---

Galahad's shoulders heaved as he panted, winded and a bit battered, but otherwise no worse for wear. His once pristine armor had splashes of Blightbeast icor covering it, and his forearm bore his own blood from the bite he had received earlier, but all things considered things were going well. He had overexerted himself a bit by jumping too much, but the beasts had been beaten back, and the party lay in a field of freshly cut grass, surrounded by the corpses of the vile creatures. The rest of the party seemed to be faring just as well too, mostly minor injuries and scrapes obtained from the nature of battling up close and personal with monsters, but nothing to write home about.

Galahad snorted as the gunbreaker remarked about being kept on their toes. "I'll be sure to write the beasts. Knowing them, I'm sure they'd be happy to ambush us at every waking moment."

Pulling his helmet off, Galahad shook his head, freeing his hair from its confines. He glanced around with a frown, the beasts were already so close to the heart of Edren. Even during his travels to Balmung, the beasts had not bothered his traveling group, but now they were striking in force. He wondered if there was any rhyme or reason to the attacks- any intelligence behind their rampage. Whether they picked out what they believed to be targets of opportunity or just anything that came into sight.

"I'll find the chocobos." Galahad said with a sigh, "Keep your wits about you, the beasts might just be feigning a retreat. Once we've regrouped we should find a place to camp out."

Cleanup after the battle was brief. They collected Goug from his hiding place, Neve treated what wounds the party took, and they moved on several paces, not wanting to settle down to camp for the night amidst Blightbeast corpses. As a result, the party continued to ride for a few more paces, stopping to create another clearing when it was closer to sundown.

For all his pageantry, Lord Leonhardt certainly hadn't spared any expense when it came to supplying the teams. When the party finally had the chance to make camp, they found that everything the average traveling group would need had been accounted for. Tents, bedrolls, trail rations, skins of heavily watered alcohol, and more. Although it still rankled at her to take the generosity of what had been a mortal enemy to her just half a decade ago, Izayoi nonetheless made use of the supplies without complaint.

Once the tents were set up, Team Kirin found themselves sitting down over dinner outside. A fire was out of the question, considering the utterly flammable grass around them. Furthermore, there wasn't much to forage either. So they were settling for the rations that had been packed in the wagon. Smoked sausages, hard cheeses, dried fruits, honey, and biscuits of hard travel bread. All in all, while it was no substitute for a hot meal, Izayoi had certainly eaten worse on the road in her time.

She hungrily scarfed down her portion of the rations, utterly uncaring of manners now that they weren't in a formal setting. Afterwards, she glanced up, starting to speak even if some others were still eating.

"We've not sorted out the watch order yet. I will volunteer to take first watch. Do we intend on having three or four watches throughout the night?" She asked of the group as a whole, though her gaze turned to Galahad, given that he was the one in charge.

Galahad was right. Though they had fended off most of the Blightbeasts, there was still the chance of being pursued by another pack. Neve tenderly made her way over to Galahad and Arton, making sure not to place too much weight on her injured ankle, before she got to temporarily mending the worst of their wounds. More would have to be done once they made camp, much to her disappointment. Helping people came naturally to her, but she hardly rested the night prior. She was lucky she hadn’t fallen asleep on chocoboback; she could only hope that she was able to get a good night’s rest when she laid her head upon her cot.

Eliane and Galahad were kind enough to retrieve their birds. Goug arrived with them; the poor moogle was shaken and his fur stood on end as if he had been struck by lightning. Neve helped him back into the saddle of his draught chocobo, which he thanked her for profusely. It was when she mounted her own that a bolt of complaint shot over her ankle. A ripple ran over her lip as she raised the hem of her robes. Muddled russet wept from the leather around her boots. A grumble left her as she lowered her staff and held the tip against the leaking wound. The Cure spell took more energy out of her than she liked.

They traveled for a while longer until they made camp under a black sky powdered with stars. A belly full of cheese and honey brought Neve to the brink of dozing off in the dirt. She caught herself nodding off on more than one occasion, and when she almost tipped over she shook her head and dragged herself to her feet. No, no. She couldn’t fall asleep yet. There was still more work to do. She trudged towards Izayoi and Galahad, shielding a wide yawn with the palm of her hand and blinking blearily as she approached.

“Before anyone takes the first watch, I need to re-check Galahad’s wounds,” she murmured. ”I wasn’t able to get a good look at them back on the road.”

Neve turned her tired gaze to the dragoon expectantly. She hoped that his injuries hadn’t gotten infected; if that was the case, they would need further medical attention.

Arton's armor was catered for fighting blight-beasts so beyond some bruising and superficial cuts, he came out of the battle fairly well. The party had really come together taking them down but more importantly it showed the young swordsman he still had a long way to go. There was something about the way Izayoi fought that resonated with him, more than the techniques themselves. As they broke for camp, Arton was set on figuring it out.

He had worked hard helping to set up camp and had an appetite to match his efforts. Arton ate with a smile and overall seemd to be in a cheerful mood. It was like a victory feast amidst comrades, meager as it might be. Arton approached Izayoi shortly after they had finished eating and the details of the watch had been decided. There was a slight nervousness in his eyes, unsure how to bring up his request "I don't think I've seen anyone move like that before."

"Hm?" Izayoi looked up where she was sitting, her blade on her lap as she tended to it. From the nervous glint in his eyes, she mentally resigned herself to listening to something most likely foolish again for the second time that day.

"In what manner? You have not seen the effects of a Haste spell before?" She poured a small measure of oil onto a cloth and began running it over her sword.

"No, uh, I have seen it a couple times but..." The look in her eyes reminded him of earlier. Izayoi did not seem fond of wasted time and frivolous words. His chances would fare better if he were direct. Arton lowered himself onto his knees and sat on the heels of his feet, hands resting above his knees "I wish for you to train me."

Of all the things Izayoi had been expecting Arton to say, this hadn't been one of them. The last time she'd even considered taking on a student of her own had been years and years ago, long before the war. And that had been cut short when others realized exactly what training entailed to her.

"An odd decision. We do not use similar armament, and from what I have seen, our preferred styles of fighting are practically opposite. Are you certain you have thought this through?"

Arton nodded once "I'm certain! I know if I can learn from you I can grow stronger." His motivation for which he'd leave unsaid for now. It was uncomfortable to speak so plainly, without some twist of truth in his words. He fought the way he did because up until now he had no other option. His stoic face betrayed the steady increasing of his heartbeat.

Izayoi only regarded Arton silently in response, a single brow lifted. Her own misgivings about her training methods aside, there wasn't exactly any reason for her to say no. If they were to continue to travel together for extended periods of time, making Arton stronger would only benefit her own goals. That, and it wasn't as if she'd had anything better to do during periods of downtime.

"Very well. I have no objections to this, though I am obligated to give you a warning: I can only train you as I have been taught. There is a reason why I have never had a student last beyond a month. As I have been told, my methods are 'insane and reckless'. " She lifted her hands from maintaining her katana to deliver the last three words in air quotes before returning to cleaning her weapon.

Arton's went wide as he was hit with a bit of shock, expecting more resistance to his request. The warning did manage to put a brief twist in his stomach but not enough to sway his determination. This training was cleary not for the faint of heart. All Arton had to do was to think of that day and he immediately found his resolve. A day that controls his dreams, steers his choices, and forever altered his fate.

"A month? It seems I have my first goal then." He enthusiastically declared. Everything he had come to understand about Izayoi made it clear that month would be one of the hardest of his life. He was ready to walk through hell if it meant that he could protect those closest to him. That he would not fail them because he was too weak to do anything.

One side of Izayoi's mouth curved up briefly in seeming amusement. The man's eagerness was akin to watching a puppy. It remained to be see whether his enthusiasm remained after even a week of training.

"We will begin when we camp in more secure environs, then. Running you ragged now would be akin to signing your death warrant in the event of another Blightbeast attack tonight. The majority of my techniques are unsuited to the cut and thrust of southron swords, but you will benefit from the conditioning nonetheless. I trust this is acceptable?"

"Of course!" He said with a bright smile "I suppose resting is the practical thing to do tonight. It has been awhile since I've camped without keeping one eye open." His gaze turned idly to the night sky and the stars that had woken from their slumber. Izayoi's training would bring him a step closer to being worthy of his family name. It was only then he could return home.

"Very good." Izayoi nodded curtly, before deciding to give voice to a thought that was still in the back of her mind. "Though why come to me to be trained? Any of our number outside of the mages could have done the same. The gunbladers would likely have swordplay more suited for yourself as well." She removed the rag from her blade, inspecting it briefly before nodding to herself in satisfaction as she returned it to its scabbard.

The question gave Arton pause, and the light expression faded slowly faded form himself "The easy answer would be because it is so different from mine." He stopped for a brief moment before continuing. "Truthfully, I feel there is more to learn than just techniques from you. I guess you might call it a state of mind or...philosophy. I don't know." He shifted off his knees to sit more comfortably.

Philosophy? How quaint. Arton might have fit in well in some samurai circles, as introspective as he seemed to be. Probably better than she had, among some of the more spiritual ones. Her master had never had any use for such thinking, and had never imparted anything resembling such aside from "kill your enemy before it kills you".

"You'll find I have little to offer in that regard." Izayoi stood, hooking her sheathed sword back into her sash. "Derive what answers you will from me, though I have nothing to teach in terms of philosophy outside of aggression and how best to hunt prey. But the hour grows late. Rest. I have the first watch."

That was where Arton had to disagree with his new master. The killer instinct that possesed Izayoi was something he hoped to acquire if not understand. Doubt regarding his methods had planted itself deep in his mind, unable to be dislodged. That may have been why he had been so furious when she exexcuted that man during the castle siege. Clarity on such thoughts would not be gained tonight.

"I'll try to get some sleep before I come relieve you." He stood up as well, fighting back a yawn as his body stretched. "May your eyes remain sharp as your blade." Arton smiled towards Izayoi before he headed off in the direction of one of the tents. He wondered if tomorrow would be as much excitement. Their quest was sure to only get more difficult the closer they got to the answers.

---

Éliane had been surprised to see that their itinerant moogle had made it out physically unscathed despite the violent melee, although she doubted the same was for his fur and mental state. Well, she was sure the little man would be fine after a few days, a brush, and some drink, no biggie. More importantly, she and Galahad had been able to recover the chocobos—by some miracle, they too had been unharmed, and hadn’t been scattered to the point of loss.

Like any sensible party, they made camp some ways away from the fight. To her annoyance, a campfire was not an option; there would be no easy hot brews of coffee for her, a fact made all the worse since she expected to take watch for the night. Where was that black mage that could easily solve that issue for her? In fact… where had he been during the entire battle?

Nonetheless, the respite was welcome. A good meal after going hunting was made all the better by the way Lord Leonhardt had their provisioning arranged, and the food that was available in the wagon was nearly fit for a lesser feast, even if Éliane still found the quality of the bread wanting.

Even if there were only so many ways to bake hard tack.

After tearing into the food, she had to stare longingly at the coffee beans she had in her pouch, before deciding to just pop some in her mouth.

“Watches? It’s all the same to me,” she shrugged. “I’ll take whatever.”

They woke early the next morning, when the light from the sun hardly broke through the stormy mists and permeated the dew on the grass. As always, they clustered together as they traveled. Goug’s wagon stayed in the center, and from her position on chocobo-back, Neve noticed that the poor moogle’s bobble jerked at any violent rustle of grass. The previous night’s attack must have jarred him– then again, she wouldn’t be surprised if they all had been bothered by the apparition of the Blightbeasts. She clutched her reins and moved on.

Neve was fully awake and refreshed by the time they departed the Stormseas. What was once a seemingly endless field of emerald had withered away to dirt paths and massive quarries. Her eyes widened as she drank in the sight of the pale stone walls that encompassed the deep pits. Men and women in dark blue uniforms darted back and forth at the very bottom of the quarries, crying out orders as heavy, four-wheeled machina helped haul coal from the depths of the mines. Acrid smells of oil and dirt and coal assaulted her senses, and she wrinkled her nose as they remained steadfast on the narrow paths. How could people tolerate the stench? It had to burn the throat and scorch the lungs… she wondered if they ever became ill from spending so much time in the quarries.

Luckily for the party, they only had to loop around a small handful of them and the powerful smell vanished from Neve’s nose as the mountains towered above their heads. The buildings of Midgar rose along with them; tall, yet staunch things that were crafted from wood and hefty stone alike. Yet, their size didn’t compare to the backdrop of the snow-capped mountains not far from the city’s farthest borders. Silvery peaks seemed to scrape the sky itself, and no matter how far Neve tipped her head back, she just couldn’t pinpoint their summits against the dark gray skies.

Midgar itself appeared to be an impressive city, at the very least. Besides the large buildings, dirt roads unraveled in front of them and chocobo were neatly tied to steel hitching posts. Civilians of all kinds meandered back and forth– they called out from storefronts, sipped coffee together as they lingered around cafes, and rushed back and forth on chocobo-back with packages hooked onto their saddles. Bright, colorful neon signs flickered from their perches at windows and large store-signs. It was different than Balmung, but also similar in a way. It seemed that all of Edren’s cities and towns bore the same amount of urgency and unrest.

Neve sniffed and rubbed her nose as their lot headed for the closest unoccupied hitching post. Wind gusted about them again and nagged at her hair and flooded her ears. She rubbed the side of her head in complaint as she cast a confused glance up at the turbulent skies above. ”It’s going to storm… and bad, looks like,” she mumbled to no one in particular.

”Thank the Mother we made it here before it did, kupo. Midgar’ll provide us with shelter,” Goug said as his stubby paws deftly helped tie hers. His glittering eyes flicked across their number and gave them a twitch of his nose. ”Which means you’ll have time for leisure here, kupo. Go on, hurry off. I’ll take care of everything here.”

Midgar. She'd nearly taken this city once. Izayoi stared up at the buildings as they approached, her mind taking her back five years in the past. The march on Midgar had been her one strategic masterstroke, intent on carving a decisive advantage for Osprey in a single blow. Her army passed through a lesser-used mountain path and flooded into Edrenian land on a beeline to Midgar. The Edrenians were caught between a rock and a hard place, unable to halt their invasion and march home without exposing their flanks to Osprean forces and risking a total rout.

If the other Osprean generals had done their jobs properly, it would have turned out far differently. Instead, one particular glory hog by the name of Takahashi had disregarded his orders completely and joined the counter-invasion from the main roads, thinking to move quickly enough that their absence wouldn't be missed. As a result...

___

"Is this a joke?" General Izayoi narrowed her eyes within the siege camp, her helmet tucked under her shoulder as she glared daggers at the trembling messenger.

"N-no, my lady! General Takahashi disregarded orders and attempted to enter Edren through the main roads. The Edrenians caught wind of the manuever and routed his forces from the rear. All reports indicate his death."

Izayoi sucked in a deep breath, her expression turning thunderous. Behind her, the city of Midgar was within sight, her army's siege towers and trebuchets finishing the final touches on their construction. They were so close! A single day more, and they could have stormed the walls. But to assault the city now was tactical suicide. There was an army on their heels. A just-taken city wouldn't hold against an attacking force. And even if the army to their rear was routed, she knew for a fact that reinforcements from Balmung were already massing, the Royal Guard among them. No, they didn't have the strength to continue this campaign. At best, she could salvage something from this by destroying the forces that had killed Takahashi, may he burn in the hells, before retreating back into Osprey.

"Then General Takahashi is fortunate he is no longer alive to face the Emperor's judgement. You are dismissed." Izayoi turned away from the messenger, already barking orders for the army to prepare to march home.
___

Her forces had utterly slaughtered the pursuing Edrenians, taking them by surprise as they'd expected to fall against a besieging army looking in the opposite direction. Cold comfort as their sole chance to retake the offensive in the war had slipped away from one man's hunger for glory. She'd even inadvertently avenged him. With a sigh, she forced herself to shove the memories aside for the moment. Dwelling on this was less than productive.

Izayoi tucked the brim of her hat down as she wrapped a brown traveling cloak from the wagon around herself, so as to hide her robes and sword. By all accounts, Osprean wanderers weren't too uncommon in the city these days, considering the state of their homeland, but prudence was wise regardless.

And speaking of such, Izayoi turned to face the rest of the party.

"It would be unwise to use my given name within the city. I doubt many would recognize my face, but a mystel samurai with my name would raise too much attention. For the time being, refer to me as...Suzume, if you must." She hesitated for a moment in choosing an alias, but her daughter's name would have to do. Izayoi had never been a particularly good liar, but Suzume's name was one she would certainly respond to if called out. "Now," Izayoi looked to Galahad. Even without being the nominal leader of the party, this was his hometown. It made sense to defer to him.

"What are we to do for lodging? I understand that you most likely should return to your home, but are the rest of us to join you, or ought we find an inn?"

Hiding who she was in a foreign land, operating under a false name...Imir help her, she really was turning into her master.

---

(The night before)

Finding a place to camp out wasn’t too difficult, after a while the sea of grasses became just that- a sea. It was easy for a group as small as theirs to disappear in such a vast area. They’d found a particularly tall portion of grasses, high enough to cover the top of the wagon, before cutting out a small clearing for them to actually rest in. The tall blades of the emerald grasses could be folded to supplement their cots, and could be cleaned and used as rudimentary bandages, or, if Galahad had any talent for it, be used to be weaved into baskets and the like.

A fire would’ve been good for morale, but the smoke would allow anyone to spot them from miles away in the cloudless night, and so Team Kirin ate their meal in the relative darkness of the night, save for a lantern hooked to the front of the wagon itself. They’d have to put it out before they began their rest for the night, but at least for the moment, the light was a welcome reprieve from the darkness.

Looking up from the bits of his meal, Izayoi had already began to ask about watch. Their group was small, and everyone needed adequate sleep to perform properly, but especially out in the wilderness, night watch was a common task. Before Galahad could reply, Neve interjected, asking to check his wounds. Galahad’s first instinct was to decline, but he winced as he looked down at his arm. He’d managed to bind them with bandages during their travel, but he hadn’t had the time to actually get them treated- and who knew what kind of wounds a blightbeast could leave. Even if he was fine now, he needed to be at 100% if he was going to do anything properly for the party.

”I’ll take first watch.” Galahad informed Izayoi, and the party at large, ”It seems I’ll be up for a bit longer anyway,” he reasoned. ”Our group is small, 4 watches of 2 hours each should give everyone an adequate amount of rest.”

With Neve approaching, Galahad grabbed his bedroll from the pack and laid it out on the dirt so she would have a place to sit. Prying off his armguard, Galahad undid the bandage and squinted at his wound, angry purple marks formed wide arcs on the his skin- it was lucky he was wearing armor, or he’d have lost the arm.

”Sorry to have provided you with more work,” Galahad apologized to the white mage, with a faint, rueful smile, ”Thank you.”

Neve sat down on the bedroll quietly as Galahad removed his armguard. Humming, she leaned close to look over the wound with fresh eyes and without the worry of being swarmed a second time. She reached out to feel the wound with gentle fingers, seeking any sign of fever or abnormal pain. Fortunately for him, an infection hadn’t set in. She let out a sigh of relief before she settled more comfortably on the fabric and raised her staff slightly.

The Cure spell’s glow was enough to fill the space between them in a gentle light as discolored skin began to fade away. ”No need to thank me. It’s my job,” she said without looking up. ”Which means that you don’t have to apologize, either.”

"Well, thank you anyway ." Galahad insisted, a bit teasingly. What discomfort was on his face quickly melted away as the wound closed up, the tall dragoon seemingly surprised by the soothing nature of the spell.

"Good as new." Galahad mused, examining the arm himself for a short moment. Had he not been staring at the wound the moment prior, it's quite possible he'd never even notice it. The only remaining sign that Galahad had been hurt was the small punctures in his arm guard. Out from his side, he pulled out a skin of sweet honeyed mead- some of his own personal stock instead of a part of the rations Leonhart had sent along with them. He took a short sip of it before handing the skin to the young white mage.

"Don't tell anyone else." the dragoon chuckled lightly with a wink, "I'm not keen on sharing. Not with everyone anyway."

She was more than relieved to see that the gaping wound healed without much trouble. Neve lowered her staff and drew in a breath as she raised her hand to tuck a wild strand of hair behind her ear. That was one person taken care of… she nodded her head and made to leave before she was interrupted by Galahad’s kind gesture. Already, she could smell the familiar aroma of honey mead.

Neve’s smile grew softer as she accepted the skin and tipped the opening against her lips. As she drank deep, its sweet flavor flooded her senses and made the load on her shoulders grow lighter. It wasn’t long before she held out the skin back to him as her eyes warmly met his. ”You’re too kind to offer me what little mead you have left,” she murmured. ”But thank you. I haven’t had such sweet honey mead since I left Brightlam.”

”I think sealing a hole in my arm is a fair price for it,” Galahad chuckled lightly, returning the leather skin to its spot on his pack. ”I can restock once we get to Midgar, my family owns an apiary- I’m sure they won’t mind sparing a cask, given the gravity of what we’re setting out to do.”

”Brightlam?”, Galahad asked curiously, ”You’re from Drana Asnaeu then? I think you’re the first person I’ve actually spoken to from there.”

“You’re a long way from home then- though I suppose that could be said for many of us.”

The thought of having such a sweet concoction readily available during their travels was… oddly soothing. Neve didn’t like drinking much, but the sweetness and light flavor of the mead was enough to convince her to sip deep from a flagon. ”Yes, I’ve come quite a ways from home. I was sent by the Grovemasters to help find the cause of the Blight and to tend to it.” She lowered her eyes. ”You must miss home as much as I do. I can only hope our journey isn’t too long and we’re all able to return safely.”

”I feel a little guilty, honestly.” Galahad chuckled bitterly, ”Everyone else here is leaving their homes, yet here we are, marching towards my own.”

The irony wasn’t lost on him, Galahad wondered if anyone felt as though it was unfair, that the first stop in their journey was in fact Galahad’s home town, still more or less safe from the greater ravages of the blight, while their own homes may have been struggling or already lost. Would they think he was entitled or spoiled? Perhaps it didn’t help that of everyone here, Galahad was probably one of the few, if only that didn’t want to return home yet.

”I’m from Midgar, my father rules the city.” Galahad explained, ”I suppose that means I’ll be home sooner than expected. Not expecting much of a homecoming though- my father’s been a bit distant since the war.”

“On the bright side, we shouldn’t expect any issues with cooperation or obtaining supplies.” Galahad chuckled, ”Nobility has at least a few perks.”

Neve had almost forgotten that Galahad was of noble-blood. For a moment, she felt anxiety trickle through her in response, but she swallowed the hard lump in her throat and drowned the sensation with another sip of honey mead. It didn’t seem that Galahad was too keen on seeing his father again… with their luck, maybe they wouldn’t have to come across him directly. Then again, things were hardly ever that simple. She could only hope his father was easy to get along with, even if he was as aloof as Galahad warned he was.

For the first time since her departure from the castle, Neve gave Galahad a genuine smile. ”You’ll have to tell me how that’s like when you have the time. Being a noble, and all.”

”Well, what's the point of having perks of I'm not going to share?" Galahad grinned, a bit of the warmth returning to his voice. "Other than that, the bureaucracy can be draining. The Gardens are nice though- perhaps if we're not too busy saving the world I can show you."

Reaching out, Galahad lightly patted the top of Neve's head, "In the meanwhile, you should get some rest. Pardon me if I'm being presumptuous, but you look exhausted."

Taking his skin back, Galahad took a small sip of his own before putting it away, chuckling with some measure of amusement in how little was left. He shrugged and stood up, escorting Neve the few feet back to her own bedroll.

"Goodnight, Neve."

Galahad wasn’t wrong. Even as he spoke, she could feel her eyes drooping– she was so tired that she couldn’t even muster much of a reaction when he patted her head. As Neve’s mind slowly became muddled with visions of fabulous gardens, she allowed herself to be guided to her bedroll. Yawning, she hunkered down, slipped inside, and pulled the sheets over her to guard herself from the chill of the night.

”Goodnight, Galahad. Get enough rest.” She yawned once more before she drifted off into sleep.

---

Midgar. Tall, dirty, home. The city itself didn't look too different than when Galahad left it the week prior: Roads switched between dirt and paved with little rhyme or reason, and neon signs buzzed faintly as they hung above stores, bars and coffeeshops. Chocobos and wagons clattered and splashed down wide thoroughfares, muddy roads too busy to be closed down long enough to repave. Factories far along the outskirts belched thick black smoke up into the air, coal for power, and steel for forges mined and smelted in great quantities to feed the needs of a city and its nation. It lacked the pristine and clean look of Balmung, and despite being a major city still looked like more of a backwater than the notable hub that it was.

More than one pair of eyes noticed the dragoon as he and his compatriots as they hitched their animals. More soldiers walked around the streets than Galahad expected, perhaps blightbeasts have been becoming more common since he left. Still, there was signs of life about the city, which Galahad was thankful for. A busker with a gravelly bass voice strummed a slightly out of tune instrument on the side of the road, while patrons of a coffee shop nearby made casual conversation over drinks, which mixed with the blare of a jukebox out of a bar and the general din of a crowd going about their afternoon.

Galahad looked over as Izayoi brought him out of his reverie, making it clear that they should avoid using her given name. A fair enough thought- though few would have recognized her face at this point, most of the soldiery would remember the name, or one of her other nicknames. Even if she was their ally for the moment, Galahad doubted it would to much to settle the nerves of anyone that recognized her.

"I'd prefer not to spend more time in Midgar than we have to," Galahad admitted, "But I should report to my father what has happened in Balmung. He'll be able to restock our supplies, and change out our birds for less noticeable ones."

"As far as lodging, my family owns a hunting lodge near the outskirts of the city. It used to be where the Dragoons assembled before dragon hunts, but its the 'off' season, as most dragons don't return until the warmer months. Plus, since the war we've not had the numbers, so its more or less empty these days." Galahad offered, "Best place to avoid prying eyes and ears, though there are several inns along the main road if anyone fancies that more."

Pulling his helmet off and shaking his head, Galahad's face scrunched at the smells of the city- an entirely normal reaction to one entering the city of industry, even for a Midgar native. Even just the week away from home was long enough for him to forget the earthy smells of the city.

"Don't ask me for a tour, but here's as good of a place as any if anyone needs arms and armor to be repaired or obtained. We're not here to sight see, but Midgar is known for its coffee shops.

---

In the end, Éliane had taken third watch to a thankfully very uneventful night. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t like eventful days. But there was a time and place for eventfulness, and bedtime was not one of those times. But there were no blightbeasts, bandits, or even nightmares, and the day broke soon enough. It seemed like some of her companions had enjoyed a better night’s rest than the others, as she glanced over towards Arton as everybody woke up to greet the morning at the end of her watch.

The rest of the journey to Midgar had been slightly inconvenient on account of the heavy industry they passed, but it was nothing Éliane wasn’t familiar with back home, only more concentrated. As they approached the city proper, she took in its sights, comparing them with what she knew in Solitude. It was a dirtier, grimier place than the Skaelan capital, and the more temperate climate didn’t help, allowing some of the smog from industry to linger more than its counterparts in her country did compared to its colder climes. Objectively, like Balmung, it was an inferior city to any in Skael, but it had some very obvious upsides that weren’t as common back home.

The abundance of coffee houses.

The quantity and variety of available coffee.

Éliane knew that they wouldn’t be spending too much time here, but before she left, she had to try at least a few coffee houses. She cursed the oncoming rain; if it weren’t for the weather, she would have been prepared to do a coffee shop crawl right then and there as she tied her chocobo to an available post along with the others. With the talk of inns and planning, she decided to join the conversation.

“Spending a few weeks here trying out the coffee shops sounds like a fun idea to me,” she bluntly replied, but she nodded at Galahad’s offer of lodging via his family. It sounded like it was out of the way, but free was a great equalizer. It was then that she caught Arton staring at her with a strange expression. Giving him a bit of side-eye at first, she tilted her head in mild confusion before frowning as he turned away. What was that about? She decided she would have to ask the fellow Skaelan about it later. If he had problems with her, then she didn’t want it becoming a greater issue in the future given their mission.

But for now… She fixed the dragoon with an intense stare of her own. “Galahad. Tell me more about the coffee shops. What are the best places to visit?”

---

Arton shared a sentiment to a certain city in Skael, one which he luckily hadn't travelled through in sometime. He expected their reasons for such feelings were drastically different. What caught his attention more than coffee was the mention of repairing equipment. He wondered if there was a local smithy that would allow him to use their forge. The rest of the group seemed intent on travelling to a cafe and the idea did seem appealing with the coming storm. A warm drink tasted better with the sounds of rainfall he believed. Arton had to agree with Leifur on the timeframe they were to spend here. Every day that they wasted was lives lost to the blight. However, he understood that they were still relative strangers that would soon depend on each other to finish their quest. This was a chance to forge bonds that would carry them through the darkest of nights.

He looked over to the shop that Neve had been drawing attention to. The atmosphere was inviting and it was not as though they were going anywhere immediately "Well I did say that I'd buy somethin' for the capt'n and that place over there seems like a good start to our tour of Midgar." He suggested strongly to the party. The distant crackle of thunder boomed in the skies above them "Come on, I'll go grab us a table on the second floor." Arton enthusiastically waved for them to follow, walking ahead to the building so that he could hold the door open for the party. Arton's eyes scanned all over the street as he made his way over, taking in the vibrant appearance of the city. He felt and looked completely out of place, more so than he had back in Balmung.

The wandering swordsman had spent the better part of five years camping out and fighting fighting blight-beasts in the countryside of Edren and along the border of Osprey. There were rare nights where a generous family let him sleep in a spare room but those were far and few between. His company most days were farmers and local artisans, imparting a bit of their culture on him little by little. The sights, smells, and sounds of the city came nearly to overloading his senses. He hadn't made his mind up yet whether he found the crowded streets oppressive or exciting.

---

It seemed like coffee was the order of the day, Galahad concluded as the others chimed in on the idea of visiting coffee shops. He couldn't lie, taking rest when it came was important, and it wasn't as though Galahad was partial to coffee himself- who knows when they'd be able to come back after all. They might die in Osprey, what with the Valheim out there. The opinions were varied, a few seemed excited at the idea, while others- like Leifur seemed less enthused. Galahad couldn't help but chuckle as the gruff viera commented on how the coffee shops here couldn't have been that different from one another.

"Well, Leifur, you'd be right and wrong about that." Galahad commented, "Since all of these shops are more or less in competition with each other, a lot of them will try to stand out from the crowd with all manner of gimmicks and novelties. Unfortunately, they often eschew quality in pursuit of said novelties. As a result, they all start feeling rather samey- they're tourist traps, really."

Glancing over at the coffee shop that Neve had pointed out, Galahad nodded approvingly. "It appears our Neve has an eye for quality," Galahad chuckled, "My local opinion says that the best shops are the homier ones, that don't try to wow you with Dragonscale infused beans or Cactaur-nettle blends- like this one."

The coffee shop in question, was a hospitable, if small little building, built mostly of faded brick and warm woods. A sign above the door noted the shop's name as "Mara & Malen's". Most of its seating consisted of outdoor seating, both outside the shop by the street, and on the second floor and its adjoining balcony. The main floor itself displayed itself mostly as a storefront. Low shelves and tables laden with freshly baked breads, cakes and pastries formed a small aisle that one could take a tray and walk through, picking out what they wanted before reaching the coffee bar and till. The coffee bar in question was a mess of grinders and coffee machines, with quaint menus and prices listed out on hand written boards on the wall.

A short, older mystrel woman with prominent grey streaks in her hair waved at them as Arton pulled the door open, the scent of fresh bread and coffee cutting clean through whatever stench was lining the streets. "Welcome to Mara & Malen's." The woman greeted warmly, "Ah! Lord Caradoc, what a pleasant surprise! Welcome, make yourself at home."

Galahad nodded and smiled faintly at the woman as he ducked beneath the admittedly low frame of the door, gesturing towards the rest of the party to enter as well. "Hello there Mara, I've brought a few companions with me today, go ahead and add them to my tab."

"I recommend the flan," Galahad commented to Arton idly as they waited for the rest of the party.

She held no strong feelings about cities in general, having spent half her career as Lord Kaien's retainer in Kugane, but Midgar was easily the most repulsive one she'd ever been to. For as much as Izayoi could say against the entire realm of Edren, at least Balmung was rather aesthetic. Midgar was repulsive and stank of smoke. The stench hadn't quite kicked on on their approach, as absorbed in memories of the past as she was, but now? Izayoi wrinkled her nose, following after the rest of the group as they decided to take shelter in some coffee shop.

Izayoi wasn't necessarily opposed to taking a day or two within the city. As much as she wished to rush to Osprey at all speed, they still had to resupply and prepare for the journey ahead. Any more than that would be needless delay. In the meantime...

She was fairly certain she'd never had coffee before. The smell as they entered the shop was certainly unfamiliar, though it was far more preferable to the smoke and stench outside. Given that she'd spent her entire life in Osprey, tea had been her obvious drink of choice. Her master had preferred black tea when available, claiming it was one of the only things he enjoyed from his homeland, whereever that had been. In truth, she'd picked up a taste for the same as well in her youth. A shame few tea shops in Kugane even carried black teas.

Fortunate that they had the son of the city's lord in their party. Every little bit mattered when it came to scrimping on gil, and she'd not turn her nose at receiving something for free. Although the menus were...confusing. Whatever these coffee drinks were, they were listed off in names she'd never heard of before. What in the mothercrystal's name was a cappuccino? Furrowing her brow, Izayoi sidled next to Eliane, briefly murmuring to her.

"You enjoy these drinks, correct? I've not partaken of coffee before, and I recognize very little of these menus. Would you have any suggestions in particular?"

@Click This

---

Seeing Leifur’s surprise at her comments, the redheaded Skaelan began to enlighten him on the variety and differences of coffee. “Not quite,” she began to lecture grandly, “Two cups of coffee can very different from each other. They can be almost two different drinks entirely, depending on where the beans are from, how you roast them, and the method of actually brewing the coffee, and that’s not mentioning how you like to take your coffee,” Éliane insisted. “I can absolutely spend several weeks here and not get bored trying out the variety.”

It was clear that Éliane could just about go on for the rest of the day about her beverage of choice, but she was interrupted by some of her party members, who at least agreed with her that it was a good idea. The gunbreaker nodded enthusiastically about this, and with the overcast sky, hurried over to the shop that Neve and Galahad had pointed out. She had frowned at some of Galahad’s comments, hoping that they weren’t true tourist traps.

The coffee shop they chose was suitably cozy, with cute pastries and the pleasant smell of both baking and coffee. It didn’t hold up against her own family’s shop in her mind, but it was clearly a well-cared for shop.

Éliane found herself being crowded by Izayoi and Leifur again. Apparently, they were rubes who had no idea about coffee. Well, she could continue her lecturing from before…

“Absolutely,” she nodded towards the mystrel woman. “Midgard’s known for regional variety of preparing coffee, which makes for a stronger, somewhat more thick brew,” she commented. “It’s particularly good with something called condensed milk, though I usually prefer my coffee just black.”

Tapping the table, she continued, “I would probably recommend the cappuccino you’re staring at on the menu. It’s espresso—foamed with steamed milk. With some sugar it’s a very inoffensive drink,” she nodded sagely. A flat white is similar to a latte, which is…”

The coffee-lover continued to go on.

"Fine. The cappuccino, then." Was all Izayoi said in response to Eliane before tuning out the rest of her coffee spiel. Gods, how close the woman sounded to certain tea ceremony enthusiasts she had been familiar with. She strode up to the counter, placed her order, and joined the others at the table they'd picked out, sitting down. When the drinks arrived, Izayoi took a cautious sip of her coffee.

Hm. Entirely foreign and unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. It certainly wasn't something she'd want to consume regularly, but every once in a while, Izayoi could see herself wanting a beverage such as this.

"Not unsatisfactory." Izayoi noted aloud, affording Eliane a brief nod of regard. "Perhaps there is something of worth to this drink after all."

"Um, Izayoi, how about we-" Neve cut herself off, raising a hand to cover her mouth as Izayoi scowled in response.

"I told you one simple thing, and you could not even-" She snapped, but was cut off by one of the customers in the booth next to them dropping his mug, looking at her in unabashed horror.

"Y-you..." The burly man stammered, to which Izayoi raised an eyebrow.

"No. Whomever you believe me to be, I am but a wanderer." She attempted to lie through her teeth, to which the man shook his head, backing away from her.

"Liar! I know that face! Those eyes! I was at the Central Plains! Monster! Butcher! Demon!" The man screamed in hysteria, spittle flowing from his mouth before he fled the shop. Izayoi watched dispassionately as he left, sighing as the remaining eyes in the shop turned on her. One last sip of her drink, and she set it down before standing, placing her hat back atop her head.

"Perhaps I should leave first. I will seek the rest of you out later at the lodge Galahad mentioned. We may have to accelerate our timetable within this city, lest this cause problems." With that said, she wrapped her cloak around herself before starting to make her way out of the coffee shop, brushing past the startled owner.

___

Hours later, as sundown neared, each member of the party would inevitably find their way back to the lodge Galahad had pointed out. Waiting for them there, however, was a messenger in House Caradoc's livery, who knelt as soon as he beheld Galahad.

"My lord. Your father bids you to return home and join him for the evening meal. Your present party included of course. Including the, ah," He eyed Izayoi nervously, who settled for a brief narrowing of her eyes. "Person of distinction. Rumors have been buzzing for hours, you see. He wishes to verify them for himself. And for you to...explain, as it were."

His message delivered, the man rose and began to leave, likely heading back to the Caradoc manor himself. Once he did, Izayoi slid the inch of sword she'd drawn beneath her cloak back into its scabbard, turning to Galahad.

"Words cannot begin to describe how much I would prefer to not accompany you tonight. The last time I spoke to your father, I was demanding that he surrender the city to me. However, it seems that he is all but demanding our presence. If you believe my presence will be less harmful to your case than my absence, I will follow."

@Vietmyke

---

As a rabid coffee-enjoyer, Éliane was happy to see at least one other person in the group liked the beverage that they had ordered from the café. With her own coffee in hand, she had just started to enjoy its rich, foreign flavor –it was quite good, at least to her standards—that her valuable and important coffee time was interrupted and spoiled by a very rude man. At first, she gave him the stinkeye when he dropped his mug, but she actively began to scowl when he began to yell and completely ruin the peaceful café time that she was having.

Unacceptable.

“Interrupt the most sacred time of the day, will you,” she muttered, as the man ran from the shop. “You bastard! Get back here!” A moment later, and the redheaded gunbreaker followed, looking agitated enough that it was quite likely she was literally going to beat up the man in an alleyway for the disturbance.

-

When Éliane returned to the party some hours later at the Caradoc lodge, she looked suspiciously guilty of having administered a beatdown for disturbing the peace. Nonetheless, despite her slightly ruffled state, she was carrying a few small sacks of what was obviously coffee beans.

Ignoring the obvious byplay between the servant and Izayoi, she asked “Could you see us to our lodgings beforehand? It would be a good idea for us to freshen up,” she hinted.