Minfilia Warde had not expected her dungeon explorations would take so much time. Days, in fact. But her and Fordola had cleared out the Dzemael Darkhold. They stood at the Voidgate, as it still flickered - before feeling the presence of another.

A man stood behind them, silently. Draped in dark purple robes - not an Ascian, the fashion was much more like a mage - the man looked between them. He also wore a mask, but it again was not in the Ascian style. Eyes peeked out from behind the mask - one blue, one green. They were dull, though - tired. Minfilia stepped aside, Fordola stared. “Did you follow us…?” Minfilia began, before he raised a hand to the voidgate.

After a few moments, it vanished. “…it’s not the one,” he mumbled, before turning to leave. It closed so easily—? Minfilia felt fear bubble up in her throat. Fordola couldn’t hold her tongue - the small lizard charged towards the cloaked man.

“Hey! She asked you a question!”

The man turned. Looked down at Fordola. Looked back at Minfilia. Before shaking his head. “I did. I could sense the call of the Void.” His voice sounded wrong, echoing slightly. An accent that Minfilia could not place, and a bitterness that she could. “Do not thank me. A Voidgate such as this was close to expiring - with the Voidsent connected to it dead, it had nothing else it could do.”

He gave a grandiose bow, his long purple-black and slightly curly hair covering half his face as he did. For some reason, Minfilia felt her glyph flickering, a soft burning sensation pressed against her back. As the taller man stood from his bow, he gave Minfilia the softest look he could behind his mask. “If you are interested in the Void, we will meet again.” Under his mask, his mouth twisted into a smile. “I’m an expert on those matters.”

With that, he turned again and left. Fordola shuddered a little. Minfilia was silent. But then, Fordola looked up at Minfilia, confused. “…He didn’t seem t’react to. You know. Me.” Quietly, Minfilia placed her back against the wall, to calm the pain. “Maybe mages are used t’—”

“—I doubt there are familiars that look like Primal,” Minfilia said quietly. She did not know of summoners, for one, but she also knew that Fordola wasn’t similar to a cat or a bird. Fordola crawled onto her lap, now noticing the warmth. “Oh, um. I think the magic here alerted Belias to something.

It’s fine. Let’s go and give our report.”


“And thus, you have done favours for two of the four high houses of Ishgard.”

Minfilia stood firm as she looked over Portelaine, who held a little smirk. “You have saved men of Durendaire, and you have also cleared out the Darkhold. Just what did you want, again?”

“Introductions to all four houses,” Minfilia said calmly, “so that I may petition them all for aid seeking an airship.” There were pragmatic reasons for her desires - it was not selfless, as it may appear, and Minfilia needed them to know so. The Elezen sitting across from her looked her over, eyes narrowing.

“You have done many favours, true. And with the Darkhold now usable, it will save many men.” A pause, as Portelaine examined the Hyur across from him. “I believe I can draft you a letter—”

“Ser!” The door opened, and a harried porter stood at the door, their packages held tightly. “We have an issue. One of these— one of these were pillaged by heretics. I think, anyway - I was busy fighting for my life!”

“Bloody hells. That’s Lord Francels’, isn’t it?”

Minfilia stood aside as they took the box - and Portelaine opened it. Before turning pale, turning away to retch. “Fury take me, a draconian rosary! In the possession of Lord Francel!?”

Minfilia turned pale as well. “Yet…perhaps this is not so difficult to fathom. House Haillenarte is whispered to be infested with heretics… Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention. I shall inform the inquisitors immediately.

Miss?” Portelaine looked to Minfilia, expression growing serious. “Under these circumstances, I must strongly advise against associating with House Haillenarte.”

Deep down, Minfilia felt herself disagreeing, wanting to scream. She knew that the men of Haillenarte were good men - she knew Chlodebaimt. But he was a dead man, an enemy of those he once loved. “I understand,” Minfilia said plainly. “Is there aught I can do?”

Portelaine shook his head. “It is the duty of Ishgardians to root out and destroy heretics. Not… outsiders. Your other introductions will need to be postponed, as well.” He stood, turning to the porter. “I shall be leaving to inform others. Sit by the fire, warm yourself.”

Minfilia was about to leave as well, anger visible on her face. How dare they not understand the threat of a Primal? How dare they not give the aid they need? Thankfully, her reddened face was easily dismissed as the cold getting to her. As she looked to the door, though, Minfilia felt a soft poke to her shoulder.

Another Ishgardian. But they leaned in, to whisper to her. “Lord Francel is no heretic. He is a goodly, righteous man, wholly dedicated to the cause. I know this because I served House Haillenarte for years prior to the Calamity. You must go to Skyfire Locks and warn him of the coming storm. The inquisitors are ruthless and will spare him no mercy.

…Speak to him of an edelweiss, and he will know you for a friend. Now, go.”

Minfilia turned to face them, but they had already moved back to where they were, pretending they hadn’t spoken. Speaking up like that was a risk, after all. A soft nod, and Minfilia left as well.

But before she went to Francel, she went back to the caravan. Tapped her linkpearl. And called up Chlodebaimt, her voice a soft whisper. “Ser. I am in Ishgardian territory.”

The voice from the other side was soft, but out of breath. “Have you seen any Ixal?”

That wasn’t important right now - but she hadn’t. “Your brother has been accused of heresy. Francel. Is there aught I should know to navigate this… minefield?”

Minfilia swore she heard Chlodebaimt swear under his breath, before his voice grew dangerous. “They will kill him. It does not matter if he is guilty or not.” A pause, as he tried to breathe. “Unless you find proof that he could not be what they say he is - tangible proof - he will be thrown down Witchdrop.

…Please. Save him.”

Quietly, Minfilia gave a little nod - before realising she was speaking over Linkpearl. “I understand. I shall find proof, my friend.

But is there aught I need to know? Please. I know little of Ishgardian politics.”

Chlodebaimt let out a deep, deep sigh. “Francel might be a lord, but he was the fourth born of our family. He would not be mourned as much as he should be.

However, he has grown to be important to Haurchefant, the lord of Camp Dragonhead. He would likely come to his aid.” Chlodebaimt paused, and Minfilia could hear his growl building. “Even if he’s a bastard.

From what I remember, he isn’t the only one who could be won over. Drillemont of House Durendaire. Before the Steel Vigil fell, I oft worked with him - working on ways to fortify our respective strongholds.” His voice was filled with a mix of nostalgia and kindness, distracting him from his anger for but a moment. “My name will not bring you favour, however. I doubt I am remembered as anything but a failure to my men.”

Minfilias’ heart ached. Chlodebaint continued, warmly. “He may be a little hard to win over, but— well. No man likes being deceived. And I know my brother is a good man. I would recommend going to Camp Dragonhead first, however. For one, it is easier to get to.

For two, it is also close to the Ixal population. Perhaps you can figure them out?” Sighing, Chlodebaimt tapped the Linkpearl on his end. “Please be safe, Minfilia. And don’t forget you can summon Lord Belias.”

Lord Belias. Minfilia couldn’t help but chuckle at the respect. “I promise I will. And… Chlodebaimt? Pray, do not do anything stupid.”


Perhaps Minfilia should have asked for directions to Skyfire Locks. But there were only two exits, right?

Minfilia had chosen wrong. The snow was heavy, and Ixal loomed though the cavernous opening. But something was different about them - they stood taller, and had Elezen-esque eyes which focused on the lone Hyur. Some of them wore broken Ishgardian armour, draped loosely over their bodies. They did not move.

Minfilia did not move.

That is, until one of them let out a far-too-familiar screech, and they charged for Minfilia - claws out. She couldn’t dodge - she had to move further into the cavern, to the open area outside, to get free of their attacks. Every time she dodged, and one fell off the cliffs, they tried to take her with them. A warm campfire illuminated the scene - and soon, Minfilia was alone. Or so she thought.

A soft sound came from behind her. Minfilia turned, ready to dodge another Ixal -but instead, an Elezen clad in dark azure armour stood there, snow slightly disturbed around his feet. A dragoon, Minfilia reasoned, for she had seen them before the Calamity. They both stood silently watching the other - the azure-clad dragoon almost taking a step forward. His lips trembled, and while his eyes were covered, Minfilia could feel him staring at the slight crystalization on her stomach. The mark that becoming a Cie’th left on her.

It was Minfilia who tried to talk to him. “Excuse me—”

But her words fell upon deaf ears, as the other suddenly jumped away. Almost as if he could fly, the campfire burning out.

Clearly, this was the wrong way. But that man - Minfilia felt her heart stir, an odd pain go though her body. Almost as if the Echo was awakening, but she saw nothing. Oddly, it reminded Minfilia of Lightning…

But she found herself now going north, and saw a small cabin at the top of a path. Was that where she was meant to go? Quietly, Minfilia knocked on the door - and entered to find a man who looked a lot like Chlodebaimt had (before he lost himself to becoming a dragon) sitting at a cold desk, the fireplace not on. The man there - Francel, garbed in a heavy coat - was packing a bag.

He stared at Minfilia. Minfilia raised a hand. “Ah - um - Is that an edelweiss in your pocket, or are you happy to meet me?” Oh god, that was embarrassing, and her cheeks turned a little red.

Francel paused. “I see Ser Carrilaut has not forgotten my mother’s favorite flower. A pity it has not been seen in Coerthas since the Calamity. You may speak freely here, friend.”

“I— your luggage was nearly lost. And inside, a roseary was found. A Dravanian one—” Minfilia began, before Francel interrupted her, his voice a little hoarse.

“That’s…that’s absurd! I would sooner die than become a thrall of the dragons!” Francel said, looking back to his bag. His head lowered. “Alas, it matters little what I say at this point,” he sighed, “This will only add weight to the incessant accusations our house has suffered of late. It’s as though the gods themselves are plotting our fall…

What was your name, again?”

“Minfilia Warde.”

Francel tried to give a half-smile. “You’ve risked much coming here. But I cannot give you anything in return. I am leaving to hunt for a missing friend… though that may make my case worse.” A missing friend? Minfilia tilted her head, and Francel lowered his gaze. “Haurchefant. He vanished recently - and then these… bird people began to infiltrate our ranks. They act like they’re fighting the good fight.”

—Minfilia didn’t want to believe it. But she had an idea of what happened, but knew it would not be believed. “I need to find Haurchefant - he doesn’t deserve to die forgotten. But— I can write you a letter of introduction to the current head of Camp Dragonhead. If you wish to continue though our territory, it’s a good place to start.”

Minfilia nodded slightly. “If you do so, I shall try and fight your charges. I— have information that may help.” The poisoning of Chlodebaimt, she thought. “I believe you’re an innocent man, Francel.”

Francel scoffed. “You don’t know me. But… thank you.” Hastily, he got out some paper, and began to write. “The man you’re going to meet is a little… strange. Pray excuse him.”

Minfilia took the letter, and looked it over. Francel closed his bag, and said a quiet prayer to himself. “Stay safe, Minfilia. And… don’t let Ceodore scare you.”