#{ ooc: alskfjdhds //i apologize for the length you don't have to match-// }

[macuilsung]

17th of the Wyvern Moon, 1185

for @blade-of-fraldarius​​​!

How long was it since he first began this laborious trek? Forwin shuddered to put a number to the amount of time spent just walking. After his little farewell tour—just to see old friends he had made abroad one last time—took longer than he thought it would, it was meant to be a straight shot through the Dragon’s Gate and back home! But of course, it just had to take several attempts before he knew for certain he landed back in Fódlan after all these years.

Since he emerged from Lake Teutates with one hell of a fright, the wandering bard set his sights for the Oghma Mountains. Certainly, Duke Gerth’s twice-vanished only heir could travel west instead, yet ultimately he thought against it. Nerves were one reason, with Forwin having last seen his father five years ago over that business with Myson and those Dagdan fetters. That will be one awkward reunion he will have to prepare for, and right then he felt anything but prepared!

Plus, from his pitstop in the fortress city Arianrhod, he found further reason to be dissuaded from taking a detour. The musician learned that the border between the Adrestian Empire and the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was since closed and heavily militarized. Plus? Dimitri of the Blue Lions became king, then granted the Church of Seiros asylum after his ascent.

Shit, so that war is definitely still ongoing... but alas, Forwin realized it was already too late for him to lose heart and turn back for Cyrkensia. No more running, not anymore, especially not after already coming this far. Besides, his ears burned at one crucial piece of intel: the Imperial Army had been occupying Garreg Mach Monastery since the battle. Not wanting to risk getting recognized by an old Academy student or a Knight of Seiros in Faerghus, he hotfooted it south with renewed vigour.

Two months remained before the promised time of the would-have-been Millennium Festival, so the former nobleman was relieved to know he made it with several weeks to spare, in spite of the odds stacked against him! However... he did not feel ready to celebrate just yet.

The Eagles and Wolves... they should all be up there by then. Did they think him dead, after that cave-in in Abyss and his unintended otherworldly exeunt, or believe that he abandoned them all? How much has everyone changed since war was declared by the Empire? Would they still want him around after he just shows up out of the blue without explanation, after so long?

More importantly, how would Dorothea react to seeing him again...? To have disappeared on her right after finally telling her and the others everything, right before war split them up, he did not know whether to long for their reunion all the harder... or dread it.

“Right... I forgot about this last stretch,” Forwin muttered as he brought down his digits from pressing his lips, focusing on the present rather than reminiscing over an old memory involving hers. Whatever happens up in the old stomping grounds, he will only find out once he reaches the monastery proper. With only a long walk under the canopy and up the lengthy trail keeping him and the old abbey apart, excitement and anxiety both took hold of his chest once he saw the imposingly familiar structures atop the mountain range.

Heartbeat? Ringing loud and clear in his ears. Legs? Like lead trudging through molasses. His lute and travel pack? Weighing him down like never before. Goddess? Please be merciful.