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Although the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had officially disbanded, its former members seemed bound to continue meeting by fate, or at least coincidence. Alisaie and Alphinaud, on their way home to pick up a few of their belongings, chanced upon Urianger, who was accompanied by Krile and G’raha. The group of five decided to make their way to the Baldesion Annex, stopping on the way to physically pick up a napping Y’shtola and her makeshift mattress of voidsent-related literature.
The assembled Scions, upon arriving in the main hall, found that the room was already occupied by a familiar face. The Warrior of Light, skin pale and hair unkempt, was sitting with a book in their lap, staring down at the open table of contents with the eyes of a dead Namazu. The walls were covered in pages of notes that ranged from organized timetables to unhinged scribbles of fish-like shapes, as well as multiple instances of full sheets of paper that only said ‘RUBY DRAGON REAL??’
“... My friend,” Alphinaud uttered, “are you alright?”
The Warrior of Light let out a high-pitched whine.
“It appears that they have already expired,” Krile commented.
G’raha was already at the Warrior’s side, gripping their limp arm to try and pull them up. “Come on,” he said, grunting, “you can’t keep doing this.”
“The next Ku’er window is in sixteen hours and four minutes,” they mumbled.
“I’m sure it is.”
“Where am I?” Y’shtola half-yawned, still draped onto Urianger’s back much like a cat-shaped cloak.
Once the group had plopped Y’shtola down in a chair and wrangled the savior of the star onto a blanket to get some much-needed sleep, the remaining Scions turned their attention to matters of sustenance. It wasn’t long before they had unpacked an all-too-large lunch order, picking up boxes of takeout from the Last Stand and borrowing from a reluctant Krile’s secret stash of alcohol. They assembled a pile of crates as a makeshift table, set the food and drink atop it, then sat around them in a circle, already beginning the festivities with some loose-lipped chatter.
“And then she says, ‘I’ll show you who’s an opo-opo,’ and bam! A good solid kick, and Jullus falls to the ground, clutching his precious jewels!” Alisaie exclaimed. The following peel of laughter was matched by most of her fellow Scions, although Alphinaud couldn’t help but wince.
“It did look quite painful,” he said quietly.
“A pain well deserved,” Alisaie quipped back.
Alphinaud just shook his head, but offered no statement in return.
As the laughter died down, Y’shtola took a moment to turn to Urianger. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” she said, “where is Thancred? I assumed the two of you were usually glued at the hip.”
Urianger either didn’t understand Y’shtola’s meaning, or didn’t acknowledge it. “Our boon companion hath opted to remain at Camp Broken Glass to continue what he claim’d to be training most intensive.”
“Intense training?” Y’shtola asked, frowning. “What for?”
Urianger shook his head. “Of that, I know not.”
Y’shtola went quiet, pursing her lips as she pondered the mysteries of Thancred. It took a moment for her to realize the conversation had gone into a lull. She looked up to see the whole group frozen, staring at the couch that the twins were sitting on. The Warrior of Light, wobbling and unsteady, had risen up from behind the plush seating. They stumbled forward, holding themself up on the back of the couch before leaning in between the twins.
“Hey,” they slurred. “Are we talkin’ about Thancred?”
“When did you wake up?” Alphinaud asked, perplexed.
“And when did you grab a drink?” Alisaie followed, snatching the bottle of booze out of the Warrior’s hand.
G’raha’s gaze moved from the Warrior of Light to the crate the drinks were sitting on. “We were watching them the whole time.”
The Warrior of Light, looking entirely too pleased with themself, flashed their ninja job stone. As the group collectively sighed in exasperation, the realm’s savior made another move for the drink Alisaie had grabbed, though she quickly pulled it out of reach.
“No,” she snapped. The bottle was then snatched out of her hand, and when she turned to look, Urianger was holding it away, shaking his head. She made a face at him, and he gave her a stern expression in return.
The Warrior of Light belched. “Anyway,” they said, “Did I ever tell you all about my Thancred theory?” As G’raha approached to try and herd them back to the blanket, they took a sip of a second bottle they had been hiding behind the couch.
“No,” G’raha said firmly, pulling it out of their hands.
The Warrior of Light turned to G’raha and made a deflated noise. “I’m an adult,” they whined.
G’raha leaned in, eyes widening as he looked at the collection of bottles the Warrior of Light had taken. “How many of these have you had?” He asked, kneeling down to gather them.
“Those are all full,” they mumbled. “I just wanted to see how many I could get before you all noticed.”
Krile, sitting next to Y’shtola as both of them watched the events unfold with moderate amusement, decided to humor them. “Well? What’s your Thancred theory, then?”
As G’raha stood up with an armful of unopened bottles, the Warrior of Light smiled broadly. “Okay,” they said, “hear me out. Hear me out, hear me out. I know this doesn’t make any sense, but… and bear with me on this: What if Thancred and Lahabrea never swapped back?”
The room went dead silent. The various Scions repeatedly glanced at each other in an attempt to silently confirm amongst themselves that they had all heard correctly.
“I... pardon?” G’raha stuttered.
The Warrior of Light quickly reached over and swiped a bottle out of G’raha’s arms while he was too bamboozled to refuse. “Remember when we went to the Praetorium?” They asked, briefly stopping to snap off the bottle cap between their teeth. “And I did a bunch of rad stuff, and then I came back, and Thancred wasn’t Lahabrea’d anymore?”
“Of course,” Alphinaud said slowly. “Is… is your theory that Lahabrea remained inside Thancred’s body, and continues to control him to this day?”
“No,” they replied. “Well, yes. Sort of. Kind of.”
“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” G’raha urged.
“No,” Y’shtola called out, smirking and swirling her glass of wine. “Let them continue. This is good.”
“Need we?” Alphinaud asked. “This is clearly nonsense. If Lahabrea was still Thancred, then why would he have helped us defeat Emet-Selch? Or Elidibus?”
The Warrior of Light snapped their fingers. “No, no no, see, that’s the second part of my theory. What if, uh, well…” They paused, cleared their throat, then continued, “What if Lahabrea was actually just, like, a cool normal person who thinks genocide is bad, and none of us realized it? But they didn’t want to say it, because, I mean, why would we trust them, right? That’d be crazy. So they’re just pretending to be Thancred, and they’re helping us, but they can’t tell us who they really are.”
“And what evidence do you have for this theory, exactly?” G’raha asked, clearly skeptical.
“I met Lahabrea,” they replied. “He was okay.”
“... Excuse me?”
The Warrior of Light swayed, leaning forward on the couch. “He used to be a wife guy.”
As the rest of the group just stared, attempting to comprehend that explanation, Krile chimed in. “Surely, if this all were the case, he would have said something by now,” she brought up. “There’d be no reason to hide anything anymore.”
The Warrior of Light shrugged. “I, uh… I dunno. He also spent, like, five years pretending he wasn’t basically Ryne’s dad, when he was clearly Ryne’s dad.” They belched again. “Thancred’s a lotta things, but emotionally secure is not one of them.”
“Well, that part’s true,” Alisaie muttered.
“It seems suspect that at least one amidst present company hath not realized,” Urianger commented. “Such a shift in one of our boon compatriots would not have gone unnoticed.”
“Okay,” the Warrior of Light said, “okay, okay, okay. But.” They held up a finger. “But think about it. Right? Plausible deniability. If you noticed something was funny about our guy Thancred, your first thought wouldn’t be that he’s still possessed by an Ascian, right? You’d just think ‘oh, he’s feeling goofy because he just finished getting possessed.’ And then maybe Lahabrea got better at acting the role. Or maybe they were just kind of similar to begin with, so we didn’t notice. We didn’t see the first time, right?”
Urianger hummed thoughtfully. Alphinaud looked at him, aghast.
“Surely, we’re not humoring this?” He asked. He turned to the Warrior of Light. “What you’re presenting is a much more convoluted reality than the idea that Thancred is simply Thancred.”
“That’s why it’s a theory,” they retorted. “It just could be true. It could be not true. Who knows?”
Y’shtola chose this moment to speak up again. “Were Thancred being actively possessed by one of the unsundered, the aetherical density of his being would be much higher than any of us. It would be extremely unlikely that fact would have gone unnoticed all this time. At the very least, I would have been able to see it.”
That comment gave the Warrior of Light pause—but not for long. “Your eyes only got funny after the banquet, right? The theoretical swap happened before then, so you wouldn’t have an actual record of what Thancred’s aether looked like before that point.”
“Perhaps,” Y’shtola said, “but that doesn’t discredit the rest of my statement.”
“Smelly as they were, the Ascians were smart,” the Warrior replied. “Maybe he’s hiding it, somehow. Maybe it’s just a little speck of Lahabrea aether controlling Thancred. Anything’s possible.”
“I don’t understand,” Alphinaud cut in, looking up at his friend with no small amount of concern. “Don’t you trust Thancred?”
“Oh, of course. I love that dude,” the Warrior of Light said. “He’s great.”
With the confusion on his face only growing, Alphinaud continued, “then why would you continue to humor this theory? Thancred has been a stalwart ally and friend to all of us through countless calamities. Surely, he deserves better than to be scrutinized as a theoretical Ascian?”
The Warrior of Light scoffed. “Oh, this is nothing,” they insisted. “Do you guys want to hear about my Estinien theories?”
Alisaie’s lone “yes, absolutely” was drowned out by the rest of the Scions’ vehement rejections. G’raha, having returned the unopened bottles to the table, returned to the Warrior of Light’s side, herding them back to the blanket.
“Come, my friend,” he said quietly, “perhaps you need more rest.”
“Hands off the merchandise, Grandpa.”
“G-Grandpa?”
As G’raha ushered his friend back to sleep, the rest of the Scions stopped and sat in complete silence, marred only by the whining noises of the Warrior of Light in the back of the room.
Alphinaud spoke up first. “Perhaps we should strike this conversation from our memory. Our friend does not appear to be in their right—”
“What if they’re right, though?” Alisaie whispered conspiratorially.
“Alisaie,” Alphinaud stressed disapprovingly.
“Or maybe they’re just on the right track,” Alisaie continued, smirking, “but Thancred’s actually been a ghost this whole time. Or an auspice, perhaps.”
“That would seem more sensible than his being an Ascian,” Urianger mused.
Krile leaned in, looking in disbelief at the thoughtful expressions on Urianger and Y’shtola’s faces. “We can’t really be thinking about this,” she said, aghast. “Perhaps there is some infinitesimally small chance that Thancred is secretly an Ascian, but the same could be said of any among us.”
“Only one among us has actually been possessed by an Ascian, though,” Alisaie pointed out.
“Cut it out, Alisaie,” Alphinaud said. “Don’t encourage their wild theory.”
“And why not?” Alisaie retorted, frowning. “It’s all in good fun, isn’t it? It’s not as though anyone here is being serious about the possibility.” She paused, looking around at the other Scions. “Right?”
The moment of silence that followed lingered long enough to rise to its feet, jump onto the table, and stare into the souls of everyone there before being dispelled by Y’shtola’s voice. “No, of course not,” she said. “‘Tis an absurd theory.”
“On that, we are agreed,” Urianger murmured.
“Utterly incomprehensible,” Alphinaud said, nodding.
“I don’t know how they did this,” G’raha said, walking back to the group while holding up an unopened, yet empty, bottle.
There was a mutual pause of consideration between the assembled Scions as they beheld the abnormal bottle. A short peel of laughter escaped Alisaie’s lips, followed by assorted chuckles and chortles from everyone else as the mood removed itself from that which had just occurred. The rest of the night was filled with pleasant conversation, good food and drink, and occasional, uncertain glances back at the Warrior of Light.
Alisaie and Alphinaud had grown used to the previously unfathomable cold of Garlemald, though better preparation, in the form of exceptionally fluffy new winter garb Ameliance had forced upon the two, helped them to stay warm. Alphinaud had willingly and comfortably enveloped himself in his plush mountain of blue and white fabric, but Alisaie was less positive about the situation.
“I feel like a stuffed porxie,” she grumbled, waddling through the snow in thick pink boots, her mittened hands forming the best approximation of a fist she could muster. The pink down jacket that covered her frame looked several sizes too large, but on the inside, it was actually a perfect fit; it was just so thick and warm that Alisaie’s arms were perpetually raised at a slight angle off her torso.
Alphinaud, dressed similarly, offered a smile from somewhere within the endless cavern of his jacket’s hood. “At least you and Angelo will now match.”
“Were I capable of moving my fingers individually, I would strangle you,” Alisaie growled.
“‘Tis why I said it, sister,” Alphinaud replied.
As Alisaie turned to glare daggers at her brother, Alphinaud began to waddle toward Camp Broken glass slightly faster. Alisaie gave chase, and the two moved urgently at moderate speeds. Just past the border of the camp, Alisaie began considering taking off her heavy boots to catch Alphinaud properly, cold be damned. Before she could decide, however, she realized he had stopped. She hurried to catch up to him, her gaze quickly moving from her brother to the person standing in front of him.
“Oh,” she said, “Thancred.”
Thancred, donning a more reasonably sized winter coat with an apron draped over the front of it, looked down at the twins with a restrained smile on his face. “Alisaie, Alphinaud,” he said, “I hardly recognized you two. Your new clothes certainly seem… warm.”
“I might rather freeze to death,” Alisaie grumbled.
“Why the change, then?” Thancred asked.
Alphinaud, face flushed, mumbled, “They were a present from our mother.”
Thancred chuckled. “Ahh, of course, of course.” He stepped aside, turning to some kind of contraption behind him. Curious, the twins circled around to the other side of said device: a drum of ceruleum hooked up to a set of burners. A rack of metal bars was set atop the burners, and sizzling meat set atop that.
“Thancred, are you… cooking?” Alphinaud asked.
Pursing his lips, Thancred turned his gaze and replied, “The Lopporits wished to know more about cooking techniques on Etheirys, so I figured I would pitch into their research. They were going to ask Urianger, but I volunteered in his stead.”
“This is the intensive training Urianger was talking about?” Alisaie asked, skeptical.
“Well, I am training, and there is an occasion for it,” Thancred explained. “One moment…” He reached one hand into his pocket, digging for something while the other hand reached for a metal implement, idly flipping a puck of meat. “Ah, here we go,” he said. He pulled out a sheet of paper, unfurling it and handing it to Alisaie.
She quickly scanned the page, paused, then read it again. “A… cooking competition?”
Alphinaud leaned over to read it as well, then turned back to Thancred, surprised. “This doesn’t seem like something you would usually be interested in,” he said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Alisaie murmured.
Alphinaud turned to look at her. “Hm?”
Alisaie pointed to a line on the paper she was holding, and Alphinaud leaned back over to read it in full.
“GARLEAN FATHER’S DAY GRILLING COMPETITION
Are you a dad? Can you cook a burger? Prove you’re the DAD-LIEST DAD in Garlemald this father’s day in our open grilling competition! The best burger wins!
PRIZES:
1st Place: 10,000 gil
2nd Place: 5,000 gil
3rd Place: 2,000 gil
Free lunch provided!”
“Ah,” Alphinaud said quietly. “I see.”
Too engrossed in toasting buns on his grill to read into the twins’ conversation, Thancred explained, “It used to be a yearly tradition here. Supply issues meant that ceruleum grilling died out quickly as a hobby, but with the reconstruction efforts, there’s been a push to revive aspects of Garlean culture. This is one of them, apparently.”
Alphinaud nodded. “A worthwhile effort, I would say. So you’re participating in order to contribute to the regrowth of the culture of Garlemald?”
Thancred, midway through burger construction, paused to answer, “Well, yes. That, and the favor to Urianger and his rabbit children. Two birds with one stone, I suppose.”
Alisaie raised an eyebrow. “No other reasons? Especially any related to fatherly pride?”
In response, Thancred turned and gave the twins a pointed look, though neither he nor the twins knew what, exactly, he was trying to convey with it. In lieu of any further response, he handed both the twins a paper plate, each adorned with a freshly crafted burger.
“Oh,” Alphinaud said.
Alisaie looked at the plate, then back at Thancred. “Can you actually cook?”
Thancred rolled his eyes. “I guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?”
After sharing a look of hesitation, Alisaie and Alphinaud each took their plate, brought up a hand to grab their burger, and then both paused as they realized they were still wearing mittens. The two looked at each other again, then Alisaie handed her plate to Alphinaud, who held both as Alisaie pulled her mittens off with her teeth, then shoved them in her pocket before she rubbed her hands together. She grabbed both burgers, holding one up to Alphinaud’s mouth as she bit down on her own in the other. Alphinaud frowned, but accepted the situation, taking a bite of his burger.
Thancred waited, staring eagerly at the two as they chewed. After a few trepidatious moments, both twins nodded in approval.
“Why, Thancred, this is quite good!” Alphinaud said.
“Mmmf,” Alisaie agreed, still chewing.
Thancred smiled widely. “Excellent. I’ve been working on this particular recipe for some time, after all.”
“The sharp flavor profile of the sauce works quite well with the rich meat patty,” Alphinaud continued. He turned to his sister. “What do you think, Alisaie?”
Alisaie swallowed a particularly large bite, then nodded. “It’s good. The meat’s a little dry for my liking, however.”
Thancred frowned, grabbing the extra burger he’d said aside and taking a bite of it. He chewed, then chewed, then chewed again before swallowing and nodding grimly. “You’re right,” he said, sighing. “It is dryer than before. I’m not sure if I cooked it too long, or if it was something I changed with the patty’s seasoning…” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad, flipping through multiple heavily marked pages.
“I think it’s fine,” Alphinaud insisted.
Alisaie rolled her eyes. “Don’t placate him, brother. If it’s for a competition, we need to provide honest feedback.”
“I’m not placating him,” Alphinaud retorted. “And could you hold the plates for a moment so I can take off my own—”
Alphinaud was interrupted as Alisaie shoved his burger into his mouth, reducing him to muffled chewing noises. As Alphinaud was silenced and Thancred was distracted reading through his burger notes, Alisaie took a moment to study the latter.
Thancred certainly looked the same as ever, although that was still in line with the theory. Alisaie stared into his face, digging deeper for any sign of duplicity or falsehood, and found nothing. Nothing she could notice, at least, before Thancred turned to look back at her.
“What?” He asked. “Is there something on my face?”
“Can I ask you a hypothetical question, Thancred?” Alisaie asked.
Thancred nodded slowly. “I… sure. What is it?”
At this point, Alphinaud had stacked Alisaie’s empty plate beneath his own and taken off one mitten to snatch his burger from Alisaie’s hand. He looked at her, confused. “Alisaie?”
“You aren’t hiding anything, are you?” Alisaie asked. “And if you were, you’d tell us?”
Thancred just blinked, seeming to genuinely stop and rack his brain to try and recall anything that fit the bill. “I get asked this question semi-frequently, and I assure you, I’m not currently hiding anything I’m aware of,” he replied. “And yes, I’d like to think I would tell you.”
“But it could be something you’re unaware of,” Alisaie mused.
Alphinaud’s face fell into a stern frown. “Alisaie,” he said cautiously, “You aren’t really thinking about…?”
Alisaie just shrugged, taking another bite of her burger.
Thancred looked between the two, confused. “Well, clearly I’m not the one hiding something,” he commented. “What’re you two going on about?”
“Nothing important,” Alphinaud insisted. “Alisaie’s been fixated on this inane theory our friend brought up last we met.”
Thancred paused. “Our friend?” He asked.
“The eikon-slaying one,” Alphinaud explained.
“Ah,” Thancred said. “What was this theory, then?”
“It’s really nothing,” Alphinaud said, shaking his head. “It was a jest, I believe.”
“Alisaie seems to be taking it seriously,”
“I was just curious,” she said defensively. “I don’t really believe it.”
Thancred frowned, thinking for a moment. “Is it about me?”
Alphinaud hesitated. “... Yes.”
A hum of thought, then Thancred asked, “Were they inebriated when they brought this up?”
“Yes.”
“At least a little.”
Thancred just sighed, shaking his head. “Then honestly, simply don’t tell me. I would prefer not to hold something against our friend if they spoke it while wielding a looser tongue.”
After a moment of thought, Alphinaud nodded, seeming to accept Thancred’s answer. Alisaie, however, huffed, furrowing her brow.
“You really don’t want to know?” She asked.
Thancred shook his head, grabbing a tong and using it to rub a cloth along the lines of the grate. “Not even a little,” he said, scraping out bits of burnt meat from his grill. “If everything I had said while inebriated was public knowledge, I would… hmm…” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Well, I think my membership to the Scions would have been revoked.”
“Technically, it already has,” Alphinaud chimed in. “We have been dissolved, after all.”
The two exchanged chuckles, but Alisaie butted in, still unsatisfied. “Hold on,” she said, “what have you said while inebriated, then?”
Thancred blanched. “Even if I remembered, I wouldn’t tell you. Urianger probably remembers more than I do.”
Alisaie nodded. “Right. I’ll ask Urianger, then.”
“Sure,” Thancred replied, looking down and shaking his head. After wiping off the last patch of the grill, he froze, shooting his gaze back at Alisaie. “Wait, no. Do not do that.”
“You can’t stop me,” Alisaie said, sneering.
Thancred frowned. “I don’t think your mother would be pleased to find out her daughter has become such a gossipmonger.”
“Oh, like you’re one to talk.”
Alphinaud looked between the two, holding out his hands in a diplomatic manner. “Before we leave, I just wanted to thank you for the delicious meal,” he said pointedly, glancing at Alisaie. He turned, bowing his head to Thancred. “We have some business to attend to here, and we must return to Tertium afterwards. It was good to see you, my friend.”
Alisaie’s expression promptly swapped from antagonistic back to friendly as she gave Thancred a smile and a wave.
Thancred returned the gesture. “Likewise. I’m sure I’ll see you two around while I’m here.”
As the twins turned and began to walk away, Thancred opened his notebook back up, humming thoughtfully as he flipped through his recipe.
G’raha Tia was a man of many positive qualities: he was ever patient, he was true to his word, and he would bear the weight of the star twice over for the sake of his friends. He was an ever-present, reliable figure in the lives of those who held him dear. So, when the Warrior of Light barged into his room in the early hours of morning, before the first light, and begged for his help, G’raha immediately accepted before knowing what the task actually was.
This was how he found himself at Garlemald at three in the morning, shivering in his bundled-up coat and holding a botanist’s ax in his frosted fingers.
“I just need you to hit a few nodes,” the Warrior of Light had begged. “It'll only take a couple hours.”
G’raha remembered balking at the notion, though he was beginning to doubt that the spineless, sleepless version of himself from several hours ago had offered any resistance to his friend’s plea at all. “But why?” he had asked. “Why do you need me to do this?”
“Because there’s another window at that time, but I’m running out of Hi-Cordials and I can’t be in two places at once,” they had replied.
G’raha had looked down at the Warrior of Light’s bag, bursting to the seams with Hi-Cordials, stared for several long seconds, and then looked up and protested, “You seem to have quite a few left.”
The Warrior of Light had just stared at him, bloodshot eyes brimming with tears. “But G’raha,” they had whispered. “What if I run out?”
G’raha’s fate had been sealed. He stuck his ax into the snow and began curling and uncurling his fingers, trying to get some feeling back into his extremities. A pause, then his ears perked up at the sound of someone trudging through the snow behind him, accompanied by a delicious smell. He turned to find Thancred walking towards him, boots punching holes in the deep snow with every step.
“Is that you, G’raha?” He asked. He stifled a yawn, rubbing at his eyes. “What’re you doing here so early?”
“I could ask you the same, my friend,” G’raha replied. He gave Thancred a smile that shivered in the cold. “Though, I’m uncertain if I would qualify the time as ‘early’ rather than ‘late.’”
Thancred returned the smile. “A bout of insomnia,” he explained. It was at this moment that the two friends looked at what the other was holding, Thancred looking at the ax in G’raha’s hand. “Doing some late night… botany?”
G’raha returned Thancred’s curious gaze, staring down at the en-burger’d plate in his friend’s hand. “And you’re preparing a midnight snack, I see.”
Thancred just shook his head. “At some point, I seem to have lost control of my life.”
With a smile too weary to reach his eyes, G’raha replied, “as have I.”
The two laughed the laughs of two dead men, echoing out into the empty nighttime air of the camp. Clearing his throat, Thancred held out the plate he was holding. “Would you mind trying this?” he asked.
G’raha paused, momentarily surprised. “Truly? I thought that was for you,” he said.
“I’ve eaten far too many of these in recent days,” Thancred said, shaking his head. “I’m practicing for a competition, you see. I figure that feedback from the fresh palette of another would be more useful than my tired tongue.”
G’raha gave a nod of understanding before looking hungrily at the offered plate. “Well, I’m in no position to refuse,” he said. G’raha picked up the burger in both hands, inspected it for a moment, then took an enormous bite. He chewed once, then twice, then two more times, before giving a half-chew and swallowing.
Watching curiously, Thancred asked, “Well? How was it?”
After taking another, more thoughtful bite, accompanied by equally-thoughtful chewing, G’raha eventually responded, “it’s good, I think. The cook on the burger is perfect; the texture is quite nice.”
A wide, proud smile grew from Thancred’s lips. “Excellent. I’ve been working on that aspect of the craft as of late. Glad to see my efforts have paid off.”
“May I offer a bit of criticism?” G’raha asked.
“Of course,” Thancred said, nodding. “Anything helps.”
“While this is an excellent specimen of a well-cooked burger,” G’raha began, “I fear the flavor profile is a touch… plain? I certainly wouldn’t turn it away, but if you’re entering a competition, you may wish to add some more flair.”
Thancred’s smile dropped, replaced by a perplexed frown. “The flavors are plain?” He asked. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his notepad and furiously flipping to the latest page of notes. “That’s odd… I haven’t changed anything with the sauce…” He began muttering to himself, scrawling out more culinary notes as he did so. “Perhaps something to do with the altered cooking time? Or the new lean-fat ratio…”
“I’m no expert, but I’m not sure that would affect the potency of your seasoning,” G’raha noted. As he spoke, however, his thoughts were not with his words, but rather, focused on the intricacies of Thancred’s focused expression.
There’s no way, G’raha thought to himself, it was just impossible.
“How long have you been cooking?” He asked.
Thancred’s scribbling ceased, and he looked up, thought for a moment, then answered, “Twelve hours or so.”
G’raha shook his head. “No, I mean to ask… How long have the culinary arts been an interest of yours? I wasn’t aware you had the inclination to enter such competitions.”
Thancred scoffed. “Well, truth be told, it’s not as though I’m particularly fervent about my cooking. I’m entering this competition to support local cultural restoration efforts,” he explained. He stopped, face turning thoughtfully, then added, “Though, it’s not as though I didn’t know how to cook before this. I’ve always been able to prepare food for myself, at least.”
“I see,” G’raha said, nodding. “It occurred to me that despite all we have been through, I know surprisingly little of the personal interests of my fellow Scions. I’ve known Krile the longest, and of course, my past self met our friend quite early on. I believe they were already acquainted with the rest of you by then, correct?”
Thancred paused. “Our friend?”
“The one with the echo.”
Another pause, then Thancred let out an “ah” of understanding. “Right, well, yes. They had already been a member of the Scions for some time by then, I believe.”
“I didn’t know all of you before then,” G’raha said, “but… I hear you were quite different, back in the day.”
Thancred cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”
Pursing his lips, G’raha shrugged his shoulders and tilted his head in an ineffective gesture of uncertainty. “I’ve simply heard through osmosis that you’re a changed man, though I cannot claim to know the specifics.” Following this statement, G’raha couldn’t help but study Thancred’s face carefully: a moment of hesitancy, his cheeks slightly flushed, his gaze turning—he wasn’t hiding anything, was he?
“I’d like to think I have changed for the better,” Thancred admitted. “In the past, I perhaps engaged in occasional behavior that I believe would be unbecoming of me now.”
“I’m sure it couldn’t have been too unbecoming,” G’raha said. He paused, then added, “certainly not villainous, so to say, right?”
Thancred stopped, frowned, and mouthed the word ‘villainous’ to himself. “I… no. I don’t believe so, at least.”
G’raha nodded quickly. “Right. Of course not. Certainly not.” Before Thancred could think to inquire further, G’raha’s eyes widened as he looked to the position of the moon. “The red pine,” he whispered. “It’ll be visible soon.”
“The what?” Thancred asked.
G’raha reached down and picked his ax back up, giving Thancred another nod. “It’s been wonderful chatting, Thancred, but I must go now. I will see you another time.”
As G’raha began to swiftly jog away, Thancred gave an uncertain wave to his retreating back. “Another time,” he repeated.
The boundless horizon of the Ruby Sea was unlike anything Zero had seen in some time, only matched in its vastness by the dark night sky of the Void. But whereas the view in her home shard felt empty and desolate, here, it was full of life and motion and sensation. For what amount Zero could say she understood aesthetic beauty, she would call the ocean beautiful. It was a calming experience, resting on a stool with a fishing rod in her hands, accompanied only by the sound of the waves and also the sound of her friend sitting next to her talking about something unintelligible.
“So the changes are actually pretty simple,” the Warrior of Light explained. “As long as you keep Requiescat aligned with Fight or Flight, and use Goring Blade right after, you can actually recover pretty easily if you misalign your timing.”
“I see,” Zero intoned.
“I’m going to have to update my muscle memory, though. It turns out, it’s not optimal to use Holy Spirit with the Requiescat stacks. At least, not anymore. It’s more effective to go into Confiteor right away. You know what I mean?”
“No.”
“Ah, yeah. Me neither.”
Zero turned, then asked, “Have you caught your Ruby Dragon yet?”
The Warrior of Light paused mid-breath. “Oh,” they said. “No. Actually, the window ended an hour ago. I got distracted talking about other stuff.”
“Oh.”
“Still,” the Warrior of Light said, smiling. “It’s been good to spend more time with you.”
Zero reached up, pinching the tip of her cap and bringing it down to cover her eyes as she looked away. “Mm.”
A quiet moment passed, then the Warrior of Light’s smile faded. They looked up, sniffing the air. “Do you smell catboy?”
Zero blinked, then mirrored their actions, sniffing the air in turn. “Yes, actually. I believe I do.”
The two turned to see an approaching G’raha Tia, ashen-faced and wielding a sack of Hi-Cordials. He trudged through the sand, lugging the sack over his shoulder, seeming to sink lower and lower with each step. He stopped in front of the two and held the cordials out to the Warrior of Light, arms aching. “Here… you are,” he said. “I sincerely hope these prove useful, my friend.”
Quickly taking the bag and setting it in the sand next to them, the Warrior of Light stood up and wrapped G’raha in a tight hug. “Thanks so much,” they said.
G’raha just seemed to melt, and all the frustration he had about his friend waking him up at an ungodly hour to carve wood off a tree faded away.
The Warrior of Light pulled back, giving G’raha an appreciative smile, keeping their hands on his shoulders. “I didn’t catch it this time, but that just makes it more likely I’ll get it next time.”
“That’s not how statistics work,” G’raha exhaled. Before he could engage in any further intelligent thought, the Warrior of Light patted him on the head, then reached forward to scratch behind one of his ears. He gave a long, long sigh, sinking down until he was sitting on the sand, slumped over in a warm heap.
As the Warrior of Light collected their ax from G’raha’s person, Zero piped up, asking, “Is he dead?”
“No,” the Warrior of Light replied. “He’ll be back online in a few seconds.” They paused, looking between their two friends. “This is G’raha, by the way. He’s a buddy of mine.”
Zero nodded. She watched G’raha, and, as expected, he shook his head and his eyes regained consciousness a moment later. He offered Zero a smile and a wave, which she returned with a nod. He then looked back up at the Warrior of Light.
“I ran into Thancred on the way,” G’raha said.
The Warrior of Light blinked. “Oh. How’d that go?”
“I don’t think he’s secretly Lahabrea.”
A bark of laughter escaped the Warrior of Light’s lips. “You got any proof?”
G’raha frowned, hands on his hips. “Well, he… he seemed the same as always.”
“That does fall in line with the theory,” they pointed out.
Behind them, Zero perked up, feeling a bite on her line. She grabbed her fishing rod and began to tug as the conversation continued next to her.
“I asked him about his past,” G’raha explained, “and his answer seemed honest enough.”
The Warrior of Light paused.
“Wait,” they asked, “did you ask him directly?”
“No,” G’raha admitted. “I considered it, but it was too ridiculous a question to actually pose.”
Sighing with a hint of disappointment, the Warrior of Light shook their head. “Come on, G’raha,” they said, “where’s that scientific curiosity of yours? You’ll never know for sure if you don’t ask.”
“Then how can you be sure, yourself?” G’raha asked.
“I’m not,” they reminded him. “It’s just a theory. Remember?”
G’raha groaned. “This conversation is meaningless,” he said, giving a dismissive wave of farewell. “I’m returning to Sharlayan, and then I’m returning to bed.”
The Warrior of Light reached out, patting G’raha on the shoulder. “Good idea,” they said. “Safe travels.”
G’raha gave a weary smile, and waved again at Zero, who was staring blank-faced at her unmoving rod and the lack of fish in her hands. After waiting a moment, G’raha nodded to himself, turned around, and began to retrace his footsteps in the sand, heading back towards the nearest Aetheryte.
The Warrior of Light sat back down. “Did you get anything?”
“No.” Zero said. She turned to look at the retreating catboy in the distance. “What was that about?
“Oh, that? I, uh…” They pursed their lips, tilting their head thoughtfully. “I was feeling a little loopy, and I shared this theory I have about Thancred: that he’s actually an Ascian or whatever, and has just been hiding it from all of us. It was just a joke, really, but I think the others have really latched onto it.”
“Mm.”
“But, I mean, maybe that’s a coincidence,” the Warrior of Light continued. “Alisaie and Alphinaud just went to go see him for some unrelated work reason, and G’raha was just there because I pestered him. I can’t imagine anyone else would actually go harass him about it. But still, I mean, he’s always been kind of a loner. He’s had, like, sad vibes ever since we left the First, too. So this might be a good thing, you know?”
Zero nodded. “I see.” She looked back towards the ocean, stared out for a moment, then turned back and asked, “Who is Thancred?”
From the moment she arrived in Camp Broken Glass, Y’shtola set right out to her business. She teleported in using the Aetheryte while carrying a tall wooden stool, then circled the camp until she found Thancred.
“Oh,” he said, “fancy seeing you here.”
“Thancred,” she greeted.
Not bothering to comment on the grill or the frilled apron or the scent of sizzling seared meats, Y’shtola set her stool on the ground, sat on it, and began to stare at Thancred. He waited a moment for her to say something or give an explanation, then continued to wait until he realized that she simply wasn’t going to.
“Can… Can I help you with something?” he asked.
“Give me a moment,” Y’shtola said. Her eyes had narrowed, deeply focused as she stared directly at Thancred’s midsection. “I’m figuring that out right now.”
Thancred looked down at his apron, then back up to Y’shtola. “Is there something on me?”
“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Oh,” Thancred said. “Right.” He nodded slowly, giving Y’shtola another moment to explain herself. When she silently declined, he glanced back at his grill. “Well, while you’re doing… whatever it is you’re doing, can I keep going about my business?”
Y’shtola nodded. “I see no issue with that.”
“Great.”
Thancred continued to work on his burgers while Y’shtola simply sat in the snow, staring at him. Her gaze did not waver, and he stopped for a moment, watching to make sure she was blinking. His deep respect for Y’shtola, combined with the slight lingering fear of her that all the Scions shared, allowed Thancred to cook in silence for twenty further seconds without speaking up about whatever was happening.
As Thancred was sucking in a breath to finally ask, Y’shtola spoke up. “I had heard through the grapevine you’ve been working on honing your culinary talents, but I have to admit, I’m still surprised to see you working so diligently on this competition.”
Thancred scoffed. “What, am I not allowed interests outside of sneaking about and saving the star?”
Y’shtola hummed thoughtfully, her lips slightly upturned.
Thancred scowled. “Besides, I don’t think I’m the one doing something strange here. I would really like to know what you’re doing.”
“I’m checking up on you,” Y’shtola said. “Making sure everything is as it should be.”
Thancred chewed those words over as he took his patties off the grill, placing them atop toasted buns. “That explains nothing,” he said. “Why do you feel the need to check up on me?” He froze, looking down at his apron again, then turning back to Y’shtola, slightly more urgency in his tone. “There’s nothing wrong with me, is there?”
“Something wrong?” Y’shtola asked. “Could you specify?”
“You know…” Thancred gestured with mittened hands. “With my aether. Like on the First, when our friend’s being became fractured.”
Y’shtola tilted her head, looking to the side while knocking on her cheek with a closed fist. “Our friend? Which friend?”
Thancred rolled his eyes. “You know exactly which friend I am referring to.”
“We really must start referring to them by name more.”
“Agreed.”
“Anyway, no,” Y’shtola said, “nothing is wrong with your aether.” She squinted. “Not as far as I can see, at least.”
“Oh. Well, that’s good.”
Despite her words, Y’shtola continued to stare intently at Thancred. The only reason Thancred didn’t immediately ask about this was that his untopped burgers were swiftly going cold in the Garlean snow. He allotted her enough silent watching time for him to finish constructing his burgers, then turned to her again. “If I give you one of these,” he said, holding out a plate, “will you tell me what you’re doing then?”
Y’shtola blinked, considering the proposal. “Perhaps.”
Thancred just rolled his eyes. “Well, try it regardless. I would like to know your opinion.”
Hesitantly, Y’shtola accepted the plate. She shifted her posture, sitting up straight on her wooden stool as she took a bite of the burger. “It’s… passable,” she said after a moment of thought. “I would not turn it down, if offered.”
Thancred frowned. “Just passable?”
Y’shtola took another bite, chewed, considered, then swallowed. “I’m certain you are looking for honest feedback, so I shall not mince words. It is a mediocre burger, plain and simple.” Taking the immediate shoulder slump and lack of verbal response as despondency from Thancred, Y’shtola added, “That is not to say there is anything terribly wrong with it, but… perhaps it would be best to take inspiration from another source? Consider the flavor profile of the burger from the Last Stand, for instance.”
“That’s where I began,” Thancred mumbled, “but I appear to have wandered elsewhere: somewhere entirely bereft of flavor or substance.”
Y’shtola got up from her stool, walked over to Thancred, and patted him on the shoulder. As she did, however, she placed her plate on his grill-side table, leaving her burger there, unfinished. As she walked back to her stool, picking it up and holding it against her side, Thancred could feel himself contributing significantly to the negatively-charged dynamis of the star.
“Well, I must be off,” Y’shtola said. “Good luck with your work, Thancred.”
Thancred simply grunted, staring down into the snow as Y’shtola approached the Aetheryte and teleported away. It took more than a few moments for him to shake off his grief and turn in the direction Y’shtola had left, about to call out and ask what she’d been doing here in the first place. When he realized she was already gone, he slumped further, sitting sadly on the ground.
On the best of days, Ericthonios would describe his relationship with his father as ‘improving,’ but on every other day, he wouldn’t know what to say. Regardless, that was still somehow an improvement, and one of the few happenings he would be grateful for in regards to that which had unfolded within the depths of Pandæmonium.
As Ericthonios walked the paths of the Twelve Wonders, one of other said happenings happened upon him. Next to the Aetheryte in the center of the outpost, he saw the warrior who had aided him and Themis in their quest. He called out, walking over with a wave. The Warrior of Light returned the gesture, raising their left arm in greeting, the other clutching an enormous sack they had been dragging across the ground.
Ericthonios stopped, looking down at the sack. “Hail, friend. What’ve you got there?”
The Warrior of Light paused, glanced down at the sack, then looked back to meet Ericthonios’s gaze. “It’s, uh… rarefied annite. I need it for stuff.”
“Ah, I see,” Ericthonios said. He chuckled. “I would ask you if you have the necessary permits to gather here, but I’ve heard that Azem isn’t always one to go through the proper channels. I certainly won’t say anything about it.”
The Warrior of Light just smiled and nodded and ignored the cold sweat dripping down the back of their neck.
“Still, it is good to see you, my friend,” Ericthonios said. “Since that business with my father and his double, I fear we haven’t gotten the chance to see each other as of late.”
“Ahh, yeah,” The Warrior of Light responded. “Good to see you, too.” They paused, then scrunched up their lips in thought for a moment.
Ericthonios blinked. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I wanted to ask you a question,” the Warrior of Light responded.
“Sure.”
“It’s a weird question.” the Warrior of Light added.
“Alright, what is it?”
“If your father were…” They pursed their lips, considering their wording. “If your father had secretly been possessing someone for, uh, years, let’s say, do you think there’s a way you’d be able to tell for sure it was actually him?”
Ericthonios just stared.
“Eric?” the Warrior of Light asked.
A third figure, clad in white robes, walked up to join the conversation then, a bright smile on his soft, serene face. “What a coincidence,” Themis said, “to see the two of you here.”
Expression completely blank, Ericthonios turned and just nodded to Themis. The Warrior of Light, on the other hand, gave the emissary a wink as he approached.
“Hey, baby girl,” the Warrior of Light said. They turned back to Ericthonios. “Look, uh, dumb question. Ignore me. I, uh, I gotta go.” They turned to Themis, slapped him on the ass, then turned to the Aetheryte and teleported away in a blink of light.
Ericthonios’s gaze turned repeatedly between the Aetheryte and Themis, whose nonchalant expression was not phased in the slightest.
“What?” Themis asked.
“I have a lot of questions,” Ericthonios said.
Despite the veritable mountain of reasons that the Warrior of Light’s theory was abject nonsense, Urianger could not stop his thoughts from continually wandering back to it. The workings of his own mind eluded him, as there was no plausible reason he needed to continue devoting brainpower to the idea. Even a mind as inquisitive as his understood that this thought process was a dead end: the same end he continued to walk face-first into, again and again.
It was possible it was because the Warrior of Light themself had suggested the idea. The realm’s savior backing a theory certainly lended it more credence, or at least, it did until Urianger remembered that it had been brought up while they had been inebriated, and also that their friend was one of the few members of the Scions without a formal degree from Sharlayan. Although, Urianger supposed, the latter was not necessarily a sign of intelligence, nor its absence the lack thereof. It was a bad theory regardless, but Urianger did take a moment to consider his personal biases.
Despite frequently reassuring himself that there was nothing to be concerned about, Urianger could not let go of the idea that Thancred was hiding something. That was it, certainly: some other, more likely secret, rather than whatever Ascian-flavored nonsense the Warrior of Light had concocted in the alchemical workshop of their mind.
And so, the next time Urianger went to see Thancred, he decided it was best to have a frank and honest conversation with his partner. Not directly regarding the wild theory, of course, but rather, a discussion of theoretical changed forms, and if love could persist and adapt through the shifting of one’s self. Urianger posed his hypothetical question, carefully considered and worded, as the two stood in front of Thancred’s ceruleum grill, standing in the cold outside of Camp Broken Glass.
“If you were a worm?” Thancred repeated, baffled.
Urianger shook his head. “Nay. I asked if thou wouldst still love me were I a great wyrm, comparable in size and power to Midgardsormr and his kin.”
“I…” Thancred nearly flipped a burger off the side of his grill, gawking at Urianger and trying to read any intention from his serious visage. “Urianger, what in the name of the Twelve are you talking about?”
“‘Tis a serious query,” Urianger explained. “I need know if thy love be true, despite any shifts in my physical form.”
Thancred scratched his head. “I mean, yes, I believe I still would love you. I’m no Shiva, but I don’t see why my feelings would change if you were a wyrm.”
“I see,” Urianger mused.
“Did…” Thancred paused, thinking, then shook his head. “No, I can’t even think of a hypothetical scenario that would drive you to ask me this. What brought this up, exactly?”
“‘Twas a mere flight of fancy,” Urianger explained. “I was musing on the nature of secrecy between those bound by the ties of companionship.”
Thancred raised an eyebrow. “So, what, it’s actually you who’s secretly been a dragon this entire time?”
Urianger laughed a hearty laugh, despite Thancred not thinking his comment to be all that funny. “Nay,” Urianger said, “I have not.”
Thancred crossed his arms. “Then, what, exactly? What is…” He gestured towards Urianger nonspecifically. “What’s been happening?”
“Is thine query regarding mine own, or art thou questioning me regarding another point entirely?” Urianger asked. Urianger asked.
Thancred just sighed, raising his arms and letting them fall to his side. “Both, I believe. You know, the twins came here not too long ago, pestering me about some sort of vague secret. Y’shtola showed up to inspect my health, and G’raha… well, G’raha was here against his will, but he questioned me nonetheless. And now, you, my love, are here, asking me about secrecy and wyrms and whatnot. I don’t know what I’m meant to take from all this.”
Urianger took a step forward, putting a gentle hand on Thancred’s shoulder. “‘Twas truly a mere inquiry,” he said, “I mean not to imply dishonesty within our bond most sacred.”
Thancred took a step back, letting Urianger’s hand fall to his side. “I know,” he said. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… well, it’s embarrassing, damnit.”
“What is embarrassing?” Urianger asked, puzzled.
“I thought I was at least decent at hiding my feelings, but no less than half the former Scions have come to inquire about my well-being, present company included.” Thancred sighed, shaking his head. “Is my current mental state really so obvious? Have you all been talking about me in hushed whispers behind my back? Is there a separate linkshell network for those charged with my emotional support?”
Eyes wide, Urianger took another hurried step forward, shaking his head. “Nay, of course not. Truth be told, I had no knowledge of thine plight ‘till this very moment. Please, tell me, what ails thee?”
Thancred huffed, looking away. “It’s very silly.”
“‘Tis not.”
“It is.”
“What is it, then? That I may judge its silliness.”
Grimacing, Thancred reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and handing it to Urianger. Unfolding it, Urianger began to scan its contents, reading aloud as he did so.
“A Garlean father’s day grilling competition? Art thou a father? Canst thou cooketh a burger? Proveth thou art the father of fathers in Garlemald…”
“That’s not what it says,” Thancred protested. “That’s just objectively not what the words on the poster are.”
Urianger turned to Thancred, puzzled. “I remain befuddled. Thou art under emotional duress from the words of this promotional poster?”
“Not… necessarily,” Thancred explained. “I simply… I read it, and I became more emotionally invested in the competition than I thought I would. At first, I was simply doing it for you, since you mentioned the Lopporits wanted to learn more about culinary techniques on Etheirys, and this was something neither of us had experience with, but…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Alisaie made a jab at me and my fatherly pride, and I think that was when I realized that she was likely more on the nose than she realized.”
“Lady Alisaie is wise beyond her years,” Urianger commented. “‘Tis likely she understood her words more than thou realizes.”
“I’m fairly certain she was jabbing blindly and just happened to touch upon a weak point,” Thancred grumbled.
“Perhaps,” Urianger said. “But still, what is thy concern? That if thou fails to procure the highest position in this competition, that thou art fit not to be a father?”
“No,” Thancred said. He sighed. “Maybe. It’s silly. I told you it was silly.”
Urianger nodded. “Indeed. ‘Tis silly.”
Thancred frowned, looking up at Urianger. “Thank you so much for the support, dearest.”
“‘Tis silly, for your role in Ryne’s life is without question,” Urianger explained. “Aye, thou didst make mistakes, and thou art presently unable to be near her person, but ‘tis plain to anyone who knew her that she will grow into a woman strong and true, and that is due in large part to thine nurturing.”
Thancred turned his gaze to the ground, leaning forward and resting his head against Urianger’s chest. As Urianger reached up to pat the top of Thancred’s head, Thancred mumbled, “I know she will. I just wish I could see it.”
“As do I, my love. As do I.”
Something else was pressing against Urianger—Thancred held out a plate with a burger on it, pushing it into Urianger’s stomach. “Eat this, by the way,” he said. “I changed something about the recipe.”
Urianger took a step back, accepting the plate and picking up the burger with one hand. He held it up and took a bite, chewing and chewing before he suddenly froze, eyes going wide. He swallowed and exhaled, and it felt as though his body relaxed, deflating as all the air left it at once. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked to Thancred. “My love,” he said.
“Yes?”
“‘Tis truly awful.”
“Wonderful.”
Two particular employees of Lady Mowen, the Collectible Appraiser and the Scrip Exchanger stationed in Eulmore, remained entirely confused on the whole Warrior of Darkness situation. Popular word around the remaining citadels of civilization on the First implied that the realm’s savior had left for their home, bringing the Crystal Exarch along with them. These two, however, saw the Warrior of Darkness on a near-daily basis. In reality, the Warrior of Light chose to return to Eulmore to do collectible business entirely due to both the proximity of the two employees to the Aetheryte, as well as to each other—but they didn’t know that, nor was it in their job description to ask.
On one particular day, the Warrior of Light returned again, this time to negotiate the going rate of collectible annite and red pine logs. As they did so, they turned to see the Oracles of Light and Darkness walking out of a nearby hallway, and the group quickly made eye contact.
“Oh,” the Warrior of Darkness said. “Hi.”
Gaia just offered a slight smile and a raised hand, while Ryne simply ran forward, crashing ineffectually into their friend and wrapping them in a tight hug.
“It’s good to see you!” she exclaimed. “What’re you doing here?”
The Warrior of Light smiled, returning the hug and patting Ryne on the head. “Just some business.” They paused, taking a step back while keeping their hand atop Ryne’s head. “Have you gotten taller?”
Ryne stopped, looking up as though she could determine her hypothetical height change by doing so. “Wait, have I?” She turned to Gaia questioningly, who just shrugged.
“How should I know? You look the same to me,” Gaia answered.
Frowning, the Warrior of Light put their hands on Ryne’s shoulders, walking her backwards until she was standing next to Gaia. “No, see, you two are basically the same height now,” they said.
Gaia turned to Ryne, eyes tilting to the top of her head. “No, I think I’m still slightly taller.”
Ryne frowned, straightening her back in an attempt to stretch up higher.
“Stop that,” Gaia said, frowning.
The Warrior of Light laughed. “She’ll still think you’re pretty even if she becomes taller than you, Gaia.” At that, both girls became flushed and flustered, babbling out nonsense noises as the Warrior of Light brought a hand to their chin, tilting their head thoughtfully. “Actually, what’re you two doing here? Oracle-y business?”
Ryne’s mouth clamped shut, but Gaia simply answered, “We were visiting the Beehive.”
“Gaia,” Ryne hissed, holding a finger to her lips.
“Is that… are you two allowed in there?” the Warrior of Light asked. “Did Kai-Shirr not put in an age minimum or something?”
“We’re not exactly children,” Gaia retorted. “And you could make the argument for both of us that our souls are more than old enough to go inside.”
The Warrior of Light rolled their eyes. “Look, I mean, it’s fine. I’m not going to go narc to Thancred or something. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Or some things you would do,” Gaia commented.
“Honestly, fair.”
“How is Thancred?” Ryne asked, perking up at the mention of her adoptive father.
The Warrior of Light smiled warmly. “He’s doing well, I think. After we saved the world and such, I think he and Urianger have just been on a long honeymoon. I’m not super sure on the specifics of it.”
Ryne smiled in return. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. He deserves a break. All of you do, really.” She paused, then reached into a back pocket, fishing out a slightly crinkled envelope. “Erm, if it’s not too much trouble, could you give this to him the next time you see him?”
The Warrior of Light blinked, taking the letter. “Should I ask what it is?”
“It’s just a letter,” Ryne explained, looking away.
Gaia rolled her eyes. “She’s been carrying that thing around for months on the off-chance that we ran into you again.”
Ryne’s eyes widened, and she turned to Gaia, scandalized. “D-Don’t mention that…!”
The Warrior of Light just laughed. “It’s fine,” they said. “Not my first time working postal duty. I’ll get it to him.”
Ryne turned back to the Warrior of Light, relieved. “Thank you, my friend. And… can you tell him I miss him? And Urianger as well.” She paused, then hastily added, “Of course, I miss all of you, you included, and you can tell everyone that too, but…”
The Warrior of Light pocketed the letter, nodding in understanding. “I get it,” they said. “I’ll let your dads know.”
Ryne let out a sigh through curled lips, relaxing as Gaia’s hand found its way to her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said.
When the day of the competition arrived, Thancred told himself over and over that it was the cold making him jittery, that his hands were shaking because of his thin mittens, not his nerves. There was no way he would feel more nervous standing here for a burger competition than he had while infiltrating Garlemald back during the war. He looked around, eyeing all the other competitors, lined up in front of their ceruleum gas grills.
He took a deep breath. He’d practiced for this. With each round of practice, his burger had somehow gotten worse, but he had practiced nonetheless. He could do this.
In the audience, which consisted of a few dozen curious passers-by and the entire assembled cast of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Urianger turned to his friends, pleading to them in a hushed tone. “Please, my friends, remember: no matter how his efforts turn out, we must support our dear Thancred.”
“Did you think we all showed up to not support him?” Alisaie quipped.
“Though, on that note, where is our friend?” Alphinaud asked, looking around.
A moment of silence stood among the group for a moment, unlike the Warrior of Light, who was strangely absent.
“Which friend?” Krile asked.
Alphinaud made an uncertain gesture with his hands. “You know. The one we all share.”
“That could apply to any of us here,” Y’shtola commented.
“The one who isn’t here,” Alphinaud said.
Another pause.
“Estinien?” Krile asked.
“I—no, I’m not talking about Estinien,” Alphinaud replied.
Alisaie snickered. “Rare for you.”
“Oh, hush.”
“I believe our friend had another Ruby Dragon window to catch,” G’raha chimed in. “They said they would be here as soon as they could.”
Urianger brought a finger to his lips, shushing the group. “Quiet! I believe they are announcing the results.”
Atop a small wooden stage, one Jullus pyr Norbanus waddled up to the microphone, still favoring one leg over the other. “My friends,” he called out, “thank you for waiting. The judges have conferred, and I am pleased to announce the results of the first reinstituted Garlean Father’s Day grilling competition!”
A small wave of applause went out among the assembled crowd. Alisaie cupped her hands over her mouth and made a screeching facsimile of an opo-opo’s mating call, a joke that almost no one else in the audience understood, but made Jullus flush on stage and Alphinaud reach over to cover his twin’s mouth.
Jullus cleared his throat. “Anyway… although all the competitors submitted wonderful pieces, we can only allot prizes to the top three. So, without further ado, the third place winner is…”
A hushed silence. Sharp intakes of breath.
“... Estinien Varlineau!”
The assembled Scions, as their hands clapped of their own accord, immediately jerked their gazes to the other end of the competition, where, indeed, the tall Dragoon was crossing his arms, shaking his head in disappointment.
“Damn,” he grumbled. “So close.”
A veritable cloud of tiny dragonets fluttered about his head, giving the third-place trophy holder words of reassurance.
“It’s okay, father!” one chirped.
“We still love you!” another squawked.
“You did great!”
Estinien shook his head, looking up to scowl at Orn Khai in particular. In response, the little dragon did a flip in the air.
Alphinaud looked back at the rest of the group he was standing with. “Did any of you know he was also in this?”
“No.”
“Nay.”
“I did not.”
“Do you think Estinien actually talks to any of us outside of work?”
Alphinaud scratched his head. “Fair point.”
It didn’t take long for Jullus to continue speaking. “And winning the second place prize is… another of the esteemed Scions of the Seventh Dawn, Thancred Waters!” A brief pause, then amidst the scattered applause, he muttered, “lots of non-Garlean entrants, but… sure.”
For their part, the assembled Scions clapped and cheered, pleased that two of their number had taken the second and third place prizes, respectively. Behind his grill, Thancred smiled, looking back and waving appreciatively—but his smile did not reach his lips, and his arm quickly fell to his side.
Jullus cleared his throat, signaling for silence. “And finally, the overall winner of the competition is…” He looked up, eyes sparkling with admiration. “The Black Wolf himself, Gaius van Baelsar!”
Much louder, raucous applause roared from the assembled crowd. A lone Raen woman ran out towards Gaius’s grill, stationed right in the middle of the competition, as she tackled him with a hug. Gaius caught her gracefully, lifting her up and hugging her in return.
“I did it, Allie!” Gaius exclaimed, scarcely able to believe his words.
“I’m so proud of you, father!” Allie replied, beaming.
As Jullus gave his closing remarks, much of the crowd seemed to quickly disperse, with the results being known. Some went to congratulate Gaius, some returned to their previous business, and the assembled Scions simply waited for Thancred to approach. He eventually did, shaking his head, and walking directly behind him was Estinien, who got the first word in.
He turned his head to Thancred, a difficult task to balance considering there were no less than five dragonets perched on his shoulders. “Your last name is Waters?” he asked.
About to comment on basically anything else, Thancred’s words caught on his tongue, and he eventually said, “I… yes. It is.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Alphinaud cleared his throat. “Regardless, congratulations to both of you! Taking second and third place respectively is no easy task.”
Thancred sighed. “Thank you. Thanks all of you, really, for coming out. I just wish I could have gone up one more place, you know?”
Before anyone could speak any words of comfort, the sound of someone teleporting from the nearby Aetheryte went out, and the Scions turned to see a rapidly approaching Warrior of Light. “Sorry I’m late!” they called out. They stopped in front of the group, hands on their knees, panting. “There was a Ku’er that baited me, and I tried to jump in the water and see if I could just catch the Ruby Dragon with my hands, and that didn’t work.” They paused, looking up. “Why’s Estinien here?”
Estinien made a face. “I have hobbies.”
“Huh,” the Warrior of Light said. “I didn’t know it was a squid-drying competition.”
Estinien grumbled something inaudible as the assembled dragonets on his shoulders all simultaneously went “ooooh.”
The Warrior of Light looked at Thancred, looked at the second place trophy in his hand, and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Good finish, Thancred.”
Thancred gave a thin smile. “Thank you.”
“Oh!” they said. “I’ve actually got a delivery for you.”
Thancred, puzzled, watched as the Warrior of Light reached into their pocket, pulling out a crumpled letter. He took it, eyes widening as he read the signature on the back. “It’s… from Ryne,” he said. He quickly opened it, taking a step back to read it as every busybody in the group leaned up to try and read it over his shoulder.
It took less than a minute for him to read through the whole thing, but he circled back, reading it from the beginning again and again. Eventually, he closed his watery eyes, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath. He reached out, bumping a fist against Urianger’s shoulder.
“You were right,” he said. “For all my worrying, here I am, with my second place prize and a daughter who still loves me.”
Urianger smiled. “Thou must know that she is not the only one.”
Thancred turned to see Y’shtola placing a hand on his shoulder, smiling. The twins were not so subtle with their affection, both of them wrapping Thancred in a tight hug. Krile and the Warrior of Light soon followed. G’raha opted to do the same as Y’shtola, while Estinien just watched from a distance, taking several rapid steps back.
As Thancred closed his eyes again and tried very hard not to cry, Alisaie turned to the Warrior of Light in the middle of the group hug. “Say, was this somehow your master plan all along?”
The Warrior of Light paused. “What?”
“Well, it all seems to have worked out,” she explained. “Did you somehow know Thancred was feeling insecure, and say that inane thing so that we’d all go individually to check up on him, and know to show up and comfort him at the end of this competition?”
“Oh.” The Warrior of Light scoffed. “No, I just think it’d be funny if he was secretly an Ascian this whole time.”
Thancred’s eyes snapped open and he turned to the Warrior of Light, alarmed. “What the fuck?”