Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age, Final Fantasy, etc, or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.

Rating: T+

Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Origins DL content, Dragon Age II and Inquisition as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling. May also contain spoilers for Final Fantasy XII, Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XIII-2, Final Fantasy XIII Lightning Returns, and other fantasy stories or games or movies or TV series.

Chapter One: Asea in Sand

There was no bad weather system building above South Banks Village that night. No sandstorms, no thundershowers, not a single dark cloud in the entire expanse of the Estersand or further, reaching north into the Mosphoran Highwaste or south into the Giza Plains. So the sudden booming crash of thunder and the instantaneous brilliance of a snap of electric lightning straight into the middle of the peaceful little desert settlement was startling to say the least. Villagers rolled out of their tiny beds, uninjured but shocked to full wakefulness by the noise and light, to huddle at their windows and in their doorways to peer out into the darkness to see what was happening.

"Something landed on my roof!" the Widow Theodran screamed from around her doorjamb. "Something heavy!" The men in the village gathered to light torches and see what it might have been.

It was easy enough to see from a distance, but the men approached cautiously nevertheless. A giant human man, or so it appeared, lay sprawled across the rounded roof of the elderly widow's adobe hut, his booted feet touching the ground below and his unruly black-haired head nearly touching the ground on the other side. He had partly caved in the roof, it seemed, and he had apparently appeared out of nowhere. Where could he have fallen from? An airship? A balloon? The sky itself? Remotely possible but barely feasible. He had a sword on his back, a plain iron greatsword, so it was doubtful he'd been tossed from a slave ship. One man, a little braver than the others, approached a bit closer and kicked a couple of times at a booted foot then hurried back to the relative safety of the crowd. The big man on the roof let out a soft groan but did not move.

"Well, he seems to be alive," Dantro Kertumsen, an Outpost guardsman, said. "If only barely. "I suppose we should get him off the roof and to the gatestone before he perishes completely, get a healer here from Nalbina, if we need it after that. Come on boys, we'd better hurry. Cautiously, now - no telling how bad he's hurt inside." Dantro and five other men, burly sorts, stepped forward to take command of the situation, but when they made the attempt to move the big man down off the low roof they found they could not shift him at all.

"Maker," one of the men grunted. "He's big, but he don't look quite that big. We're gonna need more men on this."

"Maybe we're better off just to leave him here and call the healer," Dantro said, scratching his fuzzy chin.

"I think the roof is caving in, Dan. I for one don't want to see it go all the way, especially with the old widow lady not wanting to come out just yet," another man said.

"Yeah, you're right. Well, let's give it one more go. He can't be all that heavy, can he? On three boys, heave." Again they tried, and again they failed, to budge the prostrate male. He was quite large in comparison with them, yes, on the order of seven and a half feet tall or somewhere thereabouts, but surely they should have been able to shift him at least a little. Still, all their jostling had some effect. The big man groaned again and one of his farflung arms moved to swipe at his downturned face. "Hey, maybe he's not hurt so badly after all," Dantro said. "Maybe if we can wake him up, he can walk to the gate crystal himself." He knelt down next to the big man's shaggy black head. "Pardon me, sir, but are you all right in there? Do you think you can get up or do you need a healer? We can get you one if you need it, but the roof is caving in beneath you, so we thought moving you was the best thing to do under the circumstances, and we've got a strong gate crystal nearby that can probably heal you all on its own if you can just make it there. Turns out we can't budge you, however."

The great head rolled to one side, then back, then raised about halfway. "You could have just asked me if I can stand," the big man said in a low, gravely voice. "I can always… make a… stand." He let out a long, even breath, brought his arms up, and pushed. The roof caved in completely, and the Widow Theodran came dancing out mad as a hatter and covered in dust, but the big man was on his feet, a little shaky and quite pale, but looking tremendously powerful nevertheless. From his rolled-top boots to his open-front shirt disclosing a massive chest liberally peppered with black hair to his ice-blue eyes and his long dark locks high above, he was something the natives didn't see every day. "Ah… I feel like I fell off the tower of Fort Drakon," he sighed as he shook his shaggy head.

"Do you know what happened to you?" Dantro asked. "Do you know where you came from?"

"Of course, I -" but the big man stopped short, confusion writ clear in his eyes. "I… may need to think about it for a few moments. I feel rather strange for the time being. Muzzy-headed. My thoughts need to clear."

"I know what will help you. Step right this way," Dantro said, and led the big man to a tall orange crystal, standing proudly by itself all alone at the back of the village, with not a single other crystal of any sort around to show that it had naturally grown there. "This will heal you right up, and it should clear the muzziness. And then if you have a teleport stone you can probably go right back home."

Gate crystal? A stone that can heal? What a strange concept. Tentatively, the big man reached out his hand and laid it upon the stone. He felt a sense of power wash through him from his hand and down his arm and through his whole body, and he quickly took his hand away. He did feel better, though. He still couldn't quite begin to think about what had happened to him. All he could remember seeing was a bright flash of yellow-white light, burning hot and so very, very beautiful somehow, but the pain that he'd felt left him with the stone's magic. He still couldn't think, and realized at long last that this, perhaps, could be somewhat explained by the urgent sense of hunger in the pit of his stomach.

"Better?" Dantro asked of him, and he looked his way and nodded slightly, then croaked out, "I feel as though I haven't eaten in years."

"Well, you don't… look underfed, but… come on, have a seat. We don't have much for furniture, you understand, and at your size I don't think you'd be comfortable in what we have for chairs. Just come sit down by the riverbank here. The gate crystal keeps the fiends away." Dantro led him a few steps to the side of the wide, placid river, where he sat him down on a small blanket on the sandy riverbank when the big man removed his sword. "I don't know that anyone has much for food this late at night, but I suppose I can warm you up a bowl of last night's stew."

Stew. Yes, yes, yes, PLEASE, his stomach answered. He nodded so that Dantro could understand. Dantro left him and went to attend to the stew. A small crowd of onlookers were gathered at a slight distance, watchful of him, but he found he did not for the time being care overmuch if he were an object of curiosity to them. Of far more concern to him at this time was the fact that this village and this river were completely unknown to him. He was unfamiliar with stick and mud huts, and the people were so small, almost elven in stature. Where could he be?

Dantro came back with the stew, and as he accepted it the big man asked, "Could you tell me please where this place is? Am I somehow in Antiva? Nevarra, perhaps?"

"Er, uh… no, I've uh, never heard of those places," Dantro said. "This is, um. Well, it's the kingdom of Dalmasca. You, uh… really don't know where you are?"

"Last I knew I was in Ferelden. I've most always been in Ferelden. I've only ever left it once in my life." He spooned up some of the stew and ate it. "Good stew. Thank you. Dalmasca? I've never heard of Dalmasca."

"I've never heard of Ferelden, but then, geography's not my strong suit," Dantro said. "Do you remember how you got here at least? You seem to have fallen from the sky. There was a loud crash and a bright flash and there you were. Best we can figure is you must have fallen from a low-flying airship, but it must have been traveling awfully fast to be there and gone so quickly. You're lucky to be alive."

"An… airship? What's an airship?" the big man asked, with a blank look over another spoonful of stew arrested halfway to his mouth.

"What? Oh, well, maybe they call them something different where you're from. They're… flying ships?"

"Flying ships? Really? How would that even happen?" the big man asked, ice blue eyes huge and unbelieving.

"Oh. Well, if you don't know, I don't think I can really explain it to you," Dantro said through a dry mouth. "Look, I'll… get you another bowl of stew. How's that sound?"

It sounded very good, and the big man applied himself diligently to the business of filling the gripping emptiness in his stomach and put off the questions in his mind for the time being. He did not even recognize the sword laying beside him in the sand. Dantro did not venture to ask him anything more, either, and the others in the village remained at a respectful distance, allowing their neighbor to shoulder the responsibility for this sudden burden in their lives. Some of them even managed to forget the night's brouhaha and go to bed. After a time, Dantro took the second empty wooden bowl from the big man and stood up.

"There's not much left of this night," he said, "but I may be able to squeeze a couple of hours sleep into it if I try. You should try, too. It should help you feel a bit better. I can bring you another blanket to curl up under. When I get up it will be awfully early, still, because I've got to work early, but if you can't tell where to teleport to you'd probably be better off in the city than here. I can take you to one of them. Nalbina's closer, but you can't get in without a Trade Union's pass, a Warrant of Dalmascan Citizenship, or a local's identification. I'm sort of betting you don't have any of them. Rabanastre's not that much longer a walk."

"I don't need any of those things there?"

"Nope. Nalbina's locked down because the kingdom's great dungeon is there. Rabanastre is the capital, but generally speaking it's open to everyone."

"Ah, I see. Well, sounds like I'd better go to Rabanastre, then. But wait - I have to make restitution to the lady whose roof I caved in."

"Resti-what?"

"I have to fix it."

"Oh, don't worry. Some of the boys will fix that in the morning. For now she'll stay with one of her friends, come morning they'll patch it up slick as a whistle. By midday it will be better than ever. Honestly, her old hut needed a bit of patching."

"Still, I should do something - "

"It's not your fault," Dantro said. "You didn't do it on purpose."

"Nevertheless, I did it."

"You're kind of stubborn, aren't you?"

"You have no idea."

"Just try and get some sleep, all right?" Dantro said, giving up. "Morning will come early."

"Very well." The big man curled up on his side facing the river on the small blanket Dantro had already provided and covered himself with the other small blanket that Dantro brought for him in a moment's time. He watched the calm surface of the water in the moonlight, the stars reflected in it. He did not recognize one of them. The moon looked strange to him as well. How could the moon look so different? How could the stars have changed? Surely these things were constants, no matter where in Thedas you happened to be. He must have been quite tired, because the next thing he knew, Dantro was shaking him awake. The moon was down and the stars had shifted position in the sky, showing that a few hours had passed. He stretched his sore muscles and rose from his makeshift bed by the river.

"This is awfully early, and I apologize for that, but I have to be at my station at the outpost in the Estersand by dawn," Dantro said. "I hope you can use that sword you've got, because there will be fiends along the way."

The big man smiled - just the slightest quirk of his upper lip. "I have some martial training, yes," he said, and followed Dantro out of the darkened settlement and into the desert beyond.

"If you ever need help, with anything, just call on us. South Banks Village, that's what we're called. You can reach us now from damned near anywhere as long as there's a gate crystal and a teleport stone handy," Dantro said as they entered the empty sands. "There's another gate crystal in Nalbina and one in Rabanastre, of course, and you should touch both as soon as ever you can. Touching gate crystals, orange and blue, is good under general circumstances - they both heal you of pretty much any injury or illness and replenish your Mist. Orange ones let you teleport, of course. You probably know all this, already." The big man did not know, and did not understand, but he let Dantro chatter on uninterrupted by questions, gleaning from the barrage of confusion what knowledge he could. "You say you have martial training? You're a soldier, then? Or a militiaman, or something? Don't want to know what a Fereldan soldier would be doing flying low over Dalmasca at this time, but… well, whatever. Maybe it would even be a good thing. Not good times for Dalmasca, these. I said we were a kingdom, but that's not really true, you see. Our king is dead and our nation is taken. Occupied. The Archadeans. Caught us with our trousers down, they did. Right on the heels of pretty Princess Ashe's wedding they put the heel to us hard, they did, and killed her bridegroom and everyone living in the City-State of Nabudis along with him. No one knows how. It was surrender or share their fate, I guess. That must've been what poor King Raminas was thinking, at least. Now it's up to Princess Ashe to negotiate the terms of our surrender, since the bloody traitor did for Raminas. They're sending someone to meet with her in Rabanastre at week's end. Our new 'Consul,' they're calling the bastard. Princess Ashe will probably have to marry the bastard, and her Lord Rasler not even cold in his grave. Her uncle's coming from Bhujerba as a 'neutral party' to help with the negotiations."

It all sounded very familiar, the small kingdom swallowed up by the powerful empire, but he would not be getting sucked in to the political goings-on of this kingdom. He had no business doing so. He let the gabble wash over him virtually unheeded. The information was useful as a means of judging the local temperament, but that was all.

A chorus of yips and high-pitched howls broke the desert silence, and Dantro held out his torch to cast more light on the surrounding area. "Better ready your sword, big man," he said. "Wolves." Small, dark shadows with glowing eyes appeared over a dune, and quickly closed the distance.

"Are they mad?" the big man asked as he drew his sword and began his slaughter of the strange creatures, one after another in a sort of quick-stepping dance. They were nothing like the wolves he was familiar with, beginning with their unnatural aggression and ending with their odd appearance. They were small, little more than twenty pounds or so, with orange coats shot with white and black, and batlike ears and split nostrils. They barely looked canine as he was familiar with the term.

Dantro waited to answer his question until the last wolf fell beneath the big man's blade. "Not mad," he said at last. "Mist-born. Your Ferelden must not have much for Mist if you're not familiar with the concept. The Mist runs pretty thick here in Dalmasca and most places 'round so it's very common. Most of our creatures are Mist-born, and that's why hunters are so prized. Anyone who'll risk his life to weed out a few of the dangerous critters running around for a few hours is something of a hero to us. Good money in it, too. I know someone in Rabanastre will help you find your way home, but… well, if worse comes to worst, you look like you could go far as a hunter."

Dantro gave him the loan of his belt knife and the big man skinned out his kills for their pelts. Dantro used a magic spell to stretch and dry them instantly, which shocked the big man and made him wary. "What's the matter? Haven't you ever seen someone cast a spell before?" Dantro asked. The big man of course said that yes, he had, but he remained wary. "You should learn that one yourself, even if the Mist in your homeland is scarce. It doesn't cost too much to use."

"I can't cast magic," the big man said.

"What? Of course you can. Don't be silly," Dantro said. "Everybody can cast magic. It's just a matter of Mist and willpower. Come on: we'll surely find more wolves as we keep walking. I'll teach you the spell and you can try it for yourself. I bet you'll be surprised. It's really very easy."

The big man kept his own counsel on that, but they proceeded onward. They did not, at first, encounter more wolves, but rather large, round birdlike creatures that rolled about on the desert sands like feathered and fifty pound Antivan bocce balls. One of them - bigger, maybe seventy pounds - unrolled and squawked a warning at them. "Nekhbet," Dantro whispered. "Considered rare game, so the meat and feathers are worth quite a bit on the market. Kind of a risk, though. Has spit that slows you down, and with three normal cockatrices to fight alongside it? May be best to give it a pass."

The big man looked at the unfamiliar greatsword in his hand, plain iron like the longsword he'd used for so long yet better suited to his height and reach. He'd never given a thought to using a greatsword. He'd fought with his old standard army-issue longsword - his father's old standard army-issue longsword - since he was still a boy not yet fully grown, and it had never occurred to him to fight with another, though he'd taken many fine blades of every type as trophies. He gave the hilt of the greatsword a spin in his hand and caught it, testing the heft. It felt right to him. He drew his arm back and lunged forward, shoving the heavy blade with all his might down the open beak of the largest bird and wrenched it out again, dripping blood. The nekhbet died with a strangled squawk. The three lesser cockatrices attacked, and the big man got quite badly pecked in a few places on his lower legs before he'd managed to kill the rotund little things.

"Well fought!" Dantro said. "They got a few pecks in, too, though, didn't they? I suppose if you think you can't cast magic that you don't know even the most simple of cure spells, eh? Well, that's easily taught, and easily cast. Come here, I'll teach you." Dantro proceeded to instruct the big man in a simple spell of healing that only required a bit of concentration and thought of the word "cure," pronounced "coo-ray." The big man was surprised and a trifle displeased to discover he was able to cast this spell upon himself, but all his wounds knit on the instant without so much as a scar left behind so at least it was useful. If he could cast magic, he should probably learn as much as he was capable of casting. Useful stuff, if dodgy. And nerve-wracking. "You can cast that spell upon anyone now," Dantro said. "Just concentrate on them. Most spells work similarly."

The big man shouldered his kills, hauling the heavy burden in his left hand. Dantro eyed this in awe. "Damn. Awfully strong, aren't you? Those birds couldn't weigh less than fifty pounds apiece, not even counting the nekhbet, which weighs more than that."

"I keep in training."

"To say the least."

They soon left the open desert for a series of steep-sided wadis where the creatures ran plentiful and quite dangerous. "We're almost to the outpost, where I post guard three days a week, and it's safe from fiends there, but it can be a long trek from here to there if you're not careful. They call this region the Labyrinth, 'cause you can get turned around pretty easy. Just keep to the north wall for now and you'll do fine," Dantro said. A pair of wolves attacked and the big man killed them both with a single blow, and Dantro taught him the indispensable skinning spell to stretch and dry his pelts for him once he'd taken them. He now had two spells to his credit. Two magic spells, when before he was quite certain he could cast not a one. A strange place, this.

"You don't have to worry about demons, here?" he asked.

"Demons? What's a - oh, do you mean like a Baateezu, or like those funky tall urstrix-like things they've got somewhere down south? I hear they call them demons, or maybe daemons, for some reason. Doesn't seem like a fitting name."

"What's a Baateezu?" the big man asked, feeling as though he might regret the question.

"Well, it's a type of being, but they're pretty nasty. They come from someplace nasty, they say. I don't really understand, but I guess it's somewhere deep down underground. In any event, there's all kinds of them, but they all stand out, and they're all kind of… well, I guess I'd have to say 'evil.' Don't like saying that about anyone, but I guess it's true, even though I've never met one myself. Some people call 'em demons. I guess they're not the only things that people call demons, but they're the first things that pop to my mind."

"Do they… possess people? Take over their bodies and minds?" the big man asked.

"I… I don't think so. Never heard a story like that, anyway."

"Then I don't think they're my kind of demons. They're not drawn to magic?"

Dantro shook his head. "No more than anyone else is, I would venture to say. Most of them are physical fighters, I've heard, those that don't have their own special natural magicks."

"Magic without the drawback of demonic possession. Interesting place I've fetched up in," the big man said as he folded his pelts and re-shouldered his birds.

"The way you kill creatures, you'll probably tame something before long. If you stick around long enough," Dantro said as they started on their way again.

"What do you mean?"

"You're not familiar with taming? You really must not have a lot of fiends where you're from. See, sometimes, when a hunter kills something and proves he's a whole lot stronger than what he killed, the gods make a gift to him of that creature. They take its body and put a tiny piece of the hunter's soul inside it, and it will be your steadfast companion for the rest of your life, contained within a Life Crystal for all time, ready to come forth and serve you at a word."

"That sounds… creepy. It takes a piece of your soul?"

"Oh, the soul is infinite. You could tame millions of critters and never have any less soul than what you started with. Stories tell of great heroes of the ancient days who did just that, too. Of course, most hunters never tame more than a wolf or a cactite or two. Still, anything's better than nothing."

More magic. Stranger and more… frightening… than any magic he had ever heard of in his life. Not that it didn't sound useful, in its way. There were things he could do with an invincible hunting dog, if it really did obey. He felt the usual deep pang in his chest as he thought about his old mabari, but if ever there were a good time for moving on, perhaps he had found it. For moving on from… everything. He was not so sure as Dantro that he would find any assistance in going home in this Rabanastre. The more he learned about the place the more disconnected from his home he felt. He had traveled somehow far further than a ship could take him. If only he could remember.

And then, perhaps… it was best if he didn't find a way back home. Best for everyone. This place might not be under the choicest of circumstances, but he could probably make a decent life here, hunting. And he didn't necessarily have to confine himself to Rabanastre and Dalmasca, either. He could travel. See the world. Apparently there was a great deal more of it than he'd previously been aware of. Might even be - dare he think it? - rather fun. Living for fun was quite an alien concept. He wondered if it was too late for him to learn how to do it. He wondered if he really wanted to. How would it feel to live without a cause to fight for? To die for? A life of no purpose seemed so empty, not that he hadn't lived his life long and full enough already.

They came to the outpost, an area where the arroyos came together at a single, wider area. Oddly, there seemed to be no creatures there. "No Mist here," Dantro explained. "Or at least, that's what people think. In any event, the fiends avoid the place, even the bred-born ones, so it's a nice place to stop and rest, which is why the kingdom likes to post a permanent guard here. There's patrolmen out all over the Estersand, but people can come into the outpost and tell about something nasty they encountered and I'll pass word on to the Estersand patrol for them, or in severe cases post a bounty. If it's near enough I'll go and get it myself, but I'm not really supposed to leave the outpost unmanned."

"Do you have to stay here now?" the big man said, looking around the quiet little guard post.

"Not yet. My shift starts at sunup. Someone should be here now. Tihrzat. Maybe he's using the facilities."

"Ho, there, Danny - don't go spreading nasty rumors about me, eh?" a loud voice broke from the shadows.

"Hey, Tihrzat. Where were you hiding?" Dantro said.

"My seventy-two hours are almost up. Can you blame me for finding a nice, dark corner to rest my eyes in for a couple of quiet hours before my relief shift comes along? You're here a bit early. What'chou up to?" Tihrzat stepped into the torchlight and revealed himself to be a seven-foot tall, green-skinned lizard-like being with a large, wyvern-like head and four long, floppy ears. Or perhaps two long, floppy, split ears. The big man couldn't help but stare.

"What's the matter, boy? Never seen a bangaa before?" Tihrzat asked.

The big man shook his head. "I am sorry, Ser, but no, no I haven't."

"Huh. Where in the Nine Hells do you come from, then?"

"Ferelden, Ser. It's a… long way from here."

"He kind of dropped in on us at South Bank Village unexpectedly, Tihrzat," Dantro said. "I'm taking him to Rabanastre, where he should be able to find a way to get home. Apparently they don't have gate crystals anywhere near his homeland, or at least he isn't seein' 'em right now. Seems to have some gaps in his memory. Would've thought our gate crystal was strong enough to clear it up, but maybe the South Gate crystal in the Big R will do the trick. Or just a good night's sleep. I didn't give him much, and there's certainly better beds than a too-small blanket on the riverbank."

"Dropped in? At night?"

"Literally," Dantro said. "Fell on top of one of the houses and caved in the roof. We reckon he fell off the deck of a low-flying skyplane, but he doesn't seem to remember what happened. Doesn't even seem to know what an airship is, even."

"Really, now?" Tihrzat said, giving the big man a strange look. He took a deep sniff of the air around him. "You know, you smell kind of funny, there, too, big fella. Awfully fresh and clean, like you were just brought into the world somehow, and awfully… Misty. Aw, but that doesn't mean anything, does it? Just that you're a good bather. Don't listen to me. Good luck, fella. Don't let me keep you. Dantro's gotta get back here in time to send me home to sleep for the next three days."

"He's right, Big Guy - dawn approaches," Dantro said. "Come on - it's still a-way's to the city."

"Lead on, Ser."

Dantro took his torch and led the way through a narrow rock fissure into a much wider area that might have qualified as a canyon, though it didn't seem particularly long as the big man was fairly certain he could see the city's walls and towers rising up at the end of it not far away. A few heavy impact tremors on the sandy ground, and a massive, dark-skinned creature hove into sight from behind a rock wall. Thirty feet tall and forty feet long, with a massive head that was mostly jaws, tiny forearms that looked absolutely useless, and a long, powerful tail to balance out the head. The big man drew his sword, instantly on the alert as the creature stomped into view, ready to defend himself, but Dantro held him back with a calm hand.

"Don't worry. If you don't bother it, it won't bother you," he said.

"What is it?" the big man said in a shaky voice.

"Wild saurian. Most of them are very aggressive, but for some reason this one isn't. That's why nobody puts a bounty out on it. If someone killed it, the gods would put another one here that wouldn't be so friendly. This one helps keep the wolf population down. You probably won't need to fight through here. Probably."

"Yeah. All right. If you say so." Ice-blue eyes still staring wide-open and fixed on the wild saurian, the big man slowly with a slightly trembling hand returned his sword to its scabbard. He followed after Dantro as the man led on towards the city walls in the near distance.

There was a small tree, growing on a tiny plateau of sandstone in the middle of the canyon floor. The big man gazed upon it with almost as much wonder as the wild saurian. How did it stay alive out here? He hadn't seen any other trees anywhere, though there had to be more to this desert than what he had seen thus far. He assumed it was alive, at least, for in the indirect torchlight he thought he saw leaves upon it, but it was still quite dark beyond that little circle of light, and he couldn't be quite certain. He probably could have seen it better without the torch, truth be told. He had excellent night vision.

They worked their way out of the canyon and there sat Rabanastre, all walls and towers, a dark and, as far as the big man could see, ugly edifice of spires and minarets that split the night sky like immunization needles and squat walls that sat the desert like a dried-up bullfrog whose injections had come far too late. Dantro led him up to a paved forecourt before a massive closed gate.

"Well, this is where I'll have to leave you, because I really have to get back to the outpost," he said. "You should touch the gate crystal; it'll recharge your Mist and maybe boost your memory. It's right over there, see? This one's blue, the one in the South Gate forecourt is orange, like South Banks Village's, see? Anyway, good to know you, er… hey, I never did get your name, did I?" He held out his hand to shake as he stumbled over the goodbye.

The big man looked down at the offered hand uncertainly and committed what he considered the First Sin. "I… can't remember my name, Ser. I remember a lot, but there's a lot more I've forgotten, and for right now at least my name is just… gone. Hopefully it'll come back soon." He swallowed the dry lump in his throat.

"Oh. Well. Whatever your name is, you're welcome back in South Banks anytime. You need something, just call on Dantro, all right?" And Dantro grabbed his big hand and shook it vigorously. Then he turned and left.

The big man stood and watched the torch light fade into the distance, then turned and approached the gate, wondering exactly how he was supposed to gain entry into the city. There didn't seem to be any guardsmen of whom he could beg entrance. But the massive gate slid open as he approached, startling him. He squared his shoulders and entered. Maker help him, this looked to be his home now.