There was no mistaking the fact that Sint did not trust Dante. Each step they made was calculated and measured. By the time they reached the Hall of Flames to get their full briefing, Dante felt as if each inch of her body had been documented and pinned to a wall. Like she'd been dissected and put into a glass box like a butterfly. This didn't stop Dante from trying to break the silence. Midway through their paces, a much too curious Garlean looked over her shoulder. Still adjusting to the gap between their heights, she watched with mild amusement as the au ra craned her neck to look Dante in the eye. "So, if we're to work together, I'd like to know what your gimmick is."

"Gimmick? Do I look the part of a mummer?" The displeasure of conversing with Dante was evident in Sint's glare.

Dante just shrugged. Ouch! She was even more icy now that they were out of Arvis' line of sight. Either this meant Sint was worried about getting out of the good graces of her employer, or she liked her insults to be in a more personal setting. Sure, they were walking through the most populated section of Ul'dah, but nobody was getting in their way. Who would? Ul'dah may have been the glittering jewel in the sands, a fearsome city of tall spires and gilded streets, but it was fully aware of the shadows that these things cast. That, and the things that made their living in the shadows.

Dante and Sint made a good duo to scare away the 'honest' folk. A crimson-clad gunbreaker that looked like she was a miniature replica of Ifrit and a towering ex-Imperial who, if not for her pink hair, looked like she could be Zenos yae Galvus' sibling were certainly a strange couple. And if not just for their appearances, there was also the sheer intensity of Sint Dagan. Dante wasn't certain she'd ever encountered someone so… terse. So tense. So sincerely intense. There wasn't a facade about her disposition. At least, Dante figured as much. The way she carried herself was not filled with a self-righteous swagger, it was wholly purposeful and efficient. Sint didn't look at Dante like she was a threat, but she did not put on an air of superiority about it. They were opposites in much of the way they acted.

Dante was all bluster and swagger.

Sint simply was Sint.

This was the best read she could get out of Sint as she weighed her response. "Ah, no. No. You're too severe for that line of work, though I'm certain some would be greatly interested in a jester's career for you. If just to put you in scant clothes." Dante just grinned. "What I want to know is what your skills are. What do you do? Have any hobbies?"

"I am strong." Sint responds matter-of-factly. "And my employer often tells me that I am good at scaring children. That, I suppose, should constitute as a 'hobby'. None of my hobbies require me to undress myself."

"A shame… er. You're good at scaring adults too. Between you and me, we've got most of the world's population quivering." She didn't let her broad smile fade, though the lack of information did annoy her just slightly. The gunblade on her back and the clinking of cartridges told her the bare minimum, that Sint Dagan fashioned herself a Gunbreaker of the Bozjan variety. But what else was she? Did she manipulate the aetheric skills of her homeland? Was she traditional Bozjan, through and through? How did she fight? And truly, what was her approach? So many questions. The Garlean shook her head. "You should also add 'orator' to your list of professions. Eloquence such as your's is rare!"

The au ra closed her eye and stopped dead in her tracks, forcing Dante to whirl on her heel and clench her fists. Defense was her first thought. But then Sint simply opened her eye again and let her low monotone defuse the tension. "We have arrived."

Had Sint already made Dante this nervous? It was rare for someone to so quickly and so easily get beneath her skin.

Sint left Dante speechless as she went ahead. "Stop your gawking if you wish to catch our briefing. I will not wait for you."

She was even certain that she could handle this entire operation on her own. The Immortal Flames might have been concerned with Sint's ability to clean up Project Herakles, but she clearly wasn't. It wasn't confidence. It simply was what she believed. And that was irritating beyond belief.

Dante snapped her mouth shut before she retorted with something entirely not witty. Her long strides made quick work of the gap Sint made between them and before long, they stood before the Flame who put this all together. A middle-aged Hellsguard stood ahead of them, suited in the finery that designates an Officer of the Immortal Flames. His horned helm rested in the crook of his arm, his other hand resting with ease atop the hilt of a longsword. A slight frown crested his craggy face as he spotted Dante, though he was quick to remedy that.

That small facial twitch was not much, but it was enough for Sint to go off of. This Flame Commander knew Dante. How they knew one another was something she wasn't particularly invested in learning the answer to, so she kept quiet, waiting for him to speak. Dante took the lead, much to Sint's chagrin. "How's your back?"

"Healed, no thanks to you." The roe's low voice rumbled. "It's good to see you in good health, mercenary."

Sint bobbed her head. "Skip the pleasantries, Commander."

This Flame Commander, Blasted Hollow, did not let the eccentricities of both women mar his mood. "If not for the mission at hand, I would never put two volatile personalities like you two together. But desperate times call for desperate deeds, and I am a desperate man. With the Immortal Flames spread thin defending the homefront and the myriad interests of Ul'dah, as well as the demand faced for the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, as well as the already pre-existing troubles we've faced… I have been forced to call upon mercenaries and adventurers. For the first leg of this operation, however, I am lucky to be able to only require a scant force. One of you alone is enough to deal with most threats the Flames face, so two of you should be enough to handle a dangerous rogue Garlean weapon's project."

"A project that you've figured I was a part of, huh?" Dante palmed her fist. "Very astute, Holly."

He groaned. "That name again? Was breaking my spine not enough to emasculate this poor veteran?"

"I could get nastier. You all shared a barracks with me during that crisis, remember?" As she said it, an even nastier grin crossed her face.

He grimaced. "Dante, please. Keep your insults in your head, or at least keep them sanitized enough for the Invader."

"What, she's a prude?"

Sint looked blankly at the both of them. He walked over to Dante, whispering in her ear. "I don't think she gets it."

Dante just mouthed an 'O' shape.

Blasted Hollow cleared his throat. "With that distraction put aside, the first stage of this mission will require you to secure passage to Dravania. More specifically, the outskirts of the abandoned Sharlayan colony. The reasons behind this will become clearer once you reach the site, but I can't divulge too many more details here."

"The Project made it to Dravania? How?"

"Not the Project exactly, but something that we figure you can trace back to it."

"What does this have to do with Head Researcher Durans?"

Blasted Hollow's head shook. "I cannot divulge that information. Not here."

"What the fu-"

Sint cleared her throat. "Passage to Dravania is not an easy task, Commander. The trek is arduous by land, and few captains take their vessels north for fear of retribution of pirates and dragons alike." Then she tilted her head just a fraction. "Unless you mean for us to find the Ferryman of Vylbrand."

Dante grumbled. "I wasn't done, y'know!"

"I care not, for your words were to waste my time. We both have a goal to pursue, do we not?" She tapped her tongue to accentuate the t in not.

"I suppose we do." Dante's brows furrowed. "But I'd like-"

"Then I'd like you to keep your mouth closed. Vapid thoughts will do naught but stall our proceedings. 'Tis already trouble that I am given an interloper as my partner for this course, but I do not take kindly to the very same interloper believing she commands my time." Sint's voice stays steady the entire time. Dante's respect and loathing for the au ra grows in equal measure. "Commander, if we are to contact the Ferryman, I trust you do not expect us to procure his toll."

"Alas, I do. Things aren't as simple as they were a few months ago. I can only provide your passage to Limsa Lominsa. The rest is up to you until you reach Dravania." He exhales through his nose. "To answer the question before you ask it, Dante, you won't be flying blind when you get there. Someone you met during the crisis is waiting for you and Sint both in Idyllshire."

"Avin?" A shake of the head. "Jeralt?" Another shake of the head. "Hell. That just leaves Leon and Billie." Then her eyebrow slowly began to rise.

"No, it's not Immaculate Will. As much as she's qualified for these sorts of things, she's also better suited where she's currently stationed. Quelling the fighting out in Paglth'an has been an extensive thing, see." He rubbed the flat of his nose. "Leon is our man in the field. He'll fill you in on the rest!" His hand lifted from the hilt of his blade as he gestured for a helmeted Flame soldier to approach.

The soldier was carrying Aetheryte passes. Sint took it, but a slow and horrible realization grew over her. Garleans couldn't use aether, could they? They could teleport using aetherytes, but it usually required some sort of machine or… another who could use aether. It seems Dante made the same connection, nervously smiling down at Sint when the au ra went to face her. Commander Blasted Hollow went on with his busy day, off to brief some more hapless adventurers that the Immortal Flames had signed on for these difficult times. He let the two figure out their difficulties.

"Well, so, how does this work?" The Garlean fell in next to Sint as they moved a little away from the Hall of Flames. "Do I just hold your hand and have you teleport us out?"

"That is how it works, more or less. But I am afraid you will have to find transit by other means." Sint appeared to begin levitating as she held her hand close to her chest. "I refuse to make contact with you."

"Afraid you'll catch a disease?" Dante taunted. "Or are you that scared of me?"

A Garlean's jeers would usually never bother Sint, but something about this overbearing woman daring to declare that Sint was afraid of her broke her concentration. Sint's teleportation spell fizzled out. "Scared of you? I am afraid of nothing. The march of time is inevitable. Death is inevitable. Fear is meaningless to the grinding wheels of fate. To be afraid is to be willing to be swept up by the tide of the inexorable, and I sincerely do not have the time for that. So you will either acquiesce, or you will be left behind." A finger would be jabbed at Dante. "For your sake, I hope you remain here."

Dante wasn't sure if she was excited or frightened by Sint's tirade. "...Sheesh. I was just teasing. Limsa, right?"

Sint's mouth curls at the tips. It's hard to tell if she's smiling or frowning. "It is good you have basic listening skills."

"Don't treat me like a savage, savage." Dante sneers.

Sint doesn't afford her an answer, only returning to her silent trance. Unbeknownst to Sint, Dante was not your average Garlean. Sure, she wasn't the most talented with magic due to it being still a very new presence to her, her artificial magitek heart gave her the ability to use rudimentary spellcraft. Something as simple as attuning to and using an aetheryte was child's play for her. Her attempt to tease her new companion only ended up blowing up in her face. Sincerely, Dante wanted to see more. She wanted to see how far she could push Sint.

It was remarkable how this magic made her feel. Through her entire career as a loyal soldier of Garlemald, not once did she ever feel such a rush. Battle, victory, none of it felt the same as her maiden voyage into the vast aetheric sea. Aether was innate to the world, yet a Garlean was ever limited in their ability to feel it. To sup upon the depths of its majesty required the sons and daughters of Garlemald to defile their bodies with the divine science of the heavens. Fell machines and arcane learning could break their limits, to touch the realm of Gods. The Gods that the Empire loathed.

It ignited her veins to touch the realm of magic, and the ignition sparked Dante's very core. For just a moment, as her body was turned into aetheric energy to cross the thaumaturgical sea, she felt that she could do anything. And by her landing, she still felt that rush. Feet solidly planted atop white stone, a strong sea-faring wind blew Thanalan's desert sand from her body. The sea swept her hair in its prevailing wind, as a grin crossed her sunkissed face. Such was the joy of teleportation, the joy of freedom. The joy she felt being free from Garlemald and basic Garlean biology was something she hoped never faded.

Sint did not revel in the same ways that Dante did with such a basic facet of life on Hydaelyn. Nay, she clutched at her chest for a scarce few moments before collecting herself. "Talent for the aetheric arts is rare among your kin. Prithee, answer me honestly… Were you involved with Project Herakles?"

Something about that question itched Dante's nostalgia, though she still wasn't quite sure why. "I was. You could say that I was what the Project's original goals were. A mighty soldier of Garlean make, free from the oppression of our birth. A hero akin to everlasting Herakles, a hero that existed before even the storied Allagans."

"So, you were given power, and you found fault in the people that gave you this strength?" Sint wasted no time. "Power is yet your aim, but you do not seek it through such ill-begotten methods."

"Jackpot." Dante finger gunned at Sint.

"Never do that again." Chilly ever still, Sint brushed Dante off for the sake of continuing their mission. "To meet with the Ferryman, we must procure his toll."

"What sorta toll? Gil? Gold?" Dante patted around her coat.

"Nothing is ever that easy. The Ferryman will take you wherever you wish, no matter the location, no matter the situation. As long as you bring him that which he desires…" Sint reaches for her own armored jacket's pocket.

"Which is? Don't leave me in suspense!"

Sint procured a map. "A block of goblin cheese. It should be a simple matter."

"Your mysterious Ferryman is willing to go through heaven and hell for cheese." Dante couldn't help but feel like she was being pranked.

Sint opened her map. "Well, yes. Such is the way of the world. Stranger things have been done for less."

Dante crossed her arms while waiting for Sint to finish looking at her map. "You have any examples?"

"If I said I didn't, I don't think you'd believe me. So to save myself a later annoyance…" She takes a moment to think. "Ah. When I first adventured to Southern Thanalan, I found myself in need of assistance. I came across a tribal miqo'te in the Sagoli who was willing to put her life on the line if I scratched her neck to a satisfactory degree."

"Y'know, that's about as weird sounding as sex as a reward." Dante shrugs. "If a bastard with magic hands shows up and starts rubbing my shoulders, I'll probably be ready to bleed for his cause too."

The au ra begins to roll up her map. "That is nonsensical."

"I just don't think you know how to have fun." She tuts.

So began the adventure of two opposites. Of brooding midnight and sunny vibrancy. Mayhaps they were brought together with a meaning, or their union happened out of sheer random chance. Either way, mixing fire and gunpowder is liable to cause a boom. A boom that these sheer opposites are mostly likely to cause.

For that is the Ferryman's Toll. Prove your mettle by securing him a mundane good through an arduous trial, and he shall take you to even the most distant shore. It is the trial that earns you your passage. As trials make heroes, and heroes deserve all the help the world can muster.