All things are subject to change in the land of the living, people live, grow, move from place to place, and then die with their hearts full of regret for what they never accomplished. That's how Narsia always knew it, at least. She always knew that nothing good in life would last, for what was a life where one knew only happiness and joy? Nobody ever learned anything or became a better person in the best of times. All things changed with time, it was the way of the world.
Yet believing that as she did Narsia felt herself filled with joy as she rode into the eastern Sarutabaruta plains and found it just as she remembered it. The green grass spread for as far as she could see, covering all but the scant few outcroppings of rock that jutted from the ground, creating the small cliffs that the elvaan woman used to climb every day when she was a little girl and then found to be the greatest inconvenience later in life when she left her home regularly.
Though today she didn't mind so much the winding path she was force to take around the cliffs. Nearly two years had passed since she saw these lush fields or heard the gentle rushing water where the region's subterranean water system broke the surface. She even delighted in the sight of he Yagudo scouts who quickly ducked behind rocks to evade her notice. The primitive beastmen were vicious, but years ago she and many others taught the lot of them a lesson they wouldn't soon forget. She had nothing to fear from those undergrown black chocobos and was proud of the fact.
"Oi, they're still at it?" came the soft voice of Isilme, Narsia's partner who sat astride her own feathery mount to the summoner's left. The elvaan turned to look in the direction that her friend was staring and barely caught a glimpse of one of the bird men ducking behind a rock.
"I guess old hatreds die hard." Narsia offered, and frowned when her mithra companion's ears flattened against her head.
"How many did we beat senseless then return safely to their home out of good will?" Isilme asked and turned to Narsia, who shrugged at the question.
"Were we ever counting?" she said with sarcasm and a smile. "And that was how many years ago? My gods I can't even remember if you were at elbow level to me ye-oof!"
"Watch it." the mithra purred and withdrew her outstretched arm from Narsia's gut after lightly slapping her there as punishment for the short-joke-that-almost-was.
Narsia was actually short herself for an elvaan, who usually reached eight feet easily. She was barely six feet tall, but compared to the catlike mithra who rarely reached that height she was a giant. Growing up in the Federation capitol it was something she was often made fun of for, but those few who truly accepted Narsia cared little about that. Isilme, or Izzy as the summoner so affectionately nick-named her, was one of those few. She rather liked that Narsia was so much taller than her and considered it something of a status symbol to be friends with a giant and encouraged her childhood friend to make fun of her own small stature as her own way of bolstering her buddy's low self image. Because of that it had become something of a running gag between the two for one to make fun of the other's height and thus be 'punished' for it with everything from a light pinch to a hand upside the back of her head. Being in good fun the one on the receiving end was always a good sport about her punishment and it brought them closer together as the years went by.
"Oh well, they seem to know we're not to be trifled with at least." Narsia offered up as consolation to her bereaved partner who continued to stare with sad eyes at the beastmen slipping through the shadows to follow their steady southward pace. "They may be primitive, but that's more due to tradition. They're not stupid."
Suddenly Izzy's expression brightened and her head rose as if some proud memory came to her...and then her lips curled up into a wide, toothy grin. Narsia glanced briefly at the scythe on her partner's back, then steered her mount a few feet away from her. She knew the sick kitty at her side was thinking something evil at that moment and didn't want to be too close to her when she unleashed whatever she had in mind.
"Gotcha." the mithran battle mage said and turned back to give a bright, almost sickeningly sweet smile. "Scared the shit out of you just now, didn't I?" she laughed, but it soon turned into a loud screech as she felt the sudden pain of her tail being yanked.
"Yes, you did!" Narsia said, feigning anger despite her own smile as she held onto the feline woman's tail.
Isilme responded by steering her chocobo close and ramming her armored body into Narsia's shoulder that was protected by little more than cloth and a few minor protection spells. The elvaan tipped to the side, releasing the captured tail in lieu of the saddle which she desperately clutched to in order to keep from falling.
"Down you go!" Izzy cried with a giggle in her voice and lightly rammed into Narsia's mount a second time. This time she fell and rolled a few feet away before jumping to her feet.
She quickly drew the staff from the harness on her back and pulled back a fold of her robe were she kept her scimitar hidden from sight until needed. Izzy responded in kind, hopping from her chocobo and removing her own weapon from its harness. She held it, crescent blade down and pointed away from her opponent in a non-aggressive stance and grinned that same creepy grin that made Narsia's skin crawl. Their mounts, being trained and knowing their masters well, trotted a few yards away and settled in to graze until the playful duel was over.
"Oi, oi, what's this now?" Isilme taunted as she and Narsia slowly circled each other. "Last I recall you thought you could take me down with nothing but that flashy Imperial magic of yours. You must be feeling pretty stiff in your old age to think you'll be needing two weapons to get the job done."
"Oh, no, you poor baby." Narsia sighed with a mocking imitation of sympathy. "All those cracks to the skull you get when I whoop you must have finally caught up if you can't even remember who the old lady is here."
"Hah, I'll give you a whoopin' little girl!" Izzy cried, her face beaming as she took off toward her lifelong friend brandishing her weapon of choice with its lethal edge turned away.
Narsia quickly took her stance and held her staff firmly in both hands as Isilme came upon her and delivered a strong horizontal swing intended to crack her in the ribs with the blunt metal butt of the weapons blade. She was quick, however, and brought the staff to her side to block the blow, but her stance was shaken by the force of the attack from the much stronger knight.
Narsia pushed at her friend's weapon with all her strength, managing to momentarily throw the mithra off balance. She took the opportunity and rushed her, channeling the essence of a beast she slew long ago into her right leg and leaping into the air to deliver a mighty sidelong kick at Izzy's heavily armored torso. It connected and the mithra was thrown further off balance, stumbling back a few feet to keep from falling on her butt. Narsia followed up with her next spell, channeling the essence of another long dead beast into her staff and attacking her partner in three powerful strikes to areas that, while not vital, would surely knock the wind out of her.
Izzy was quick, too, however, and regained her stance quick enough to block the first two strikes with the staff of her scythe and spin away from the third before countering by bringing up the butt of the pole into Narsia's exposed gut and then finishing with a sweeping strike to to backs of the summoner's ankles that knocked her feet out from under her and sent her to the ground.
Almost instantly the mithra was on top of her and, after kicking away the elvaan's staff and dropping her own weapon, grabbed hold of her friend's wrists and tightly held them above her head. She smiled down at her defeated friend who was panting and gasping for air, but with a smile of her own.
"Who's the best?" Izzy purred as she straddle Narsia's lap and leaned in close to her, bringing their faces so close together the elvaan could feel the mithra's own heavy, but controlled pants brushing her skin.
"Bite me, furball!" Narsia growled with a smile and struggled against the woman pinning her to the ground, though her efforts were more for the victor's enjoyment as she in truth wasn't even trying. Since the rules of their little game stated that the first one knocked on her back was the loser. She had no reason to keep fighting, but knew her partner enjoyed her theatrics as it fed her insatiable ego.
"Oh gross, me bite an elvaan? And soil my beautiful smile?" Isilme scoffed with feigned disgust before pressing a light kiss to her friend's cheek, then sitting up and looking off in the distance with a more genuine look of concern. "But we should get home, before the homicidal bird men get any funny ideas."
Narsia laughed at the amusing, yet disturbing mental image that popped into her head when she thought about the fate of those ignorant yagudo foolish enough to incur the half-insane mithran's wrath. She sighed, almost sadly when Izzy rolled off of her, then accepted her offered hand and rose to her feet. The pair dusted themselves off, Isilme checked her armor for damage, then she checked Narsia for any injuries before they recovered their weapons and went to their mounts who had moved to the bank of a stream to drink.
"I'm impressed with your progress." Izzy said to Narsia as they resumed their southward trek. "You have your Immortal powers suppressed right now and you still managed to fire off a few attacks with dazzling speed."
"Nothing special," Narsia muttered as she rolled her neck from side to side and gently rubbed one shoulder she had landed on harder than the other. "they were weak abilities, two of the first I acquired."
"Still, impressive." Isilme pushed the compliment. "I know you're self conscious about what they did to you, but you've managed it pretty well since then."
"It's not what I wanted, not what I was looking for..." Narsia sighed and lowered her head. A soft, lyrical voice echoed reassuring words in the back of her mind. She nodded to this and muttered, "I know..."
"Hmm? What he say?" Izzy questioned. She could not hear the voice, but knew by her partner's behavior and expression when she was hearing the voice of the light spirit who gave Narsia her summoner's power.
"Pretty much the same thing you did." Narsia said, shrugging again. "I know why I did this," she went on, holding up the hand she was rubbing her shoulder with, her sword hand, and giving it a long look. "A summoner is bound to a great responsibility with the power we are granted, and I am both proud and honored by the power the Avatars saw fit to grant me, but..."
"Stop."
Narsia looked up to find a stern-faced mithra looking her in the eye. Isilme reached out and stroked her partner's cheek. Narsia whimpered at the touch, not for the coldness on the armored hand pressed to her flesh, but for the fact that it was not Isilme's flesh on hers that she was feeling unlike a moment ago when she felt her partner's kiss on that same cheek.
"I don't regret what I did." Narsia said at last and gently pulled away from Isilme's cold hand. "I was determined to become worthy of the power they gave me."
"I think you succeeded, whether you accept that or not." Isilme said, and then went silent.
Narsia said no more as well, and the two rode in silence the rest of the way to Windurst. They would bow their heads or salute to the soldiers and mages they passed on the way, those either on patrol or training while the weather was good greeted them with warm smiles and good tidings concerning the city's well being. By some blessing from the goddess their home was relatively untouched by the dark times the world had found itself in again. Surely news had traveled thus far, but the ravages of the war that raged just on the other side of the mountains seemed a million miles from this peaceful place.
When they reached the gates they were greeted by a pair of mithran guards. They saluted and greeted the travelers back home, having recognized them fairly quick. Small wonder really, with her being the only 'heretic mage' not of the tarutaru persuasion native to Windurst and her companion being an 'outlaw warrior' versed in the dark arts and very well known for her destructive potential in battle. They were both infamous, yet revered to a certain extent for the lengths they had gone to in the past to protect this walled city and her people.
They dismounted and lead their chocobos in by the reins to the stables a short distance from the city gates. On their way they spoke briefly with a number of their comrades, gate guards mostly who were already there at the guard house when they stepped through. Narsia's grizzly mood was lifted by the many smiling faces that greeted them. She was actually missed, and though it pleased her greatly she had to admit it was something of a shock to know.
"Commander, welcome home!" a squeaky little voice sounded. The source was at their feet, coming from the tiny little woman who stood no taller than Isilme's knee and had hair that was a mixture of orange and bright pink as long s she was tall done up in a high tail. She wore the robes of a mage, but over them a breastplate bearing the emblem of a Caster Captain of the War Warlocks, the Federation's elite mage militia.
Izzy looked down at the pint-sized magician to find her saluting the mithra with a beaming smile on her tiny face. She glanced to Narsia as well and gave a similar salute, which the summoner returned. Though she was not a member Windurst's magical military she respected them as they did her for her own prowess in the summoning arts, at one point thought to be the pinnacle of spell casting potential, and was thus treated with respect by the majority of the city's tarutaru population.
"Eh? What was that?" Isilme muttered darkly, arms folded over her chest as she stared down at the little person with something very faintly resembling disappointment in her expression.
"Oh, I'm sorry." the tiny mage squeaked, then bowed down, not at, but to the feet of the mithran knight. "I meant to say, welcome home, O glorious, beautiful, wise and almighty one whose presence honors we of the unworthy."
"Now was that really so hard?" Isilme laughed and bent down to pick up the tiny woman and set her on her shoulder. The little woman clung to Izzy's head with one hand so she wouldn't fall, but kept the other free.
"It's good to see you again, Seint." Narsia said through her own laughter at the tarutaru's over the top polishing of Isilme's already overinflated ego.
"I got word from Mhaura that you arrived on a ferry a few days ago, I knew it wouldn't take long for you to get back. I wanted to greet my old buddies and be sure they didn't forget about me!" Seint made a little flexing gesture with the one scrawny arm that wasn't clinging to Izzy's head and added, "Else I'd have to kick your giant butts for forgetting someone as awesome as I!"
All three of them laughed and Seint wrapped both arms around Izzy's head in her variation of a welcome home hug, then did the same for Narsia when the mithra passed the little lady off to her partner. The three of them talked while they walked, the tarutaru riding Narsia's shoulder now, to the stables where they would leave their chocobos to be taken care of. Seint told the two of them of the state of affairs while they were gone, delivering grim news about chieftainess Perih Vashai's failing health and the controversy over her choice of successor.
"Good that the old bat didn't kick the bucket while I was away." Isilme said with sadness behind the sarcasm in her voice. "I'll have speak with her soon as we set these big fellas up." she patted the side of her chocobo and the bird kweh'd happily. "No way to know when we'll be sent off to parts unknown again, I want to pay my respects while she's still alive to hear me."
"Agreed," said Narsia who took he reins from Isilme and increased her pace to move ahead of her partner. "So get to it, I think the midget and I can handle this."
"Hey, watch it!" Seint whined and whopped Narsia on the head with a tiny balled up fist. "I'm quite tall, thank you!"
Narsia looked over her shoulder to see if Isilme had taken her hint, and was happy to see that, though reluctantly, her partner was headed that way.
"Well that was pretty simple, wasn't it?" Seint muttered as she, too, watched her old friend disappear among the crowd.
"It's something she needs to do." Narsia said, then turned away and headed once again for the stables.
"Aye-aye, I knows it." Seint agreed. "Vashai was like the mother she never had, especially after the things she went through."
"It's tough not being welcomed by your own people. Thankfully I don't know what that feels like."
"Eh? You don't?" Seint leaned forward to get a look at Narsia's face and the brooding expression upon it. "But you've been to San'Doria plenty of times."
"I'm a Windurstian though, born and raised." Narsia said. "These here are my people, this is my home."
"Ah, right..."
The two of them sighed in unison, both brooding now over what they thought Isilme might have to say to the sickly chieftainess who was the sole light of acceptance in Izzy's life for so long after she began treading the dark path she still walked. The two of them, Isilme and herself, were very much kindred in that regard, she knew, both having sacrificed so much for the strength to protect those they loved. Nothing short of their very souls had been offered up to preserve the fragile peace, and they were both always in danger of being consumed.
"What would I be without you..."
"Wa'sha say?" Seint squeaked and broke Narsia's trance.
"Ah...nothing." the summoner said and gave her head a light shake to clear it, giggling at the distress of the wobbling tarutaru fighting not to fall from her shoulder.
"Now come on, I know we're not as close as you and Izzy, but you can talk to me!"
Narsia smiled.
"It's a long story, shorty."
"I have the afternoon off." Seint countered before lightly thumping Narsia's head. "So let's crack open this melon and see what's got you so gloomy already."
The elvaan laughed and shook her head again. "Alright already, enough, I tell you anything to keep you from putting another dent in my skull." she scolded playfully.
"Tarutaru power prevails once more! Bow before the furious might of the great Caster Captain, Mahoyaya Seint!" the tiny mage cackled as she and Narsia stepped into the stables. "I wanna hear everything! What did you do? What was your mission? Why did it take so damn long? What awesome and epic battles did you face?"
The questions went on and on, seemingly without end as the Tarutaru demanded every detail of Narsia's adventures with Isilme over the near two years of their absence from Windurst. So much had happened since then that it was hard for her to know where to begin, and even worse was how to explain the terrible turn their path had taken. It was a bizarre tale full of frightening moments. Narsia felt at times that she could never face herself or what she had become, could never justify the misplaced good intentions that paved her road into hell.
Where had it all began, she wondered, when did the odyssey begin? In a way it started long before Narsia knew what she wanted to make of her life, back in the days when she, Seint and Izzy would sit together on the raised platforms surrounding the dhalmel farm at night and watch in childlike wonder as the moon danced with the stars across the evening sky.
In those days, when life had so many bountiful possibilities the three of them would dream of the future and what roles they wanted to play in Windurst's prosperity.
A smile came to the summoner's face as she recalled when, on a crystal clear night, the young and much tinier Mahoyaya jumped up and with hands on her hips exclaimed to her two closest friends, "I will be the greatest mage to grace the walls of Windurst! I'm gonna enter the ranks of the War Warlocks and be the best there ever was. Why, in no time at all I'll have a whole brigade under my foot and power will be so great that my presence alone will send the enemy running in terror!"
Laughing to the sky, her ambitions fueled by her tarutaru pride, Seint looked almost scary to the mithra and elvaan sitting not far away. Though the two could only giggle at their friend's furious resolve to make a name for herself as a top spell caster in Windurst's prestigious mage forces.
"And then, when I've climbed as high as I possibly can," Seint went on, pacing back and forth across the platform to brag of her glorious future to the two before her, "I'll climb even higher! I'll find the legendary Full Moon Fountain and tame the great Fenrir himself! I'm going to look so cool riding around on his back everywhere!"
"Oh yeah!?" Isilme cried just then, the little mithra rolling to her feet and brandishing the crude wooden sword she carried with her everywhere back then. "Well I'm going to be something more impressive than a mere mage!"
She swung the pretend weapon a few times, leaped this way and that and fought with some imaginary enemy she dreamed of contending with.
"What are you going to be when your magic runs out in a pinch, huh? You won't be able to fight because you're just a little shrimp!" Isilme taunted, sticking her tongue out at the pouting tarutaru before turning to once again engage her invisible enemy. "I'm going to be the best fighter in the whole mercenary army, master of every weapon and fighting style imaginable, with hundreds under my foot and thousands more from every part of the world begging me to teach them to fight!
I'm going to be so strong that gigas will run away in terror at the mention of a rumor of my presence, so fast that the wind will moan and cry because it can't keep up with me and so tough that I'll fight for a week straight without food or rest!"
The two stared each other down then, Izzy grinning wickedly while Mahoyaya narrowed her tiny pink eyes at the implied challenge of the mithra's bold ambition.
"I'll be better than some dumb old mage who has to run for cover behind her buddies when all that flashy-washy-wishy-washy magic runs out." Izzy said as her grin only grew, both in size and in wickedness.
"Not if I throw a lightning bolt at you, dumb cat!" Seint countered and suck out her tongue. "You'll be the one running away crying while I shoot lightning at your fuzzy butt over and over!"
"Nuh-uh!" Isilme said, shaking her head defiantly. "I'll be too fast for you, I'll just step to the side and watch your lightning fly right past me, then I'll keep doing it until you can't throw anymore, then I'll pick you up and drop kick your tiny butt into the sea!"
"Stoopid!" Seint shouted, waving her arms in the air frantically. "You can't dodge lightning, it's too fast!"
"Can too!" Isime insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "We mithra are the fastest of the fast! That's why I'll be faster than the wind and if I can outrun the wind I can dodge anything!"
"You can't do that either, stoopid!" Seint pushed and puffed out her cheeks in frustration of her friend's ignorance.
"Well you can't ride around on Fenrir either!" Izzy bit back, her face a stubborn wall of resolve to win this argument with the midget intellectual. "Even I know just having him around uses up your precious magic, you'll go showing him off and it'll suck you dry."
"Nope!" Seint snapped back, crossing her own tiny arms and shaking her head. "That's how powerful I'm gonna be, my magic'll be infinite!"
"Oh yeah? Well that Fenrir's just a great big dog, so he'll dig really big holes everywhere and whizz on everything and the Sibyl'll be soooo peeved at you!"
Narsia just sat there, watching and giggling as the unwinnable fight went around and around in a near infinite circle. She thought to herself that she didn't much care what she did with her life, or at least she didn't have any great dreams like Izzy and Mahoyaya. She did know that they were her best friends and if she had the choice she wanted to be with them, working together and fighting together. She thought about Isilme's dream to become stronger than the gigas, faster than the wind. A chill ran through the young elvaan as she imagined a grown Isilme fighting, a real blade flashing in the sun while its owner ducked and dodged the enemy's every attack faster than they could see and attacking twice as fast. A quick, merciful death at the hands of Windurst's greatest, most magnificent fighter.
Now that would be something to see, Narsia remembered telling herself.
Her dreams were filled with imaginings of that glorious future for long after that night. She dreamt of Seint casting mighty spells that shook the earth and tore open the skies, all from the back of an unimaginably huge Fenrir that was her pet. She even dreamed once of the great wolf chasing after a frightened Isilme while his tiny rider threw one bolt of lightning after another at the mithra's bottom, singing the hair on her tail and causing her to yelp at the sharp pain it caused.
She also dreamed of the mighty mithra warrior Isilme, clad in shimmering armor and wielding a blade as long as she was tall and with less effort than it takes a galka to pick a pebble from the ground. The mighty mithra with a hundred-hundred mercenaries under her command, following her into battle, was always a sight to behold in her dreams and the childish predictions of her friend's future fighting prowess always found Narsia in the morning with her heart beating heavily in her chest from the vivid dreams.
Perhaps it was her elvaan nature influencing her thoughts, but Narsia would often imagine Isilme's sword dance being so graceful and beautiful, so gorgeous and without flaw that the enemy had only to see her fight and all would fall prostrate at her feet, ending the battle without a single friend lost to the flames of war.
In most of the dreams she could recall, Narsia was there, not simply watching as the dream took place, but she was there in all the exotic locales, standing with her friends. Sometimes she fought with Izzy, standing back to back as they cleaved open walls of enemies come to take their heads or threaten the peace they were charged with protecting. Other times she offered support or struck from a distance with her tarutaru comrade and the powerful mithra protecting them both without breaking a sweat.
Once she dreamt that she fought Isilme herself, toe to toe, blade to blade, both combatants smiling as they tested the other's skills and pushed each other and themselves to their limits. Narsia smiled bitterly at that memory. Truly, the irony was inescapable, for she could never have imagined that the dreams of her youth would so accurately predict the future.
In one particular nighttime fantasy the young elvaan remembered dreaming of a daring rescue in which Isilme scaled a spire that shot into heaven itself with a single powerful jump, Mahoyaya tightly clinging to her friend's neck as the pair soared upwards, through the clouds, to the realm where the light of day faded to eternal night to rescue their princess, Narsia herself, who was held captive by dark forces of unknown origin, nature or motives. They landed at the top of the great tower and charged at the captors, the air crackling with the energy of mighty spells thrown with the ease of breath while Isilme, her hero, charged the enemy so fast she left after images behind to confuse and beguile the creatures holding her friend hostage.
Narsia had that dream often, and it was always as magnificent as the first time when Izzy cut her bonds and lifted her to her feet, then held her tight as Seint clambered up the mithra's armor and onto her shoulder before casting the teleportation spell that would send them all home safely.
Those were the days, Narsia thought as she walked the familiar streets of Windurst with her dear friend sitting comfortably on her shoulder, asking questions faster than she could answer them. Back then she was so naive, so young and ignorant, and yet she was happy with that. After all, what was a child's hope for the future if she had to brood on the consequences of every action? No, those were good times and she would continue to cherish those dreams despite the harsh truth of reality.
"Wait, what's that?" Seint's voice reached through the cloud of the summoner's reminiscing. "Where did you get that thing?"
Instantly Narsia's hand rose to her face, to cup her cheek and her left eye where a heavy layer of makeup covered the serpent tattoo she was branded with in the lands far to the east. Mahoyaya did not notice this, however, but rather slid down the front of her friend's robe, clinging tightly to its folds and pulling back one to inspect the hidden hilt of the Immortal's Scimitar and magus armor that she wore beneath her summoner's garb.
"Woa..." Seint breathed as she poked and prodded at the sword's pommel, all the while still clinging to the front of her friend's robe which was the only thing keeping her from falling. "There's a lot of magic coming out of this thing. Why didn't I sniff it out until now? Wait, when did you start using a sword, Nari? Why do you even need one? What's this weirdy-weird feeling I'm getting from it?"
Narsia groaned and looked this way and that, smiling nervously a those few passersby who stopped to look curiously at the notoriously eccentric tarutaru mage as she hung in the air in that awkward position.
"It's like I told you, shorty..." Narsia said in a low whisper, then gently pulled her friend away and set her down on the ground. "Long story."
Seint looked the summoner up and down, studied her for a long time, then nodded once before turning and walking off in the direction of the residential district.
"Well come on then!" Seint called back in her adorable squeaky voice. "This is a story I know I'm going to want to hear!"
Narsia sighed, her shoulders slumping. This wasn't exactly the way she wanted to tell her old friend about the last two years. She'd at least hoped for a chance to take a bath, rest, spend some peaceful time catching up with her house moogle and report to the Star Sibyl before her secret hit the streets.
Oh well, Narsia thought as she reluctantly followed the tiny mage marching off in the direction of the civilian housing, Seint's the last person who would judge. She might just scream about how cool it was, not knowing the hardships it came with.
She paused once when she thought she caught a glimpse of Isilme's black scythe pass by, but saw no mithra resembling her in the crowd. She wondered how her partner was doing now and if she'd met with Vashai yet. What sort of greeting would the former mercenary captain receive from her former comrades, Narsia wondered. She could only hope for the best.
Hope, but not expect it.