The blizzard and hail combination last night had left more damage than he anticipated- roofs were caved in or full of holes, the very foundations were blown to the side or partially collapsed, and while it looked like no one had died, they were all huddled around fires shivering. Everything looked absolutely and utterly miserable.

"We're going to have to put aside the week to repair this," Esredes said to the little group he'd brought along. He'd thought it would be enough just to have a trusted circle of Mythirel, Marcelloix, Heilyn, Vette, Fiachna- whose sister Niamh had also decided to come, to which Esredes only reclutantly allowed- and Marchand was there too, he supposed. The man had technically joined them, and he might make himself useful on this task. But even despite these two uneasy allowances, as Esredes surveyed the extent of the damage done to the village their movement was taking shelter in, it was not near enough to make quick progress. Oh, they would all be suffering the entire week.

"Maybe I can convince a couple more people to come out here," Esredes said with a sigh as he tapped his linkpearl. Elouan was not a member of the movement proper, but he trusted him with this affair at the least. He explained the situation over the pearl to him and luckily, just as Esredes anticipated, he agreed to come right over and help.

"Let's get to work in the meantime," Esredes said. "I'll call over as many of the movement as available as the week goes on. With luck, we'll have this all functional by the end of the week." For now, he sent Fiachna off on that messenger task and got to work with the rest of the crew. Marchand made himself useful hauling the supplies and materials they did manage to bring along as well as those too injured to move around properly, while Heilyn got to work repairing the damage, even though it quickly became apparent it wouldn't be enough. Vette kept the campfires roaring and otherwise provided heat to the villagers who weren't lucky enough to be blooded with fire, melting away ice and snow that was in the way of them making any progress. Esredes tag-teamed with Marcelloix to haul and assist with the basic repairing he could do, transforming frequently to help hold things into place for others to nail down or get people and materials onto the roof.

The little group worked away for a couple hours, and had barely made a dent in the work. A couple little houses looked in better shape now, but far from finished, the debris from the storm to clear out seemed endless, and they didn't have nearly enough materials to keep at this forever. That's when Esredes heard his name with a familiar cheerful voice, and when he turned around his heart rose and dropped in equal measure. Elouan had showed up, as promised, along with Fiachna making his return. But with him he'd brought an entire crowd of others. Andromeda, Mercer, Aloysia, Ryousei, Majalis, Leigh, Alvere, Fuyu, Kainen, Azarah, Alastor, and for some reason even Ross who Esredes barely remembered the name of were all there too- along with an apparent delivery of more supplies, with a note from Adel saying they were from an anonymous wealthy source. And to all of it, Esredes blinked several times in a row. This village was confidential. It was private. The last thing these people needed was for their peace and solitude away from Ishgard to be disturbed by outsiders who could come back and mean them harm- No, no. Esredes, for once, quieted the thought as it came. These were not loyalists or outsiders, these were his trusted friends and associates that had come to help. A smile came to his face, and with it, the work continued.

Andromeda was familiar with handling housing in the cold- Shiva bless her country Garlean origins- and immediately helped lead and assist the rest in where to repair and bolster the damage done to the buildings, as well as having come with more materials of her own, and putting that magitek of hers to heal the injured with Fuyu. Mercer was good with lifting the heavier things and hammering, but he also got to work fixing broken metal. Meanwhile, Ryousei was on watch duty, surveying ahead to be sure the area was clear of any actually unwanted visitors who could try and bring the entire place down. You never knew even in this post-war world. Majalis and Leigh were focused on distributing supplies to ensure everyone remained warm and fed, Leigh coming with jarred foods and spare blankets, and once that was done Majalis moved on to assist Fiachna and Niamh with repairs. Kainen used his Dragoon jumping to more easily move materials around. Azarah and Vette both assisted Aloysia and Rossignol with getting a pot of soup going for everyone, a combination Esredes couldn't voice his protest to until it was too late. Aloysia insisted the vague, mushy concoction they had made tasted good, but Esredes wasn't about to trust it for a moment. Fortunately, Vette, Alvere, and Leigh came to the rescue, adding in the right ingredients to make it palatable.

By the time everyone settled down with the soup, the progress had made leaps and bounds compared to where it was at before backup arrived. And with the promise of more people coming tomorrow thanks to Fiachna's messaging, it looked like they might have this village fully functional again by the end of the week indeed. People settled in, villager and helper talking to one another around bowls of soup, exchanging ideas and learning about each other, and with the multiple sources of fire the cold Coerthan night felt warmer than it would have all alone. Esredes closed his eyes. All of this reminded him of when they had worked on the Firmament together- but that had been everyone, and for the whole good of Ishgard. This? Coming out to help him and his so far away from the center of Coerthas? He couldn't help but smile, and something in his active mind slowed down. Perhaps he needed too many reminders that the people around him were to be loved and trusted, but moments like this kept his hope alive for the future. He didn't dare think that someday soon everything would end, and this could be the future he lived in. Yet ever since the end of the world came and went, he'd also felt like something had really changed, and this sight was yet more proof of it. The future, as always, remained cloudy, murky, and uncertain- but as the group settled in for the night to get back to work tomorrow, everything felt at ease in the world.

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Prompt 23: On Cloud Nine

Sometimes, Esredes' friends mandated- by force- that he have a relaxation day. This involved less a nice and slow and quiet morning into a comfortable afternoon and more of a dragging out to do something that he couldn't say no to. And on this particular day, he had been dragged out to something he didn't even realize existed- even though there was no reason it wouldn't. And when his eyes took it in, he was reminded that some people knew him a little too well.

Here out in the meadows of Vylbrand, he had been dragged out to a local farm. And the little pens were full of rabbits. Esredes' usual stoicism immediately melted away when he first spotted them, and he couldn't take his eyes away from the little fuzzballs. It was the friend who brought him here, who had explained knowing the owner on the way over, who had to go and talk to him on his behalf before he opened the pen for Esredes to step inside.

Esredes was very careful when he did. If he accidentally stepped on any part of the rabbits, he would never forgive himself. That would be it for him, there was no moral recovery from that. He stared down at all the rabbits who barely paid him any mind, reached down, and pet a brown one right on the ears. They always had the softest ears. Why were their ears so soft? Why were their beady, black eyes so cute? Rabbits defied reason, but Esredes liked that about them.

It didn't take long for the normally reserved man to start laughing lightly as he laid down next to the rabbits on his back and watched them do nothing in particular except move around a little. He waited and waited for more to move closer to him, and at that point, he wouldn't stop laughing at all. There were so many little rabbits around him, and all of them were too cute, and they were all so soft. He kept reaching out his hands to pet them, and all with that stupid smile on his face.

If his friend wanted to, they could simply leave him there and never return. He seemed endlessly joyful the more the day stretched on, occupying himself with the little creatures as if all the weight of everything had sunk out of him and into the ground, out of sight and out of mind.

Well, it seemed there was a way to make the harrier relax, after all. And it all relied on something very small.

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Prompt 28: Deleterious

There were quite a few things Esredes did not like to read in a letter sent to him by a familiar acquaintance, or anyone, really. And 'I have come into possession of a Dark Knight soulstone' was in fact, one of them. "Let's talk downstairs," Esredes said when the acquaintance arrived to the meeting. "It'll be private enough for our purposes." "You make it sound like we're breaking the law." "Your letter mentioned something illegal in it." "Hey," the Maelstrom soldier said as he followed Esredes downstairs, "I was a sellsword, not gonna pretend I respect the sanctity of the courts but what, are soul stones illegal now?" "The one of a Dark Knight? Absolutely, if you're going to stay around here." Esredes took a seat at one of the banquet tables. If you needed to meet someone in an ambiguous location, The Hive- his new name for the manor Bee Club was hosted in- had you covered. "Do you not know what that thing is truly capable of?" "Teaching you how to leverage a heavy sword and using your emotions to scare corrupt knights and nobles?" Esredes paused at this. "...Well, I can't exactly say that's an incorrect way of putting it. But it's downplaying the severity of it." Leon tilted his head as his eyes darted around the ceiling. "I'm guessing this piece of rock it's considered a lot more than just learning tool like Skysteel has been passing around?" He looked directly at Esredes.

Somehow, Esredes resisted the urge to sigh. "All right. So I'm taking it you don't know what a Dark Knight truly is, yes?" "Well in Dalmasca they're psychopathic knights with umbral magics. But I'm not using umbral magics so I assume what you're thinking about is different. The stories you hear from outside Ishgard are about a bunch of rogue knights who clean house whenever some temple knight or priest puts their hand on a maiden. Usually impaling people with darkness... but not like void darkness. Not sure how it works exactly, not gonna lie. Been letting the stone do most of the work." "You've been using it already- good gods, stop." Esredes said, throwing his hands up. "Don't do that. Do not just rush in to this kind of magic with no idea what it is or does." He throws his arms out in opposite directions. "Aren't you a ranked military officer? Surely you have more common sense than you act like you don't have??" As per usual, Esredes quickly worked himself up. It took a couple minutes of conversation for him to settle down again. "I'll admit I don't know all that much about you. But consider this advice from a concerned acquaintance. You mention an incident- I can read between the lines. You lost control of yourself, yes?" Leon looked away. "Before the soul stone. I hurt people because of some... issues stemming from a group I signed up with after the war... After the storm settled, the dark knight gave me his stone. This is why I said what I said earlier about getting rid of it being a bad idea." "A Dark Knight gave you a stone but explained nothing about it or how to use it." "He told me that it'd help keep... whatever is wrong with me from hurting others. I haven't heard from him in months outside of occasionally crossing paths for a few minutes at most. I got issues, Rosemond. I'm not gonna pretend I'm a normal functional person but the knight is off doing some self reflection journey and isn't able to mentor me with it. Something he did is making me feel bad about doing my job. I care when I didn't before and whatever was inside my head making me angry all the time has calmed down." "Then he shouldn't have given it to you in the first place." Esredes remarked. "You cannot rush into dangerous magic without a mentor. Nor can you teach other vulnerable people like yourself anything about it. You will get yourself and all of those people you mentioned killed or arrested or worse if you use that soulstone. So. There is a much simpler, much less dangerous solution you are completely overlooking." "Which is?" "I'm a part time counselor. And I know how to cure peoples' problems with keeping control. Get rid of the stone safely and throw away the thought of teaching anyone else about it. If you need to sort out your problems, then fine. I will help instead, if it means preventing a long line of potential misery." Leon showed hesitance with 'head doctors', but Esredes simply offered a five-minute sample and it turned into a long and emotional conversation. And at the end of it, he reached into his jacket and took out a Dark Knight Soulstone attached to a chain necklace. "You hold onto it till next time. I actually haven't parted with it since it did 'fix' me before. Just... don't get rid of it... yet." "...I won't," Esredes said as he took the necklace by the chain. "I'll keep it somewhere safe."

Leon wasn't the first, and Esredes knew he wouldn't be the last. They came to him in counseling with a dark entity taking them over or making them speak. They showed no mercy to tempered parties with that all-consuming dark magic. His beloved and trusted right-hand confessed to him once that it was slowly taking him over and making him more cruel when he took out his targets. Esredes never understood this phenomenon, and he didn't think he ever would. Sure, it was an evil boogeyman and fairy tale when he was a knight, but seeing it firsthand as a harrier was still a dance of fear and awe that never quite went away. When he knew it was being used to protect him and his, he felt safe. But watching the way it consumed others, and the way it could simply erase people from existence outright- Esredes shuddered each time he thought about it. And so he never trusted a Dark Knight on the spot. Why such dark and unhealthy magic existed, he didn't know- but even as he relied on it to keep him and his safe, he could never be certain if it was truly worth the risk of what it did to others.

He could feel, faintly, each time he handled something like that soulstone, the abyss calling to him. It reached out with gentle, caressing hands, beckoning him to manifest that swirling storm within him. And each and every time, he ignored it. He would never get away with having such dark power, and he knew it would consume him instantly. Esredes would never be a Dark Knight, but at least he could ensure others didn't fall to its trap. They would control the abyss, or else they wouldn't get to channel it at all.

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Prompt 27: Memory

There was one specific question that came up a lot in Esredes' day to day life:

What was that person's name?

It wasn't getting any better with age, and it was never really there to begin with: Esredes couldn't remember names.

Someone introduced themselves, he tried to recall what name they gave him within twenty seconds or less, and he couldn't do it. It simply emptied his mind as quickly as it came in, passing by like a fly buzzing along and out of sight. Maybe it was because he didn't care- a name was just that, he'd known something of what it was like to have it taken away from you, and it didn't change or tell anything about you, so why bother? Combinations of letters, words that were not words most of the time, drifting down the waterfall into the recesses of his memory banks that couldn't be braved for retrieval. The waters were too distant and deep.

Perhaps he could have written them down, but it never occurred to him in the middle of conversation to do so. There were always introductions, and it wasn't like he ever remembered to mention his own name most of the time. With the negative weight attached, he'd grown averse. And so he asked the question to himself over and over, often multiple times:

What was that person's name?

But there was one tried and true method that did get Esredes to remember a name. The problem was, it was in no way practical for everyday life.

Whenever someone needed to know what they had done. Whenever someone challenged him on what he'd lost. And sometimes, whenever he was alone. Esredes closed his eyes, and began to recite names.

These came out flowing from the waterfall like a torrential downpour. On and on, he could recite them with perfect accuracy, each and every harrier he had ever gotten the name of before they perished.

History would not remember them. So he had to instead. He was a living graveyard of names, names far more important to him than anyone's introductions.

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Prompt 26: Zip

It was slower in the morning.

What time is it. Need to complete the routine. Make a note about picking up more orange juice, don't forget. Should I take the time to stop at a café? Oh, I really want a little cinnamon roll or something. No, it's not important.

It always picked up on the street.

Both directions. Why are they staring at me. They stopped, it was probably just the color. That person is staring way too long. This one has been on the same street as me for three turns, are they following me? Oh, good, they went into a shop. Made it to work undetected. Why does Heilyn's hair always look so bad. Where did I put my pen. I hope no one comes in in the morning. Shit. Do I really have to talk to him of all people? Straighten out your hair, your clothes, smile, walk as tall as possible. Is anyone following me. That person glanced at me a little too long. They're not following. Who decorates their interior like this. Does he prefer Lord or Ser? Does he recognize my face? Did he kill my people without remorse? Does he want to kill me? How might he try to kill me in this very room. Why do soldiers think they can do political endeavors at all? You were supposed to die on the battlefield. I could have killed you. Then who would be in your place right now? -What did that even mean? Did I hear him right? Don't say anything wrong. Don't say anything wrong. Don't say anything wrong.

It was a constant stream, a constant repetition, like a muscle you couldn't help moving, over and over again. And to say Esredes was sick of it by this point would be an understatement. However, it wasn't like he had anyone to go to to talk about this, as he couldn't endanger someone with those talks again like last time. Which meant, he had to do it himself.

The next morning, Esredes tried something new. When he left the house, he focused only on the route to work. He didn't look to any passerbys at all, just the route ahead and the signs he passed by. The whole time, it felt like a dull pound in the back of his head. What if someone is following you. What if someone is trying to kill you. You know they would try, even in broad daylight. Still, he pushed forward, the pace of his thoughts slowed to that dull and limited thumping. The streets were just streets, the people were just people, there was no lurking evil spilling forth unto the world, not at this moment. It was just Ishgard. It was just home, for all it was good or bad. Right?

He pushed the door open to work and let out a sigh of relief. Saldis must be in the break room. Why did that plant move to the other side of the desk?

Slow, slower again. It was like he could hear the world around him once more, quiet as it was. Esredes greeted Heilyn in the hall as he passed by. Why does Heilyn's hair always look so bad.

He set everything up and began to get to work, which always helped to dull the thoughts down to a near nothing. It hadn't been a miracle on the street today, but it had worked, to some degree. But it's dangerous. What if someone stabs me.

He didn't have an answer to his own question, for now. Instead, he simply wrote on the parchment.

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Prompt 25: Perpetuity

Content Warning: Child abuse, psychological horror, dehumanization, torture

As a being of order, Esredes detested the chaos that swirled within him, and the world around him. The world, above all else, needed to make sense. There had to be reasons for why things happened, rules to follow, there had to be order. Chaos was bad. It consumed everything around it and left nothing in its wake. Chaos was the enemy, and it always would be. This had been taught to him as a teenager, and it had been his philosophy since. Adhere to and create order where there was none. But sometimes, this presented a problem. The Star operated on absolute laws. One of those was that evil existed, couldn't be reasoned with, and had no recourse but to eliminate it. Esredes had no need to question this, of course, not for a very long time. A knight did his duty, and a harrier defended himself. But then came inklings, clues, hints, teases of the absolute laws of the universe being broken. And they came in the form of the dark rooms.

Whether at the camp, or now at the Tribunal, or when talking to an Inquisitor or similar nonhuman entity, Esredes couldn't help but observe patterns of behavior, as he always did. And in doing so, questions came to mind. Pure evil existed. He knew this for a fact from his work. There were many entities- those that pretended to be human- which were plain and indisputably malicious. He tried, time and time again, to understand if there was a deeper motivation. Why did you abuse your son for years on end because you didn't want him? The little shit owed him. Why did you betray my people? How did that stop corruption? The answers were contradictory and nonsensical, until they finally landed on 'I have a compulsion to hurt people'. And of course, one of his favorites: Your people are dirt compared to my family. The Church told me to do it.

Absolute evil could not be negotiated with. Absolute evil had no true thoughts, feelings, or motives. It simply manifested in and took hold of a shell of an organic body through which it could do it work. Esredes wondered, sometimes, if evil was not an individual phenomenon, and instead these creatures all were part of a collective, a collective and parasitic force that manifested in the consciousness of human bodies at random. If he tried to start talking directly to it, and not the shell it was inhabiting, would it finally drop the game and laugh at him, realizing he figured out something no one else had?

The more Esredes observed the same rules happening over and over again, the more he spotted the little cracks. And in there, as he always did, he tried to burrow. There was a phenomenon that every manifestation of evil, no matter how vile, shared. If you applied pressure long enough to their lack of morality, there would be a moment where they snapped, and began to claim to feel remorse. But the moment you left them alone, this moment of clarity vanished forever, and they reverted back to normal. An Inquisitor told him the moment of clarity was fake, plain and simple. It was a defense mechanism to get the pain to stop. And of course, that would be the simple explanation, but it left something to ponder.

These creatures were not intelligent. They were barely sentient above an animal at times. They did not have the sense of mind to cower and avoid pain, no, they egged him on to cut into them, whether with words or a knife, over and over again. Why, then, did they suddenly have the presence of mind to try? It didn't feel natural, or organic. It felt like something else beyond them was taking over, and in that laid his fascination. The Azure Dragoon had been the most interesting failure so far- Alvere, of course, remained his only success, but Alvere was still human to a degree, more around his level. It was easier to extract evil when there was a person inside, even an incomplete one like himself. But the Azure Dragoon to take up the mantle after Estinien retired had nothing inside him. Once his mask broke, he was a dull, grey nothing that stared back at you. Esredes had kidnapped him and contained him in the camp's basement room for answers from the abomination that had killed fifty of his people with no remorse. What made him interesting is he was not alone. A voidsent had fused with him back during the Final Days, but this voidsent had a conscience while he did not. The voidsent was reasonable, and polite- naive, even, and offered his assistance in the current conundrum. It said it could try to reawaken old memories, and force the Dragoon to have a conscience. And indeed, what Esredes witnessed was a forced, extended moment of clarity. For a while the Dragoon began to emote like an actual person who can feel guilt. He screamed, he cried, he told Esredes to keep hurting him, to which he didn't need to tell him twice. But while it was forcefully prolonged, even this didn't last. Eventually, he settled back into apathy, and nothing spurred him any more. The most progress Esredes made was getting him to agree to not kill them again. It was a dead end, but one with promise. The memories made him begin to mimic human behavior again. Did that mean that even in a host where evil was completely taken over, in a defective being born only for malevolence, there was some kind of left in good instinct that didn't work properly? And if so, did that mean memory magic was the key? The key to breaking an absolute law of the universe. The key to changing the way human nature worked. The mere tease of it was too much for Esredes to resist. He was no Sharlayan Academic, he was the wrong kind of person to do something as big as figure out a way to cure or combat evil itself- but what if he had simply stumbled across something no one else had tried before, with this unnatural circumstance of a voidsent fused to a host?

Maybe there was another way. Maybe there was a true way to combat evil besides simply disposing of it, and leaving it to reform in another host like a voidsent. Maybe evil was his new nemesis, and he would find a way to strike back at it for all it did to take everything from him.

Evil was a permanent presence, and he was sick of it. If there was even a chance of shifting the balance, he would take it. For the good of the Star. For her. For himself.

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Prompt 23: Bar

Content Warning: Cannibalism

Esredes liked to think he was strict with other people. He had standards, moral standards, and he had to make everyone around him adhered to them, or else. He knew what was right and wrong, and so should everyone else around him. It was his duty to ensure people were their best selves.

The other harriers came to him from all sorts of backgrounds. Some ate people, some killed people without remorse, some took far too much pleasure in the violence around them. But they were broken people, and surely if he simply tightened his hold around them and made them see the light, they would start acting like people again. Any time he met with someone who tried to support the movement, he never knew if they were a backstabber. What they wanted to use it for, what skeletons they might hide in the closet. But the movement needed money, and the movement needed supplies. Sometimes, beggars couldn't be choosers, even if it was an Ul'dahn merchant who was probably putting people further into poverty.

Even if it was someone who turned out to kill people for no good reason. He never understood that, the pure and unfiltered malevolence that had no purpose, whether it came from one of his or one of them. The most you could do was control them. It was for their own good, if they were just animals like that.

Loyalists had to be held to particularly high standards. They were dangerous. He spared no effort ensuring that Alvere had changed to his liking- the man was his project, he held animals like a caretaker and almost died in black armor in the sun, but he was still a dangerous individual who killed gods know how many of Esredes'. And yet, here he was, making an exception for such a monster.

Maybe the Dragoon Esredes met on the street wasn't so bad- he seemed like one of the normal ones, maybe he was simply doing as he had to. And if it was a Temple Knight, Esredes seemed more eager to take the first hint of a good nature and accept it. They must have just been doing their duty, they couldn't be like the ones he saw in each and every clash, could they? They were once his after all, and he knew himself.

Maybe it won't be so bad, Esredes told himself, practically thrusting his own arm out for something to stab or bite it, over and over and over again, yet always surprised when something did bite it. In the end, what other choice did he have?

Maybe there is good in this person. Maybe they're not just a monster. Maybe I can correct them.

A part of Esredes knew you couldn't. But that wouldn't stop him from trying to prove his will was the mightiest. That he was the one who knew morality best, and he would prove it, over and over and over again.

How else was he to contend with human nature, being just one among many?

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Prompt 20: Duel

If there was one thing most people could agree on about Esredes, it was that he didn't forget the past.

A long time ago, he was but a green little trainee, not even a squire. He was tasked to deliver a report letter to a Captain about their patrol details, and that was when he first met him.

Ser Astor Chevalier was towering and commanding, complete with a verdant cape. To say the little Elezen who had yet to hit his growth spurt was intimidated would at the least be accurate, and he barely knew how to even dare approach the man. "E-excuse me, Ser!" Was his best attempt, as he stiffened his body language and saluted him. "A-are you Ser Astor?"

The man turned around to fix him with an expectant stare, folding his arms behind his back as he took Esredes in. "And what's this? You're not one of mine." His voice was resonant, but it carried an unexpected softness to it underneath. "At ease, son. Indeed, you've got the right man. What is it you need?"

"I've a missive from Ser Bishop to deliver, Ser. Report of the most recent patrol. He said you would want to read it first."

"Ser Bishop, eh?" He took the missive from Esredes' hands and opened it with a letter opener, addressing Esredes as he read. "What's your name, son?"

"Esredes, Ser. Esredes Rosemond."

"Rosemond? Did I hear that right?" He nodded as his eyes snapped up to meet Esredes'. "Not oft one of yours comes our way."

"Ah, no, Ser, but I'm proud and happy to be here."

"And you're still green..." The man shifted his jaw and waved a hand out towards the training field. "Tell me, Rosemond. What made you so keen on joining the ranks?"

This was not the first time Esredes had been asked this question. He broke eye contact to look out at the field with the commander. They all said it in that same tone, like they expected a correct response. He simply needed to give that response. "I have wanted to since I was younger." He settled on with firm eye contact. "But I was not allowed. Not until I finished schooling, my parents said. However, I studied everything I could from books, and I watched a cousin train. I read all the stories, I listened to what knights had to say. I know deep in my soul this is what Halone wants for me. No other path forward has opened up to me but this. I want to protect and save others, Ser. I want to do right for the people of Ishgard."

"Your parents were wise in telling you this. A man-no matter his reasoning-should never wish to go to war. It is a harsh, cruel, unrelenting force, not unlike the chaos of nature itself. Only nature, however destructive, serves purpose in its discord. War bears no cause, sowing nothing but blood and loss." He turned. "Come with me, Rosemond." Oh no. Esredes had said the wrong thing, hadn't he? Esredes followed in silence, heart pounding a little as they climbed the steps that afforded them a better view of the entire camp. "What is it you think they all hold in common, regardless of their drive-their reason for wishing to enter knighthood? To face war head on?"

It was a riddle, Esredes reasoned. It was always a riddle with them. “They’re… human? Vulnerable? Willing to do it? Not ready?”

Astor's arms clasped behind him. "All good answers. And none of them wrong. But they have one other thing in common. One more aspect to their lives, true for any man or woman who steps out unto the fray." He turned his head to look at Esredes. "You, all of you, are someone's child. Perhaps to nobility, highborn of the purest bloodline. Perhaps not, born to little or nothing at all. Perhaps some have never met their own, while others know well their lineage, and can trace it back generations." He waved an arm out over the scene before them. "But you started somewhere, born of another. You have a family, a home, which awaits your return. This is why I have two goals in this war, Rosemond. The first is to stand and fight, and see to it that we are the impenetrable shield between the Dravanian threat and Her peoples." He raised his chin. "...The second, is to see all such soldiers returned to their families. Their homes. Their lives... where they ought to be. Where this war steals them from. Some for moons. Some for turns... Some... forever more."

The emotion of his words washed over Esredes like a tide retreating too quickly. It didn't settle in beneath the skin, and he felt lost. All he could do was frown. "I... I see, Ser. That is... very noble and good of you. I... hope to be like that, too."

"Tis not noble, son. But the wish of a husband, and a father." He said. "Forgive me my suddenness, but I do believe we have volunteers to aid in making supper. Oh-and give Captain Bishop my regards, yes?"

"I- yes, ser!" Esredes said as the Captain headed out with that. And so Esredes went back to his tasks.

But that would not be the last Esredes saw of that Captain. Not at all. It was when Esredes had become a squire that he returned in the winter, very suddenly, behind Esredes just as he was cleaning his armor with a simple "Rosemond." And it sounded like it was coated over with malice. "Full glad am I to see you taking so well to your duties. Got a headstart on cleaning your amor have you?"

Esredes' blood had already turned to ice as he hobbled up to stand at attention. “Yes, Ser, I have.” He bowed his head. “I would not want to put it off.”

"That's good to hear you say, son. Good to hear you say. You know, it can be difficult, getting the hang of cleaning your armor. But it's a task best perfected early I'd like to think." He nodded. "So why not let the your fellows help you out? Get you nice and familiar with scrubbing that metal."

He put his foot forward, pressing it into the snow and sliding it aside to make a clearing. A shrill whistle followed and he stepped to the side, and suddenly one after the other every squire in the camp came forward and piled their armor up in front of Esredes. Esredes could do nothing but watch in shock as the pile grew and grew. Over twenty people had added to it. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Well!" Astor said when the pile finally stopped growing. "Looks to me like you've got your work cut out for you. But I've got high expectations of you, Rosemond. And I look forward to making sure all of those pieces are gleaming by the time you're done... wouldn't want anyone here having points docked on inspection tomorrow morn, would you?" The smile he gave Esredes was horrible. Oh so horrible, it made his stomach turn inside out.

He was going to be out here the rest of the day. But he was given a challenge, and he wouldn't back down from it. “Yes, Ser.” Was all he offered in acknowledgement. And then he scrubbed away at the armor. He scrubbed harder and harder, and in the end managed to finish by dinner, even though he was late. That was enough of a victory for him.

But sure enough, the next morning, the Captains' sollerets clinked across, followed by that shout of "Rosemond!" And Esredes tensed up. "You did good work, son. I'm impressed. Got the whole of the outpost looking spick and span! I think you've earned yourself a real assignment. What do you say, son?"

"What... what sort of real assignment, Ser?"

"Come now, look alive! I'm not going to bite your head off." The Captain laughed, but Esredes wasn't so sure.  "I'm trusting you to sweep the perimeter of the wall, son, make sure all is in order. "And another thing, I want you to pay close attention to the roads leading in and out of here, yes? We need those clear of any possible debris. Last thing we need is a supply cart getting caught on anything. Broom'll be by the gate. I made sure the boys set aside one just for you."

Esredes resisted the urge to narrow his eyes. Broom duty. Really?   He was tempted to ask how far out on the roads, but decided it was best not to get specific. "Very well, Ser." He offered.  How hard could it be to use a broom for this. He'd had to clean up his own messes to hide from his parents before. He started to turn, then realize he hadn't been dismissed and stiffened right back up to correct his position.

"Come now, Rosemond, where's that spark? If you're going to be out there you'd better be alert, at attention, aware of your surroundings! Or am I to find you half asleep at your post when a wyvern comes crashing through a wall? Did I say you were dismissed, Rosemond!?" He snapped. "But if you're so eager to get started, then maybe I should reward you for taking the initiative! While you're out there you can go ahead and count clearing the balistraria of any ice, as well as double checking our fortifications to your list of duties!" He stepped forward, closing in on the space between them both. "I do not want to see so much as a single pebble out of place! A splinter splitting from those blockades! Do you understand me!?"

“Yes Ser!” Esredes did not drop eye contact.

"That's more like it! Now get your arse out then and dont let me catch you back within these walls until you've made damn sure you are done! Dismissed!"

Esredes had tried to complete this task just as the one before. He snuck in to get a shovel, he began shoveling snow out by the path- but soon a storm brewed, and he found himself faced with a palisade coming down right on top of him. In that split second between being crushed or retreating into a hole for safety, he rushed into the hole and was sealed inside, trapped out in the cold. He tried to hack away at the wood with his sword, with his shovel, to even try and use his forbidden powers, but none of it worked to give him an escape. And it wasn't long after he passed out, woke up in the infirmary, and laid in bed after finishing supper feeling completely drained, that he appeared again.

"...Rosemond." His voice was hoarse as he peered down at him and pulled up a seat by his cot. "How are you feeling?"

Esredes tensed and sat up straight. "Better, Ser!"

"Easy there, son. You're still in recovery."

"...I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to get myself out, Ser. It- it will be different next time, I promise."

The Captain shook his head. "The only apologies here should be from myself, and the one responsible for distracting you and destabilizing the snow running about like that. My hope is that there won't be a next time. I'd hoped there wouldn't be a first time, frankly... But... what's happened has happened, and I can only thank Her and the staff here, along with your stubbornness, for keeping you with us..."

“I’m fine, Ser, really. Just… tired. I’m not here to fail, Ser. I handled it the best I could.”

"You might be, with time... but it isn't. Son, there's too much that could get a man killed out here... I should've never let one of those things be me." He bowed his head and took a breath. "And you've my humblest apologies for it." The man even made eye contact with Esredes, which he had started to grow to hate, even though his sharp gaze had softened considerably. "You handled yourself well out there. A lesser man would've panicked, stuck on the spot. Nobody can blame you for wanting some shuteye after it all." He pressed his hands to his knees and grunted as he stood. "You'd better get plenty of it. You aren't leaving here until those healers give you a clean bill of health, you hear?"

“Yes, Ser.” Esredes said. “I will rest. You have my word.” He was impressed. He was impressed! These last two horrible days had been worth something after all, and he wouldn’t be sent home.

He didn't see that Captain again until three years later, when he was a recently promoted Sergeant, when just as before, the clink of armor came up behind him. "Esredes Rosemond... Sergeant Esredes Rosemond from what I hear." The voice gave a deep, mirthful laugh. "Congratulations Ser, and might I say, impressive work, given the tales that've been told even in my neck of the woods."

"Captain." Esredes rose from his seat and gave him a much more practiced salute.

"At ease, son. My, it's been too long. You've come far since we last saw one another." Of course he had, Esredes thought as he clasped his hands behind himself and smiled. That was what rank got him, didn't it? To be look at instead of down upon by people like him? “I assure you, the tales are most likely exaggerated. It was others who did most of the work.”

"Oh please, no need to be so humble- unless my ears have finally begun to fail me and I've misheard how you took down a man before he could escape due justice?" Well yes, that had happened. But it wasn't so grand and dramatic, so he thought. "You ought to be proud, Sergeant. Your family must be, given how well you've taken to this. We could use more men liek you, frankly. Who aren't afraid to get the work that needs doing, done. Though if i may, I would like to steal you away from yours if but for a moment. As there is something I would discuss regarding a... another matter."

(more later!)

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 21: Shade

Part of Esredes' explicit agreement for his pardon was to stay in the shadows. If the masses were to find out he was let back in, it wouldn't just be consequences like his own demise, or even that of his peoples', but Ishgard being thrown into chaos. This meant that while they would take down the wanted posters, he would stay out of the public eye regardless. He could be a lesser diplomat of the Dravanian Alliance, but he could never speak at large gatherings, and especially not before either House. He could work with the Tribunal or as a political advisor, both roles that kept him right where he liked it and didn't put the attention on him. He was a creature of the shadows, and this did not change even with the pardon. It only meant he could spent some of his time in the light, but always retreat home to those comfortable shadows.

The light was exhausting. Attention and presence, was exhausting. But the more time went on, naturally, the harsher the light became. He'd expected it to burn him in the Contingency, but he somehow escaped relatively unscathed- except for the new scar on his hip, which light hadn't caused, and one young Temple Knight who tried to start it with him when they were on night watch together. But she was too open about letting all her feelings out, and Esredes had relatively easily managed to knock her off-center and let them continue the watch in silence. She also came back later as a voidsent, to make Esredes wish he had tried to talk to her more on that single shift. But at least another traditionalist had snapped and turned to his corner.

Now that he was also part of a small international diplomatic conference, that same dread of being too in the sun crept up like always. But it wasn't in Ishgard, he wasn't representing the city-state, and besides some he recognized from the Contingency, no one had any idea who he was, so quiet was the Ishgardian front that they barely sent more than one embarrassment of a Representative. And that was a comfort he immensely needed. If Ishgard's outsider wariness benefitted him most anywhere, it was here in this exact moment.

Spending so much time in the sun was always a little surreal, even now. The sun was on him the entire time in the Contingency, and yet he didn't feel much of a need to retreat to the shadows. He might not be completely open with everyone there, but he was himself. But eventually he had to come home, and in doing so slipped right back into his usual shadows. As he laid in his one true home, he pondered if the sun would ever get less harsh forever, if he could exist in that light state as he had in Ilsabard and Thavnair. Most signs pointed to no, and he could never give up being in the dark. Not since he failed to make it the light back in the Dragonsong.

But dreams drifted through his mind of a reality in which the two were together, and for once, maybe he didn't feel so split in half. What a far-off and distant dream, right?

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 19: Taken

CW: Fantasy Racism, Homophobia

Esredes had been keeping the same thoughts to himself about other peoples' relationships for a long time now. Why would you date a Miqo'te. Is that all you care about? Why would a man ever get in with another man. Have you only met those kind of noblewoman? Why are you, a harrier, trying to date a Loyalist. You know they want to kill you, right? Why are you dating someone that hurt you. Do you have Lominsan syndrome? At least, that's what the books he scavenged from the colony called it. When he read that, so much finally made sense.

Sometimes relationships seemed cute or pleasant to him, but most of the time, all he saw was either gross, imbalanced, or just sheer impulse. The wrong move, the bad call. This was a constant in his life that never alleviated. Each time he went out, to a bar or a lounge or even just out in public, there was no escaping it. All the lovey-dovey doting couples who barely talked about anything else, all the public displays of affection, all the talk of romance. And there was him in his corner with the same old tired argument: Soldiers don't love. Every soldier he knew was foolish for trying. Why be so content to leave someone heartbroken when you inevitably died? Everyone was stupid, in relationships. It was like it drained away everyone's brain. But it was one of Lady Elodie's associates who finally asked him the obvious question about the woman in his sights, when he brought it up: "Isn't it her choice too? Aren't you both soldiers?"

And for once, Esredes had no good rebuttal. If you were both going to die, why did it matter if you were in love? A love between two empty and shallow beings was like a droplet in a pond- instead of spreading out and flooding the world, it was inconsequential, small, and meaningless. It was an indulgence, perhaps, but not one the world would punish him for, right? But Esredes watched the couples dote on each other. How affectionate they were, how overpowering, how blind to reason, while he stood alone. He watched a friend of his cry horribly when he thought he lost his own wife, only for her to turn out all right and the two of them embrace, full of pure love. Or he watched Kainen and Azarah, who were always one of the few he felt worked out well, the way she looked out for his awkwardness and he showed her a simple and pure kind of affection, in his own awkward way, as everyone loved him for. And he concluded that perhaps, he simply did not know how to be in love. And that maybe, perhaps, sometimes, he was slightly jealous. How did someone else simply open up their heart and let their feelings run forward? If even the emotionally stunted Kainen could do it, what was his problem? That was the question Esredes still didn't know how to answer. And perhaps, that was why he was in no hurry to do so, either.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 18: Hackneyed

It took Esredes until after the war ended to finally participate in All Saints' Wake fully. Sure, he'd always liked the holiday, but the whole part of dressing up and making it out to events hadn't really been a part of his life before.

But one year, he finally decided he would try the dress up, the costumes. He had a fun idea for a costume and bought himself a purple robe and little clip-on earrings, painted his face with facepaint to sell the look. What stared back at him was his self-proclaimed 'dark sorcerer', and he tugged at the skirt of the robe to watch it move and flow a moment. He knew his fair share of dark sorcerers, but he was most certainly not one himself- none of them would mind if he imitated them for the fun of it, right? After all... it was the only idea he could come up with.

And so naturally, when he arrived to his former workplace to enjoy the All Saints event, not one, two, but three other people had the same idea. Two of them had the same hue of purple robes, and one was black, but still a robe to convey the same look: dark sorcerer. Well, that was just Esredes. He wasn't creative enough for things like costumes.

It didn't mean he didn't keep trying, though. He'd hit a height with the Fallen Angel costume the next year- he'd delivered a dramatic monologue and everything and won a contest- but it wasn't his idea. Victor had given that one to him. Next year, he tried being a type of voidsent. He found some fake horns and icy blue contacts, he'd attached voidsent wings to his costume and even wore shoes that made his feet look all wrong. Everyone kept assuming he was a dragon- as if that was 'dressing up' to him- but he'd managed to win another contest. By being the default entry. Still, no one could guess just what kind of voidsent he was, not even the self-proclaimed hunters and experts- so clearly, he had finally done it, right?

The next year he wanted to be creative. Truly creative. So naturally, he turned to literature. There was a high literature parable he enjoyed written about Vylbrand that turned the Kobolds and Sahagin into groups of people trying to summon thinly veiled allegories for Titan and Leviathan, all through the lens of a child soldier in the Maelstrom who stops both of them in their tracks. Esredes could tell the entire thing was meant to critique Lominsan policy, but he didn't know enough about said policy to think much of it. Instead he gravitated towards the colorful descriptions of action, and one character who resembled him in the illustrations. A mad genius type who tried to summon the Titan parallel, a villain to be taken down by the protagonist. Well, it was his idea. So it was time to try a costume that no one would get, at all. An excuse to discuss a book he liked, and drape himself in red robes, insert an extension into his hair to make a widow's peak, and shove black contacts into his eyes. It didn't win him any contests this time, but he was content with his own creativity for the second year in a row. Maybe he was getting the hang of it now. But the moment the Rising rolled around, and the season was peeking around the corner, he once again found himself with the same dilemma: what to be for All Saints' Wake? Every single outfit of his involved a flowing, draping robe, with all but the last being black or purple, so perhaps it was time to branch out... but into what?

Esredes drew a blank. He thought and thought about it, but he drew a blank. Creativity continued to be an ongoing struggle, it seemed, for a soldier could never be truly creative. But at least he was trying more than he thought he ever would be.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 17: Sally

They never saw it coming. He ensured that it was so. From shadows they dwell, and from shadows they strike. Blade against blade, fire against armor, fire and screaming.

It is said in tales in the Coerthan wilderness, That where Her Gaze doesn't reach, They are always waiting, and watching To tear you apart with teeth and claw.

He once marched wilderness with blade ready To strike at any monster in sight. Now he lies in wait for the clink of chainmail, And soon it slams against the ground Over and over again.

When the noises finally stop And the snow is painted red He wipes a smear from his cheek, And simply sighs at the sight.

There is nothing but a hollow cold. And yet, Had they seen the shadows first, It would be his who were painting the snow.

A hand of regret reaches down to grab A survivor by the neck, who cries for mercy "Do not resist, and I will spare you," recites the line But the snow remains red.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 16: Third-rate

It was another day at work in Dravania. Or at least, Esredes thought it was going to be, until he soon realized they had a guest. Normally the diplomats for the Dravanian Alliance simply went over to Anyx Trine in an airship when there was business to conduct with Hraesvelgrs' brood, and that is what happened today as well.

But the Azure Dragoon was here with them today. Not the last one, who Esredes at least had some respect for after how much Ysayle advocated for him, but his replacement, who Esredes didn't really know anything about. Everyone else at work loved him, of course. Esredes was working to maintain the balance between man and dragon, and all around him was nothing but Dragoons. Not a single person like him, not a single Disciple of Shiva- only those who were all too eager to kill him and any dragon before the war ended, yet had decided to follow the original Azure's footsteps and become Dragonriders.

Esredes never understood it. He had spent eight years and counting trying to get the dragons to trust him, as someone who fought for them. And while it worked for some, others never budged. They called him a foolish mortal, they called him eager to violence and warmonger, and he took their words. But they sometimes looked the other way when the Dragoons talked to them, as if they weren't approaching them in that spiked armor, unlike Esredes. Esredes liked his diplomatic coworkers. They accepted his position as a harrier, they were not hypocrites by any means. But it never left him to wonder, if the war were to restart, where they would point their lances. And something told him it wouldn't be at Ishgard, but him and them. Now with the Azure here for a day, all of his former coworkers were quick to chat him up along the way- conversations to which Esredes was torn between tuning out or listening intently. He could get information about what happened to his people in the war if he did, but something told him they wouldn't talk about it.

When their little league of diplomats had to present ideas and proposals to the Houses, Esredes didn't get to stand with them and speak despite his position. It would cause too much unrest, he was told time and time again. So he sat from the stands and took notes, always hoping they didn't get anything he said wrong, and sometimes they did. How could they fully understand from their position, after all? They turned when it was simple. Easy. Convenient. They never had to suffer like him. They had the best of both worlds, as no one ever admonished them for 'working with the enemy' like they did Esredes. They didn't turn up their eyes in suspicion if he even mentioned it. They did what was easy, and the world showered them in praise. All the while, Esredes remained the foolish mortal who was in the stands, or watching them chat amongst each other about their glory days as they praised the Azure Dragoon for his heroism.

Perhaps it wasn't their fault that the world gave them everything Esredes wished he had, and he knew this. He liked his coworkers, and they accepted him. But it was moments like when they all turned away and talked to the Azure that he wondered, as he often did, just how long it would be until he was finally fired from the position.

And if they truly wanted him in it at all, or if he was just a means to an end.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 7: Morsel

Working at the Tribunal did have its perks. Sometimes you were invited into the office of two immigrant Sharlayan Viera workers at the paper pushing level for a nice chat over tea in the morning, and they invited you out to a fancy restaurant and offered to pay for everything.

Esredes was so used to Inquisitors that it was a breath of comfort to interact with other lowly office workers. He didn't have to tense up, straighten his back, and put on that certain tone. He could simply talk within a reasonable limitation. And no, when it happened, he did not question why two men he didn't know were inviting him out for a fancy dinner and paying. He simply thought of the free food and accepted.

Then came the actual dinner. "Feel free to order whatever you want, by the way. There's no limit." One of them said to him. "I am glad to hear." He said, and proceeded to order a fancy drink, and two appetizers. "Last time I was here was... awkward." "Awkward? How?" "Well. I had to witness drunken family drama. Not my family drama, but nonetheless that started because I was being used as a ploy. So, that was fun." "Seriously? That sounds wild. Not too surprising though, unfortunately. The richer they are, the more they love to fight over the dinner table." "Mhm. Wife accusing husband of cheating, saying I needed to fix their problems. Fun. Very, very fun. I love being a counselor sometimes." "Isn't it malpractice for a counselor to go to dinner with patients?" The other Viera chimed in. Esredes blinked. He wasn't a doctor, why was he bringing up that term? "No one there was my client. They independently contracted me for their staff." "Ahhhh... That's quite tricky." "I should've seen it coming, really, but." Esredes shrugged. "In the end, I enjoyed the food."

The waitress came back. Esredes ordered a Seafood Platter with a bowl of Seafood Bisque, as well as a Salmon Muffin. The other Viera sipped his drink. "An oyster drink and an oyster appetizer... I didn't even think about it." "Someone has a preference." Esredes remarked. "I suppose. Do you have a favourite seafood, Esredes?" "I like salmon. 'Tis why I threw in the muffin." "Salmon's pretty good." "That it is." "I like some raw fish, really." "I see." Esredes kept eating the appetizers.

"Do you think they sell wine by the bottle here?" One of them soon asked.  "Last I checked they did." Esredes said. "I see... It might be fun to get a bottle? That way we can all try a little. I haven't had that many Moraby wines before." "If you're willing to pay, Peter." His companion said. "I wouldn't turn it down." Esredes said. "Then when we get our food, we should get one. I'm fine with either red or white, you two can pick." "Red." Esredes said immediately.  "Red it is." And so they had even more alcohol by the time the main course came. "I bet it would pair nicely with, hmmm...maybe the key lime pie?" One of the Viera offered. "Probably." The other said. "Likely." Esredes said. And when the waitress came back, with his main course still mostly intact, he offered to her, "I'd like the Cheesecake."

The three of them continued eating. Esredes had still barely gotten into his food. "A shame we can't split the bottle, but I'm sure Esredes would enjoy it more than me." "Well, if you're offering, I wouldn't turn it down." Esredes offered. His companion slid the bottle over to Esredes with a smile. "Here." "Thank you." Esredes set it aside. "I will guard it with my life."

When the cheesecake came, Esredes did manage to eat the entire thing, along with the bisque. By that point, the restaurant was near close, and he retrieved a little glass box. He proceeded to put the entire salmon muffin along with the rest of the calamari and crab cakes into it. Then he put his entree into a brown sack and folded it up nice and secure. One of them watched this entire process. "That's very efficient," he remarked. "You just take those out?" "Well, I can manage the walk home without it all getting too cold. But that's what my stove is for too." The other one smiled. "What say we go out to dinner again sometime?" "I wouldn't be opposed to it. This was enjoyable." Esredes said. "I'm glad to hear it!" "Me too," said the other one. "I'm glad we didn't scare you off. You seem like an interesting person."

By the end of the dinner, Esredes still didn't know why these two invited him out, or really much about them at all. What he did know is he had an entire day's worth of food to eat over the course of tomorrow, and he didn't have to pay for any of it.

Having a small stomach had its perks sometimes.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 14: Telling

Silence was golden, and frustration was red. Secrets were one of the most powerful and common currencies in Ishgard: everyone had them, they were often dangerous, and they were oh, so valuable. People paid good money for them, and he sent off his people to acquire them all the time. It was exactly because of this notion he hoped everyone would understand how you kept them close to your chest.

But his people... were not the brightest. Heilyn once walked over to their crowded table in The Forgotten Knight and asked if this was the heretic table, in front of a loyalist. Rae once told an Inquisitor in training that Esredes had a little brother despite him desperately trying to get him to shut up. And the amount of times they gave up being a dragon to other parties and it resulted in Esredes being investigated- well, it didn't number zero.

And then there was Esredes himself. You see, Esredes thought himself clever, and most people around him very dense. People were absorbed into their own spaces, and didn't pay attention to the things Esredes told them. It meant he could get away with a lot more. Or so he thought. He was out in Camp Broken Glass. There was some Pureblood woman with some fancy high rank she introduced herself with in armor who was telling him about how Corvos enslaved her ancestors. He was behaving. He tried, as he always did at first, to be understanding and relate on empathy. "It's been a thousand years since my ancestors were burned in dragonfire and a single woman defied the odds to unify two people. But that fear has, and may never, leave my people, I fear. As much as I wish it would." He tilted his head a little at her. "Though I respect avoiding the question of what truly scares you, if you ever had need of it, I would offer my own advice on how to deal with being terrified of everyone and everything around you. I know it's not easy." He shuts his eyes and breathes out. "I have little relief from it, so I've had to learn a lot." "I answered the question of what fears me," she said. "I believe I said it earlier. Being displaced from our ancestral homeland time and agai-" The woman let out a breath. "Ah. You're a so-called heretic." Esredes' blood turned icier out in the cold. "Yes, I studied Eorzean culture and history while in school. It was...interesting to say the least. Ishgard's and Garlemald's history of oppressing those with differing viewpoints and stances isn't too dissimilar." "...That was quite a conclusion to jump to." Esredes said. He could save this, of course he could. There was no way this Garlean who was going on about how woe it was that her ancestors got driven out picked up on that. "I do not believe I have said anything about myself for such conclusions, but, I like to collect the portraits people paint of me." He shrugged. "Well, your people conquered them, yes? What fear is left now that they were completely subjugated? Does it linger even when you win?" Change the subject. He'd take this horrible discussion of subjugation and conquering being justified if it meant keeping her away from his secret. How? How would she have studied their history? Wouldn't it just be full of lies? And why would she of all people even care to pay attention? It just went to show him that he needed to stick to his own rule. Secrets were never to be told, hinted at, or even alluded to. One Pureblood wasn't going to make a consequence of difference, she clearly didn't care at all for what he said- but what happened the moment his need to indirectly relate to people to make a point was told on the wrong person? Esredes steeled his heart, and quieted the voice he was never meant to use. He couldn't keep a secret if he was dead, after all.

[crimsonfluidessence]

Prompt 13: Butte

Esredes trekked his way along with the rest of the camp, carrying the remains of what he recovered from their previous location on his back or under his arm. For a small mercy, it wasn't winter, and that made it far easier to traverse the hills of Coerthas as they searched for somewhere else to put down their uprooted collective. He tucked the book further under his arm- the only one to his name now, a simple guide to the plant life out here with inked illustrations. He'd had the sense to grab it before the thaumaturges set the camp on fire.

A shudder went up his spine at the fragmented memory he'd rather not recall, and he pressed forward. Three days now, that they'd been traveling on foot like this. They didn't have enough capable of flight to make a journey by air- at most they kept sending them out to scout ahead and return. "There's a hill west of here that looks promising," one of them said today. "Let's survey it." Esredes was not on scout duty today, so he kept his eyes on the sky to follow them along as the party moved. A much larger hill could be far better for hiding themselves away to prevent being raided again, but what were the chances it was uninhabited? Close enough to a water source? Every little logistical thought filled his head, for it was all he could do to keep other ones away. One foot in front of the other, over and over in a rhythmic pattern of a sort, head always turning to be sure of their surroundings, hyper-aware of how the others around him moved. Was anyone limping? Did anyone fall behind, or pause, or start coughing? They'd been through enough these past few days, any sign of weakness could be a massive problem.

(more later!)