The next three days following the events in Tam-Tara Deepcroft had been filled with dungeon delving and monster clearing antics. They had split up the regional dungeons and historic plazas between two groups—and they tackled each trial with finesse and control. 

Luckily the reward for doing all of these requests happened to be tons of Gil, where Roll happily contributed to the Free Companies shared pot. When everything was said and done, the eight of them decided to take a break—doing individual things to relax and recuperate before anything else bombarded them for their services. 

Azlyn decided to take her day off and check in with Baderon. She drank with him, telling him a bit of her experiences. 

“Yer makin’ a name fer yerself lass, makes me damned proud of ye.” Baderon poured her another cup of her favorite mulled wine. 

She raised the glass to him. “I owe it to you for setting me straight.” 

The proprietor waved off her praise, scoffing. “What’s on yer agenda fer today? More primal fightin’?” 

Azlyn pondered that as well. She thought of relaxing in Limsa Lominsa today given that she hadn’t spent some time with Baderon in a while. But his bar had been getting busier, so she wondered if this was a bad time to monopolize his attention. 

“Nothing primal related.” She smiled softly. “I might go check in with the Scions. See if they need anything done in the meantime.” 

Baderon smirked. “Good thing yer keeping yerself busy—I know some folk who get fame and fortune let their ego’s blow up—but yer not like them folks.” 

“Oi, Baderon! Three flagons of yer strongest gin!” 

“Baderon, we need two pints of stout ale over here!”

The proprietor shouted over to them. “Aye, hold yer damned horses—ye impatient little shites!” 

Azlyn chuckled, slamming back her drink and handed him back the empty glass. “I won’t keep you Baderon—I’ll see you sometime soon!” 

He took her cup, nodding. “Best be seein’ ye lass. Don’t be a stranger, ye hear?” 

Nodding, she dropped a few coins to pay for the drinks that she drank—and teleported to Horizon. The desert sun of the Thanalan skies penetrated her clothing as the broiling heat set upon her. The alcohol she drank previously didn’t sate her thirst as her throat went dry. 

She pulled out her water canteen, sipping the water inside to help the dehydration—and walked down the dusty path to Vesper Bay. Azlyn walked to the storeroom where the Scions’ headquarters resided, and noticed Tataru had not been present at the upper landing. Perhaps the Lalafellin bookkeeper had been down below working on something for the Scions. 

The Au Ra walked down the stairs, pushing open the doors down the familiar lit halls. She could see Alphinaud perched by the wall, reading a book. “Good morning Alphinaud, how are you?” 

The Elezen teen pulled himself away from his pages to smile up to her—his blue eyes lit up. “Good morning to you as well Azlyn, to what do we owe your visit?” 

Azlyn shrugged, “Everyone had a day off, so I wanted to swing by and see how everyone was doing. Have you heard anything from Alisaie?” 

“From what I hear she’s somewhere training to become Eorzea’s blade of light. To find out the exact location would be a bit difficult as Alisaie does tend to keep that to herself.” 

“And you?” 

“Me?” Alphinaud blinked at the change of topic. “I am working on something that could help the Scions in the future—but it requires the Antecedent’s approval.” 

“Want some help formulating a plan?” Azlyn offered to help the teen, to which he paused in thought. 

“Well... if you could check in with her. The Scions have been very busy as of late. We’ve been hit pretty hard with requests and services.” 

She hummed to herself. “You guys too?” Azlyn shook her head. “Alright, I’ll go see Minfillia. Let’s hope everything works out well, eh?” 

Alphinaud raised his book to her, his token thanks as she stepped forward to the Solar. She knocked twice, waiting for permission to come inside. 

“Enter.” 

Azlyn opened the double doors, smiling to Minfillia who visibly relaxed at her arrival. 

“Azlyn, it please me to see you well.” 

She waved her hand up in greeting. “It is good to see you too Minfillia—how are you doing?” 

The Scion sighed, bringing her arms up to cross her chest. “I wish we weren’t as bogged down with guests and merchants from—“

The doors opened to the Solar, and the bookkeeper Tataru with her typical pink robes and red feathered hat came inside. She gave an apologetic glance to the Au Ra before turning to Minfillia. 

“Do excuse me for interrupting Azlyn. My lady, the gentleman from Ashgana Exports has just left.” Tataru heavily sighed, shaking her head in dismay. “I understand now why you don’t want to receive him.” 

Azlyn curiously looked to her, wondering who this individual was. Her thoughts, however, were interrupted as Minfillia too sighed heavily. 

“You did well Tataru. Please inform the guards that we will not be receiving any further guests this afternoon.” 

Tataru gave her a thumbs up, heading out of the office. “Thank you, my lady!” 

The doors that Tataru left from closed once more leaving the two in the Solar to their thoughts. 

“I see you all have been riddled with more work.” Azlyn walked over to the desk, running a hand over the oak wood. “You should have seen our mailbox crammed with tons of requests from the Grand Companies. You’d think we were the only Free Company with as many requests we received.” 

Minfillia chuckled to her revelation. “Yes, ever since we defeated Gaius van Baelsar and destroyed the Ultima Weapon, the eyes of the world have been followed our every move, scarce remembering to blink.” 

“How are the other Scions doing? How is Thancred?” 

The Antecedent smiled. “He is better, I’m sure he’s hiding away with the rest of the Scions by Urianger’s bookshelf.” 

“It must be strange, working out in the open now—the Scions were nothing more than a whisper before everything occurred.” Azlyn replied, thinking aloud. “I’m sure they are adjusting as best they can.” 

“Where once we worked in secret—with precious few friends and all too many enemies—we are now besieged by benefactors, each one more eager than the last to offer us their complete support.” Minfillia sighed, scrunching her forehead in worry. “A true embarrassment of riches.” 

Azlyn crossed her arms over her chest—it was true they too were paid for clearing out the dungeons—but it was almost expected—given the amount of legwork and fighting they did. 

“Of course, every promise of patronage comes with a price.” Minfillia seemed to read her thoughts. “Some make their intentions known from the start, while others endeavor to engage us more subtly. Dress it how they will, the message is ever the same: we shall help you, but only if you help us.” 

“And that gentleman from the Ashgana Exports was one of those individuals?” 

Minfillia heavily sighed, remembering it. “He was more brazen than most. In exchange for certain supplies, he would have us resolve a business dispute.” 

Azlyn shook her head. “Want me to beat him up?” 

Minfillia laughed. “No—no, thank you for the thought. I imagine the retribution would be far greater if we retaliated as such. I refused him, as I have every other merchant of his ilk—Alas the Syndicate’s overtures are not so easily rejected.”

“Ahhh, so this is the Ul’dahn’s then.” The Au Ra sigh matched the Antecedents. She wondered if it was because of where the Waking Sands had been located that had brought about this type of attention—but didn’t know how best to relay that. She had a feeling this place had sentimental feeling to Minfillia, which was why it had been placed there before. 

However she’d never know if Minfillia never spoke about it. 

“When we formed the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, it was with the goal of serving Eorzea, not the interests of individual Eorzeans. Our neutrality is fundamental to our cause.” Minfillia paced the backside of her desk, thinking aloud of how best to approach this new development. “In my heart, I know this to be true, and yet—if accepting these offers of patronage could empower us to do greater good, might they not warrant greater consideration?” 

“I don’t think so.” Azlyn refuted the question. “Getting in the debts of people with ulterior intentions always tend to end up poorly. It’s not like the Students of Baldesion or the Son of Saint Coinach who offers the Scions help with their research—there’s... there’s just something innately different. Plus getting involved in the politics is a bit messy.”

“Our Baldesion colleagues have been generous beyond measure, but we cannot expect them to—Ah.” Minfillia stopped herself from saying anything more about her thoughts. “Forgive me, I did not mean to burden you.” 

Azlyn turned to give the Antecedent a concerned glance. “You don’t have to apologize. Sometimes it helps having someone to bounce ideas off them. But if you wish not to speak more on it, I won’t press it.” She could see the blonde had closed her side of the topic with a firm set smile. To her, it read—“thank you, but I wish not to speak more.”

“My urge to share this dilemma may not be wholly misguided...” Minfillia relented after a few moments of silence. “Might I impose upon you to consult the others? They are like to have their own opinions on the manner, as have you stated eloquently before.” 

She nodded. “Leave it to me!” 

Azlyn exited the Solar, walking by Alphinaud who watched her curiously as she past. She walked down the hall that would led to the storage rooms, the one where most of Urianger’s books were shelved meticulously for the perusal of the Scions. 

She could see all the Scions present at the large table—discussing amongst themselves in quiet voices. Slowly, she made her way over—and stopped by Thancred’s side. He was lost in the discussion as he spoke animatedly. 

“Fortune begets power, and power fortune. That we have power is beyond doubt. The question is what to do with it.” 

Y’shtola lowered the book she had in her hands, forgoing the written words and smiled to their new guest. “Best not forget the power of our esteemed friend who the Mythril Eye continues to follow.” She waved the book in her hands. Azlyn could see the cover, the famous and well-known written grimoire of her adventures as the Bloody Princess of the Sea. 

“Good Afternoon Azlyn.” Papalymo greeted her. “To what do we owe your visit?” 

She saw that they all turned to her, their attention squarely to her. “Ah—don’t mind me. I was just about to ask your opinions on the recent events, pertaining to the neutrality issue of the Scions. Thancred, you were asking what we could do with such power?” Azlyn hoped to bring the topic back to the foreground. 

The recovering Scion reached out to pull out the chair beside him. When she took a seat, he looked to the others. “You may be interested to know that there is a growing belief amongst the refugees that Ala Mhigo could be liberated—if only the Scions would commit their strength to the cause.” 

Yda clenched her fists together in her lap. She remained irrevocably silent when this topic sprung up. 

“Are we willing to start a war though?” Azlyn posed. “Hypothetically if the Scions, or even groups of adventurers stepped up to fight off the imperial outposts in Gyr Abania—that would just be one country liberated compared to the half dozen or so still in the Garlean hands. If one isn’t too careful, it could very well turn bloodier than the Calamity.” 

Papalymo raised a hand to his chin. “I agree with Azlyn on this notion—but who knows what the future has in store for us.”

“So we shouldn’t?” Y’shtola asked the Au Ra, genuinely intrigued. 

“I’m not saying yay or nay.” Azlyn sighed. “But I think if things get heated and war breaks out—it will turn into a whole global event than a singular country event. Don’t get me wrong, I hate that Garleans are making the lives of others worse but I can’t condone needless deaths and bloodshed.” 

Thancred perked up. “Theirs is but one of many causes. We stand at a crossroads Azlyn. Each path is paved with good intentions, but where they lead is far from clear. It is something to think about in the days to come.” 

Azlyn nodded, thinking back to Little Ala Mhigo and the refugees that lived in the small community. It had taken a long few days to earn Gundobald’s trust, and even then there were many refugees who are driven by the sheer notion of liberation, like Wilred once was. 

Urianger glanced to Y’shtola. “Wise it be to think of foreign affairs, when bugs threaten to destroy the inner workings of our current abode? One must not ignore the termites that eat away the wooden foundation we hath lain.” 

The Miqo’te scholar snapped her book closed, the bookmark kept her place as she nodded. “Recall you our meeting with the Admiral, Azlyn? It was shortly after the Lominsans sent word of the summoning of Titan?” 

“Yes.” She remembered the harsh words she spoke to the Admiral. But they were true. The Lominsans did break the established contract their ancestors had placed—to which the Kobolds have since remembered and have not forgiven. “They broke their accords with the beast tribes—time and time again.” 

Y’shtola sadly smiled. “I said unto Merlwyb that her people had broken their treaty with the kobolds, and that the beastmen had justly responded—that we had been called to intervene in a conflict which she herself had invited. I spoke, in short, the truth. And wherefore did I speak it? Because owing no allegiance to Limsa, I felt no compulsion to allow the Lominsans to distort the facts to fit a narrative which justified their actions and absolved them of guilt.” 

Azlyn figured it had something to do with that. She nodded. “The Scions operate with neutrality in mind.” 

“Upon this subject, Minfillia can expect a similar reply. Our many dalliances with the city-states have already weakened our claim to neutrality, but the path she contemplates would see us relinquish it entirely.”

Papalymo looked to Yda, “None can deny that we would benefit from more support, but if it comes at the cost of our principles? Neutrality was ever a delicate matter, I’ve lost count of the times I’ve had to explain to people that our allegiances need not necessarily lie in the same place as our headquarters. Mind you, if we are to sell our services for Gil, we might as well declare our fealty to Ul’dah now, and be done with it.” The Lalafellin thaumaturge shook his head, more disgruntled than usual. “I’m quite sure Yda would enjoy the bribes...” The man looked up to Yda, who had placed a hand over her chin. 

“I have been receiving a lot of gifts lately, but Papalymo keeps making me send them back.” She shrugged. “It wouldn’t be so bad, but some of them are really nice. I mean, very nearly abandon your principles nice, you know?” 

A few of the Scions at the table gave a small laugh, even Y’shtola who shook her head. 

“Bribes are common ways to lure the unexpected in.”  Thancred said to Azlyn. “If you get any bribes from anyone, best to just return them and be succinctly intent on your denial. We all know how you have an aversion to saying no.” 

Azlyn felt her jaw drop, “I’ll have you know I can say no when it is truly required.” 

Yda chuckled.

“Tis the lot of the powerful to attract the covetous as well as the needy. Thus doth prudence dictate that those with power proffer with one hand whilst the other resteth ever on their hilt.” Urianger spoke aloud, gathering their attention. “Alas, we have not the luxury of time to decipher our petitioner’s machinations—nay, not while the beast tribes do labor unseen, defiant in defeat, to raise up their fallen primals once more.” 

This made everyone sigh. The primals did have a way of making it harder to work alongside with the beast tribes. 

“Would that we could find friendship in the beastmen. Maybe if we worked with one clan, they can spread the word—are there not other groups like the slyphs?” Azlyn asked, thinking about the tempered sylphs in Larkscall and how they typically don’t bother the regular sylphs near Hawthorne Hut. 

Thancred drummed his fingers on the table. “Actually... there is a tribe of Amalj’aa near Little Ala Mhigo. However they are wary of outsiders.” 

Y’shtola thought of this as well. “Maybe that could be arranged. There is a small community of Kobolds not tempered to Titan by Camp Overlook. And a small clan of Sahagin just beyond the gates of Western La Noscea.” 

“I guess that leaves the Ixal then...” Azlyn pondered. “I suppose I can ask the others—unless Yda and Papalymo know?” 

Papalymo thought quietly to himself.

Yda snapped her fingers.  “OH! There’s a small crafters community by Fallgourd Float! I believe I’ve seen Ixal come and go from that area, but that’s all I know.”

Urianger reached up to the bookshelf to pluck a book from its spot. “While it may benefit to all to friend the beastmen—doubt not that some will still summon their gods—stronger and bolder both. Nor that we shall be the ones to meet them. This sacred charge shall ever be ours. Tis but a pity we are so few, and our fortune so finite.” 

“So it all comes down to lack of resources and Gil in the end.” Azlyn tapped her chin in thought. 

“Pray forgive my late arrival to your conversation, I was listening in from the door.” Azlyn looked over her shoulder to see Alphinaud with the same book he was reading before. He approached them with a small smile. “Well, to be honest, this situation if not wholly unexpected. I too have given much thought to our organization’s future, though it would seem I have reached a different conclusion from hearing your conversation.” 

“Which is?” Y’shtola questioned, wondering what the youngest Leveilleur twin would recommend. 

“Mayhap it is time I made my feelings known, but come. Let’s go inform the Antecedent of our quandary.” 

Alphinaud turned on his heel, leaving the Scions and Azlyn to wonder what his feelings actually were. Thancred stood up, followed by the other Scions—and together they arrived back to the Solar. 

Minfillia looked surprised at everyone’s presence. “Is aught amiss?” 

“Don’t mind us, we’re here to listen to Alphinaud’s cryptic thoughts.” Yda proposed when the Solar doors closed. 

Minfillia chuckled, walking behind her desk. 

“You desired counsel, and so you shall have it Minfillia.” Alphinaud started, as he stopped at the center of their group. “The Scions of the Seventh Dawn must leave Ul’dah.” 

Azlyn had expected a response like this—as it came to her briefly when Papalymo mentioned selling their services for Gil. 

“We must do what?” Minfillia seemed surprised at the sudden statement. Azlyn could tell that the others were considering Alphinaud’s words. 

“So long as we remain within Ul’dahn territory, we will never be free to act with impunity. Moving our headquarters to Vesper Bay only delayed the inevitable. We have demonstrated our capabilities, and the Syndicate has taken note. They will not suffer our organization to remain independent now. We are far too dangerous for that.” Alphinaud explained explicitly. He crossed his arms, looking squarely to Minfillia. “Surely you realize they are the reason Vesper Bay still lacks an aetheryte? Which is why it and other favors will be denied us unless we cooperate.” 

Azlyn remembered in a past conversation with Thancred about the lack of an Aetheryte. It did make sure, thinking back to his words and Alphinaud’s rhetorical question. Of course the Syndicate had been behind several things that prevented the Scions from operating at full capacity. “They know full well how beneficial one would be here...” Azlyn murmured, shaking her head. 

“I concur with Alphinaud on this matter.” Y’shtola replied calmly. “Ul’dah has overstepped their boundaries time and time again—and we cannot keep neutrality when they treat us like horses led by carrots on long sticks.” 

Minfillia laid both her palms upon her desk, more worried as the others also quietly mulled the possibilities. 

“If Ul’dah is no longer suitable, where would you have us go?” 

“It should be somewhere that won’t favor one City-State over the other.” Papalymo recommended. “And also somewhere easily accessible and fresh with resources.” 

“Is there a spot like that in Eorzea?” Yda tapped her chin. 

“I doubt Coerthas is an option, as Ishgard will frown upon our settlement in their lands.” Thancred shook his head. “Can’t say the weather is nice either.” 

Alphinaud listened to the Scions. “Experience has taught us that the appearance of neutrality is as important as the reality. Accordingly, we must keep each of the great nations at arm’s length, and plant our banner in a place which all agree to be beyond their borders.” 

Azlyn crunched her eyebrows together, trying to think of a nearby settlement or plot of land. The only one she could think of was Mor Dhona—

“Mor Dhona!” Alphinaud postulated confidently, and snapped his fingers outward. 

“You’re thinking of Revenant’s Toll?” Azlyn asked curiously. She remembered it was nothing more than an adventurers community, but it was true that they did not have any alliances or allegiances with the City-States. 

Alphinaud nodded. “It lies within neutral territory, and offers all the essential facilities we require. By way of an additional benefit, it is also frequented by a veritable legion of adventurers who may serve to supplement our ranks.” 

This caught everyone’s attention, even Minfillia’s—but she seemed torn about needing to leave. 

“I am conscious of the fact that we have developed a certain bond with Ul’dah and her people over the years.” Alphinaud started once more, seeing the struggle upon the Antecedent’s face. “But I truly believe this to be the best course of action.” 

Minfillia decided to speak her mind. “As you yourself observed, we have invaluable ties to the local community, forged through years of concerted effort. Ul’dah—Ul’dah is our home, Alphinaud! To cast aside everything we have built and start anew in that desolate wasteland would be beyond reckless.” 

Azlyn shook her head. “It’s not a desolate wasteland Minfillia. It’s a thriving community—I’ve seen it myself. I can tell you love Ul’dah—you’ve even stated this is your home—but if you truly wish to see the Scions of the Seventh Dawn free from the control of others—it might be something to consider.” 

Alphinaud smiled to Azlyn, before turning to the Antecedent. He gestured to her calmly. “The decision is yours to make, Antecedent. I ask only that you recall that shared purpose which first moved us to found the Scions of the Seventh Dawn—and which moved you to found the Path of the Twelve ere that.” 

“There is merit to what Master Alphinaud proffers my lady. Vesper Bay has been home to many of us.” Urianger bowed his head slightly. 

“I think it’d be good to move—there are... memories here that sometimes leaves me worse for wear.” Yda admitted, rubbing her foot back and forth. “But it’s whatever Minfillia wants to do! I’ll follow you wherever you go!” 

Papalymo nodded.

“We aspire to an ideal, you and I.” Alphinaud perked up, “Just as my grandfather did. That makes us more than mere comrades-in-arms. We are much your family as...” 

Minfillia turned away from them all. “That will be all Alphinaud.” 

The young teen turned on his heel, deciding it best to leave. He gestured for Azlyn to follow him. “I’m sure you all have plenty to discuss. I’ll be outside with Azlyn.” 

The other scions watched as the young lad walked, only for Minfillia to call to him. “I’m sure you have some familial affairs of your own to attend to.”

Azlyn wondered what else could be the problem—but the young twin shrugged his shoulders. “Your concern is most generous, but no—I have left them in the hands of men better suited to the task than I. I could not very well allow my personal affairs to come before the needs of the order, after all.” The Au Ra sensed a bit of... tension grow in the room before the male Elezen escorted himself out. 

She followed suit, noticing Y’shtola leave right away. It appeared she had said her piece. The Miqo’te stopped the pair with a nod. “We shall see if your words have reached her. Her sentiments—the sentimental value of this place we call home—cannot sway what needs be done. Excellent suggestion.” 

Azlyn looked down to the book in between her arm. She stared at it with a vehement glare. “I don’t suppose I could talk you down to burning that book?” 

Y’shtola laughed, walking back to the storeroom with the aforementioned book in hand. “I dare say it is quite the read. Dashing tales of a heroic emblem—a growing heroine in a desperate time of need.” 

Alphinaud crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Is that the first or the second?” 

“The second volume.” Y’shtola called back, “The first is on the top shelf where Urianger can get it.” 

Azlyn narrowed her eyes. That was why she hadn’t seen it on the shelves. They made sure to put it over her head and beyond her reach. “That’s dirty, and you know it Y’shtola!” 

Thancred, Papalymo, and Yda came out from the Solar moments later, they looked to Azlyn yelling down the corridor. 

“Ah, you found out about the book?” Papalymo nodded in understanding. “I too would be upset if someone wrote an autobiography about me without permission.” 

“It’s not an autobiography.” Azlyn pointed out. “I didn’t manifest from a pool of blood—upon the desperate pleas of the Lominsans who prayed for a savior. Nor did I—”

Thancred patted her head, chuckling down to her. “I see you have read some of it.” 

“The kids from the Orphanage gave it as a Starlight present. I very well couldn’t burn that one.” She grumbled. “I’ve been reading it at night before going to bed. I can barely get by the chapter—where did this writer come up with all this information?” 

Yda stretched, and shortly followed Y’shtola who went to read in peace. Papalymo left with her. 

Alphinaud shrugged. “You are a hot topic around Eorzea—I’m sure many individuals will have a story or two about your heroism. Of course if it is truth or fabrication is up to the actual individual in question.” 

Azlyn sighed. She shook her head, wondering when the madness would end. 

Urianger finally emerged from the Solar—he approached their group with a slight shake of his head. “My lady is ever on the hopes of someone’s return—perhaps it is something thee both could work through?” 

A look of realization sprung across Alphinaud’s face. “Ah—that’s absolutely right. I suppose a bit of explanation is in order.” He turned to Azlyn. “Minfillia blindly refuses to leave... She knows what must be done, and still she hesitates. All because of these fanciful rumors.”

“Rumors?” 

Thancred nodded. “The rumors about Minfillia’s adoptive mother.” 

Alphinaud heavily sighed. “She was among the great many who perished during the Calamity. F’lhaminn was her name, though you may know her better as the ‘Songstress of Ul’dah’. She was a performer of a singular talent, and much beloved by the people of Eorzea—not to mention a certain Sharlayan minstrel.” 

Azlyn recognized the name—as Alphinaud suggested—she was a household name that all knew. She recalled listening to a few of her pieces over a recording her parents sent over—but that was as much as she knew. 

“As you may imagine, the news of her passing was greeted with shock and disbelief by her adoring followers, many of whom refused to acknowledge what had happened. That her body was never found only served to encourage speculation.” 

“And recently these rumors started to creep up once again?” Azlyn guessed. 

Thancred nodded. “Minfillia struggled at first to accept the truth, but as F’lhaminn’s absence stretched from months into years, she saw that there could be no other explanation.”

“That was until recently. For whatever reason rumors have begun to circulate that F’lhaminn is alive and well.” Alphinaud let out a puff of indignant air. “Alas, they have served to rekindle an irrational hope in Minfillia which now clouds her judgment. This talk of Ul’dah as our home, and of the insurmountable difficulties of moving to Mor Dhona—it is no more than an expression of her unwillingness to let go. Nonsense, in a word.” 

Azlyn could understand wanting to wish for someone long thought dead to be alive—after all—she too felt a similar feeling a week ago when she saw Archon Louisoix alive—albeit it took her visiting the family grave with Roll to squash those thoughts. 

“Until the tales of F’lhaminn’s miraculous perseveration have been categorically disproved, I fear she will remain lost to reason.” Alphinaud gestured at last. “That being the case, I propose we set about disproving them posthaste. Let’s see how these fanciful claims stand up to investigation.” 

Urianger nodded to them, “Thou set forth the quickest and direct path. May thee have safe travels.” The bookkeeper excused himself at last, moving back to the same storeroom where Y’shtola, Papalymo, and Yda retreated to. 

“I’d recommend you two head to the Church of Saint Adama Landama. Father Illiud may have more information.” Thancred smiled to them, and then started to move. 

Azlyn hollered after him. “Hey Thancred, are you okay?” 

The man faltered in his step, looking over his shoulder to her. “Me? Of course! Be seeing you when you return.” He gave a half-committed wave and escaped down the hall. 

She crossed her arms, mimicking Alphinaud’s puff of indignation. “Methinks he’s hiding his true feelings.” 

Alphinaud chuckled, walking to the Waking Sand’s exit. “You’re probably not wrong. Well, let’s be on our way. I wish to squash these rumors before the day is over.”