Final Fantasy XIV: Ashen Dawn

Respite and Remembrance

In their rest, everybody found time to regroup and reinvigorate themselves about the plan, as well as speak amongst each other on the topic of the tournament by itself. While both its origins and host–not to mention its legality–were all shrouded in mystery, at the very least were they able to breeze through it unabashed. Yes, the whole Hirosch and Fei thing had just happened, but they understood; or at least, the people who were there to also get attacked by Fei in Dravania understood. Past that, Eniro needed some time to think. Thanks to Hirosch and Fei's disqualification, Eniro would be bumped up to take on whoever won between Strun and Alisiaie, and then, he'd be fighting either Cyprus or Raubahn in the finals. But soon enough, Dillon had went up to him in the middle of his thought, shifting the boy's mind somewhere else entirely.

"What made you hide it from me for so long?"

"Hmm?"

"You bein' a Dragoon."

He expected Dillon to say something about his relation to the Scions. That being said, with most of their number there, he was wondering if Dillon just hadn't figured it out yet or if he was feigning such a claim to keep Eniro on his toes. At least the plan to have Eniro win was still under wraps, but even so, the tape holding it together was starting to peel off.

"I just…didn't think it was necessary."

The gleamer let out a hearty chuckle in response, crossing his arms as he traded a stare with the other Lalafell.

"Really? You're the one who'd be all up in arms if I found out any earlier–going on about how easy your training regimen is, how I shouldn't worry about you-"

Eniro playfully pushed him back a little, the both of them sharing a laugh.

"Hey, I had my reasons! Besides, like you said. We've both got our own paths; the last thing I would want is to get in your way."

His gaze traced over from Dillon towards the other end of the surrounding area, now eyeing Troy who was staring at his sword and running a hand down the engraved blade. There was something about that guy that just…didn't sit well with him. It was a massive reach when it came to his reason why, but as far as Eniro was concerned, the way he always stared at his weapon, the look in his eyes when he did anything without people looking; he looked crazy. The gaze in his eyes reminded him of Admes.

But Eniro couldn't afford to think about that right now.

He needed to rest for his coming bout with Y'shtola, and if he spent this time racking his brain about other people, he'd never relax. Somebody who was already relaxing though was Dariya, taking a moment to step away from the others and gaze out amidst the ruins of Carteneau in silence.

She wasn't there for the battle between Garlemald and Eorzea that took place here. At the time, she was being ushered into her home for shelter in the middle of the Calamity, watching both of her parents say goodbye to her one final time as her older sister cradled her in her arms. She didn't even know if her sister was still alive or not. She doesn't remember what happened after their house came crashing down, but she wasn't able to find a body in the wreckage. 

Everything before that was a blur. 

And everything after would eventually shape her into who she was today, if not entirely thanks to Papalymo having kicked her ass while out on a scouting operation in the Twelveswood. 

Without him, she wouldn't have lasted another week.

Without him, she wouldn't even be a Scion.

He told her about Ul'dah and wasted no time sending her on her way–unknowing that in two years time she'd become the very face of the continent that had wronged her as poorly as taking away her family. But Papalymo was the reason she was even here to begin with. She could thank him for that, even if how she really felt about him was something she couldn't divulge. 

Stryker noticed her standoffish nature from afar, having come over to put an arm around her with a raised eyebrow.

"You doing okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Never expected you of all people to ask me that, though."

He chuckled and leaned against her with his arms crossed, the Monk and Dancer eyeing Carteneau up and down together for the time being.

"What can I say? I know I'm this good, but it's not like I'm the only one with a stroke o' talent."

"Personally, I'd call it luck." Stryker grinned, getting a hard nudge to the side from the Warrior of Light.

"Ah, bite me."

The two of them stood there in silence for a bit until a loud, blaring horn rang out from the center of the platform they stood on. It was time to go again, and up next would be the very fight that all of this was leading up to; Eniro Vs. Y'shtola. The fight to make the mission and figure out what it was that Black Rose really was.

…

…

…

Having remained in Sharlaya following the call from Minfilia that set up the tournament, Nanaha, Izandel and Aceiridge hadn't had much left to do but investigate what was relayed to them through Y'shtola. Something directly involving the Forum was causing one of their gleamers to take desperate measures, and through that were the Eorzean Alliance growing curious despite the waters of the Northern Empty being as closed off to outsiders as they could get. Having Y'shtola go with them was the detective agency's ace in the hole, and it was through a bit of scrounging in the city's Hall of Records that they eventually found what they were really looking for.

Documents on the Praetorium and Castrum Meridianum; two facilities helmed by the Garlean Empire that saw the Eorzean Alliance's final effort to loosen their grip on their home take place there. That invasion happened merely a year ago on the grounds of the Warrior of Light and her allies, and within those documents were detailed information on the infrastructure, building process, and defenses of both establishments down to the most minute detail.

Who in Sharlaya would take this information? And what purpose would they have with any of it?

How did Dillon even find this out?

The detective agency needed to act fast, and so they departed Sharlaya with the document in tow, narrowly escaping unseen and taking another moment on the ship they left on to overlook the document once more. They needed a location, a name, a date, anything. 

And they were able to find it, hidden away in the bottom right corner of one of the document's many jotted down fine prints. 

Zaeiru Kazegiro. A resident of the Doman Enclave.