The Enterprise had landed, and Minfilia took in the Ul’dahn air once again. It had been far too long. She almost gripped to Alphinauds’ hand, but instead they walked together hand-by-hand. Cid followed them, one hand to his head. They had to get to the meeting as soon as possible. They had their own answer for Gaius, of course. But Minfilia knew that she was also the best witness to the power of Ultima Weapon. Could it be stopped? Minfilia did not know. But they had to. Perhaps even Belias could do such… no. She could not risk his life, as well.

Minfilia put a hand to her chest, trying to calm her nerves. She had only spoken with Merlwyb face-to-face. The others would have forgotten her.

But she had not forgotten them. The two approached the heavy doors outside the Fragrant Chamber, and the man standing there. He raised a hand. “The council of the Alliance leaders is presently in progress in the Fragrant Chamber. I must ask that you step away from the doors, madam.”

Minfilia gave a slight nod. “I am here representing the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We’ve risen from the ashes - we live.”

The man in front of her gave a soft gasp. Stared between Minfilia, Alphinaud and Cid. Before gulping down a swear or two. “…I’m sorry? You’re here on behalf of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn!? A thousand pardons, my lady!” The door opened, letting out a deep groan - masking the sweat that now rolled down the guards’ head. “Of course you two may enter!”

Minfilia and Alphinaud nodded to each other, as Minfilia rested on Cid a little. They had this.

“Bah! We keep treading the same ground.”

Raubahns’ fist slammed down on the large table. Gods, he wished he could pace, frustration building though his entire frame. Merlwyb and Kan-e-Senna - alongside Nanamo, dear Nanamo - all stared at him.

“Van Baelsar’s demands are clear,” Merlwyb commented, looking downards.

“Alas, our minds are not.” Kan-e-Senna replied, wringing her hands, longing for the call of the Elementals.

Raubahn stood. “I’ve never been one to shy from a fight. But if this weapon of theirs can do all they claim…”

Kan-e-Senna looked around to the gathered others, finally giving a voice to what they were all thinking. “It has been five years since the Calamity, and our people have scarce begun to rebuild their lives. Can we now, in good conscience, call upon them to risk what little they have left?

I would spare them the pain of further conflict.” No, not conflict. The Weapon had taken down three Primals, according to the missive. And besides, their people were so tired. The land was exhausted of fighting, and so were they.

Merlwyb looked upwards. Hand on one of her guns. “We strike them down at no small cost, only for them to rise again and again.” Did she speak of Garleans or Primal? Did it matter? “Are we to play this profitless game for the rest of days? I, for one, grow tired of it.”

Raubahn snarled, trying to hide his anger. They didn’t know. “By Rhalgr… Though neither of you cried surrender, your every word betokened it.” And yet… yet, deep within, he felt the same weight on his very soul. His shoulders slumped. “I cannot rightly claim that Ul’dah is ready to fight. Refugees flood our gates, and beastmen swarm our land, while the great and the good do nothing. My Flames struggle to bear the burden.

I put on a grand show at the remembrance service, made all manner of lofty promises… I’ve made good on not a bloody one.”

Nanamo spoke up, gently, looking him over. “Do not blame yourself, Raubahn. You said only that which the people needed to hear. All present have done the same. Our citizens had become lost to hope. If our words served to kindle it in them anew, better we speak than remain silent.”

But hope could not be re-kindled, and they all knew why. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were gone. The Warrior of Light was gone. Hope had faded.

The first who heard the heavy footsteps of the three allied with the Scions was Kan-e-Senna, who raised her head to look at the three. As one who could hear the Elementals, she could also feel the changes in the aether. The mechanical scent almost made her think of Garlemald.

And yet, instead, three stood there. The grandchild of Louisoix. The one who had fought Primals, in a less violent way. And most shocking of all, Cid Garlond - he’d survived, it seemed. Merlwyb then stared, and then Nanamo and Raubahn did.

Minfilia stepped forward. “Pray listen to me. I have faced the Weapon that Gaius has used… and I do not think it is how to stop the Primal threat.

Tell me. If Garlemald slaughtered these Primals, what would others do? We are not the only land. Others would rise, and stronger Primal would be born of desperation and fear. They would not be docile like Ramuh,” or Rhalgr, but Minfilia would not say that, “or easily calmed like Ifrit.

If Garlemald had Eorzea, however, we would simply have more desperate Spoken.” Minfilias’ gaze turned right to Raubahn, letting her Ala Mhigan accent slip into her anger. “Or do you doubt their conviction? Garlemald is not one to let lands remain as they were.”

Raubahn froze. Before giving her a knowing look. He did not remember this woman, but he could feel her pain. He understood it - he, too, held it. “Aye. I know. If we gave up, they’d execute us. Or worse.” Raubahn, after all, knew Gaius better then the others.

Minfilia continued, hand to her chest. “As Merlwyb is aware,” she said, now addressing all of them, “I have been negotiating peace between different Spoken. I have begun to calm the Kobold, and have found and rescued the Tonberry.” Minfilia would not dare mention the Siren - a genocide that was averted, though luck. Her confidence did not waver. “Titan was only summoned due to the deeds of a Paragon. If he did not meddle, Titan would have been stopped and then no longer a threat, as long as La Noscea kept its word.

It is the same for the other Primal I have stopped.” A deep breath, as Minfilia placed her hands on the table.

“Ifrit was a terrified Ala Mhigan, scorned by her people. Meanwhile, the Amalj’aa live in fear of not only their neighbours, but of Ul’dah destroying more of their home.

The Sylph - we are all aware the Sylph are only tolerated because they are easily slain. They fear the Garleans, and that is why they awoke their guardian, Ramuh - though the flesh of another.

And Garuda… Garuda is but an Ishgardian, who was promised love. And the Ixal— I believe they are simply trying to survive after most of their land was destroyed by the Calamity. If they were one of the less beastial races, would they not be classified as refugees?”

Alphinaud turned to stare at Minfilia. Was she nuts? She almost sounded like she cared more for them then her fellow man. Minfilias’ expression grew dark. Almost frightening. “With their Gods imprisoned - with those they cherish gone - what is to stop them from growing more violent? To save their Gods, and to save themselves?”

Everything grew quiet, until a bark-like laugh broke the tension. Merlwyb had stood, trying to stop herself from slapping the table. “You’re crazy, Minfilia!” She grinned, “but that’s how I like my women. Did I tell you bastards what she did to calm down those moles?”

Merlwyb meant the Kobold. “She got us to give up some of that adventurer land. And godsdamnit, it worked.”

Kan-e-Senna, however, continued to peer at Minfilia. Something felt wrong about her, familiar and yet not - and it wasn’t simply the kobold ears. No, there was something she would need to ask the other Padjal about it. And yet, she had managed to ignite their passion. “We Gridanians have no love for war… yet we have still less for those who would threaten our homeland. Ever have we fought to protect those things we hold dear, and this shall never change.

Gridania will go to war. We will fight the Empire, for the sake of the realm and all who abide here!”

That was right. It was war, Minfilia knew, and she gripped her fists tight. A burn filled her throat. A pain entered her head.

Wait, no. That was not the kind of pain which was anything but an Echo vision. Fuck, not now - she felt herself blacking out, as Cid held onto her.

“You propose… what, exactly?”

Minfilia was not in control. Minfilia was not moving, but she was seeing though the eyes of that other person. Azem. She stood before many others, in blackened robes - at a round table, all of them focused on her. While they all wore red masks, they all had different markings.

Minfilia realised, deep within, that they reminded her of Ascians. One of them stood tall, the one who spoke. “You know we cannot allow them in.”

“Because they are dangerous, correct?” Azem said, and Minfilia felt dread bubbling in her throat. “You do not know them. Have you ever spoken with them?”

The other figure shook his head, hand on the table. “They are barred from Amaurot for a reason, Azem.”

“And that reason is stupid!”

Every movement Azem made was full of passion, a fire burning within - and Minfilia was being pulled along for the ride. “The Warriors may be called such, but they have dreams like us! They have hope like us! They just wish to see us, Lahabrea!”

“Really, now.” The figure who was speaking to her shared a name with an Ascian, but Minfilia had never heard that name. Still, deep within, terror filled her soul as Lahabrea growled. “We all believe the best of people, Azem. But we both know what happened last time we let them in.”

Lahabreas’ gaze, from beneath his mask, turned to the one robed in white. He sat in a wheelchair - more organic then those of Eorzea. The man in white was quiet, tapping his legs. They pinged, crystal-esque sounds echoing though the chamber. Azem seemed to know what had happened, but Minfilia didn’t.

Hythlodaeus was not around to speak, either. Azem gazed to look over at another masked man, before shaking their head. No. Couldn’t rely on family. “We have had issues with our own people. Would you paint us all with the brush of meddlers and troublemakers?”

“You know this is different. We only have your word, Azem,” Lahabrea replied, bitterly. “You may have the duty of exploring the Star, but that is no reason to open our gates.”

“But—!” Azem stammered.

The white-robed person spoke. His voice was hauntingly familiar to Minfilia, as if she’d heard it from somebody she treasured dearly. “I am sorry, Lahabrea, Azem. But I must agree with the majority. I believe that someday, those Warriors might be friends. They have seen and know too many things…”

Azem turned away from them. Minfilia had never felt such anger within her body, even if this was not her own. “I shall prove their kindness to you. I promise. The world needs us. Let us move on.”

Azem walked out. As they walked out, Hythlodaeus was at the door, shaking their head. The vision faded with them hand-in-hand, Hythlodaeus letting out little tsks and comfort.