CHAPTER ONE
The streets of Jueno raged with noise, as hundreds of civilians and adventurers walked through, stopping to shop and talk. Some of these people shouted for help on missions or for financial aid. Others quietly browsed the auction house, looking for an item of importance to them to go on sale. One of these quiet browsers at the auction house was a young Hume named Aragon.
Aragon was the son of an ex-soldier gone merchant, named Marc. Aragon had his father's brown and somewhat dismantled hair, as well as his good physique. But he had his mothers beautiful blue eyes. His mother, Katherine, and his father were heroes at the battle that took place in Tavnazia twenty years before then. His father was the commander of a small squadron of men in that battle, and his mother was the medic who took care of them. After the battle Marc and Katherine escaped, and came to live in Jueno to raise a family.
Soon before they were to be married Katherine found out she was pregnant with Aragon's older brother, Ryaneth. Since Marc no longer wanted to be in the military he sought his fortune as a traveling merchant. Four years after Ryaneth was born, Aragon came into the world. Aragon and Ryaneth got along fine with their mother, but argued constantly with Marc because he was rarely in town. One day, seven years ago, Ryaneth and Marc argued so intensely that Ryaneth marched out the door saying that he was going to join the military. Aragon had not seen or heard from his brother since.
Aragon grew up in Jueno, being known as a rich kid, and made fun of often for it. He sometimes wished that his parents were not known as heroes in a battle, nor that his father was a famous merchant. But he figured that he had it better then many of the people in the town, so he did not complain for the most part. Especially since he knew that since his older brother was gone, he was going to be the one left in charge of the bazaar after his father retired. This day that he had both looked forward to, and dreaded was upon him.
Aragon snapped out of his thoughts and walked up to the auctioneer, who was getting ready to go on his break. Aragon pulled out his bag of Gil, cleared his throat to get the auctioneers attention. "Um sir I was wondering if I could buy some meat mithkabobs for the journey I'm about to take," Aragon said.
The auctioneer who was clearly not happy to see him shook his head and replied in a stern voice, "No, I'm sorry sir. You will have to wait a few moments until the next auctioneer starts his shift; I'm done for the day." He then proceeded to pack his belongings into his back pack and started walking away.
Aragon however did not have much time, as he had waited until the last second. But he knew there was one power in the world that few could resist to help him get his way. He took out a thousand Gil piece coin, and tossed it to the auctioneer. The auctioneer paused and looked at Aragon. Aragon walked up confidently and put his arm around the auctioneers shoulder, "There's more where that came from and I'm in a hurry. So do you have some meat mithkabobs, or am I going to have to pick up the ingredients from a shop to make them myself?"
The auctioneer shrugged, opened his pack, and took out a paper containing a list of all items on the auction at the time. He looked through the food section of the packet, and found that there were ten stacks of meat mithkabobs on sale at the time. He turned to Aragon and told him, "Well it appears I have to work for another few minutes. So, yes there are ten stacks of twelve on sale today. The last few stacks were sold for ten thousand a stack. Would you like to make a bid on them sir?"
Aragon thought to a minute then proposed, "Yes I will bid ten thousand on all the stacks, and I want all the stacks, so that's one hundred thousand total I am willing to bid."
The auctioneer's face jumped in surprise at the bid, it wasn't often that someone would spend a hundred thousand Gil on food at a time, or at least not this quality of food. But money is money, the more they sold, the larger his pay was going to be, "Wait a moment sir, I will check the prices on the items, and bring you back as many stacks as I can for your proposed offer."
The auctioneer walked to the back of the auction house where they stored all the items for bid. He came back with two bags full of meat mithkabobs. He looked at Aragon and shook his head, "I'm sorry sir for a hundred thousand you can only get nine stacks. The last stack costs a bit more then ten grand. I'm sorry about that sir."
Aragon laughed a little, then turned back to the auctioneer and threw him another ten thousand Gil, "I need that last stack, get me the food and keep the change as a tip for staying over your shift." The auctioneer nodded excitedly and came back with another small bag containing twelve meat mithkabobs. He ran up to Aragon excitedly, and handed him the bag. He then thanked Aragon profusely and continued packing up his items.
Mission complete, Aragon had all of his needed items to bring on the journey he would be setting out on, now? Aragon looked at the sundial in the middle of the square, if that was right he was supposed to be meeting his merchant caravan in the port right now. He cursed and ran as fast as he could through the streets, and down the long staircase into the port.
Aragon paused to catch his breath at the bottom of the staircase in Port Jueno. He stood up, and stretched, admiring the tall buildings before he set off to meet his caravan near the chocobo stables. He finally made it to his party, who were loading the chocobo's with saddles and luggage. His father saw him, and walked over to him, his face hardened and angry. He grabbed Aragon by the shoulder, and spoke sternly to him, "Where the hell were you? I told you to be on time just this once; to what could quite possibly be the most important day of your life, and you stride in almost forty minutes late."
Aragon stepped back, removing his fathers hand and looked him in the eyes annoyed, "It's not my fault that there was trouble at the auction house! I mean damn, it's not like I really care about going on a stupid caravan to Bastok because you want me to become a successful merchant. If I had my way I'd follow Ryaneth and become an adventurer."
Marc snapped at him angrily, "I told you not to say that name around me! Your brother was a fool; I know I was in battle. It brings you nothing in the end. At least by being a merchant you can make a living for yourself. I mean you get to travel, what the hell do you want?"
Aragon sighed, not knowing how he should handle this. He decided to be the better man, and end the argument now, "Look I'm going with you on this caravan to become a merchant. I will keep your business going, whether I like it or not. I think we've decided that it was not my fault I was late, so let's just forget it, and get going."
His father murmured something under his breath, then sighed and asked, "Did you at least get the supplies I asked for?" Aragon shoved the bags into his fathers arms, and walked away to go saddle his chocobo. What the hell was wrong with that man? No matter what Aragon did, there was still something bad that his father could criticize him for. Aragon never wanted to become a merchant anyway, but he did not have that much choice in the matter, so he agreed and went along with his chosen path.
After all the chocobo's were saddled, and all supplies and equipment were secured his father walked to the front of the caravan. He looked around, and then explained the plan. Today they were to travel across the bridge into Rolanberry fields. There they were to camp and wait until the next day to travel through the marshlands into Konshant Highlands. On the third day they would make it to the Republic of Bastok by dusk. After all questions were answered the caravan set out.
Aragon had only ridden a chocobo once before, and that was to pass the chocobo license test. Before that and after that he had only lived in Jueno, and the most he had ever seen of the outside world was the areas around Jueno where it was safe for children to play during the summer. Really the only link to the outside world he had was the stories that his father and adventurers told him. But the outside world sounded amazing. Monsters, beastmen, huge forests and mountains were just some of the many things that Aragon had heard of, but had never seen before.
After a few hours though, Aragon found that the outside world was not that great. It was a hot day in Rolanberry, and the sun pounded down on his neck like the lava from an erupting volcano. The caravan had to stop around midday to take a break from the heat, and even the chocobo's were getting tired. So far the only monsters that Aragon had seen were an ugly huge caterpillar like creature, known as a crawler, and a huge blue monster called a goobue, who guarded the fields.
The group got back on their chocobo's and continued the run through the fields. After a few hours riding a chocobo began to hurt. Aragon's groin was getting sore from sitting with his legs spread so far apart, and from the movement of the chocobo making him subtly bounce up and down. He was just happy that chocobo's ran at a much faster pace then a person would, that way at least they would get to their camp before to long.
A while down the twisting path, which led between the huge hills in the field, a member of the caravan shouted for the group to stop. Aragon pulled back on his chocobo to slow it down. There was quite a bit of mumbling through out the group before the Galka that stopped the caravan pointed over to the side and in front of them. Standing there were several large turtle like humanoid creatures. They stood about a foot taller then a Hume, and had scaly faces with lifeless small yellow eyes. They had a shell that covered their body, and some of the shells seemed to have strange designs carved into them. Aragon leaned over to the Mithra next to him and asked her, "What the hell are those things?"
The Mithra glanced over at them and told him in a low purring voice, "Those are Quadav's. They are a type of beastmen that terrorrrrrize Bastok. Right now adventurers are allowed to have open conflict with them, so I would be cautious of coming across one."
Aragon pondered for a moment, still confused of why they stopped, "Why did we stop? Those things look slow, it's not like a chocobo couldn't outrun one of those."
The Mithra shrugged, "I don't know. I think it probably is because therrre are several of them, and even if the chocobo's can outrrrun them, if therrre are a lot they can ambush us, and an ambush would not be good."
"Then why are we sitting here as easy targets," asked Aragon frustrated. It was at this point the Quadav's walked back away from the path and out of sight. After another few minutes, Aragon's father gave the signal to move on.
Finally after several long, hot hours the fields started to turn into swamp, and the party came to a stop. It was already sundown, and the group still had to set up tents. Aragon got off his chocobo, rubbing his rear which was extraordinarily sore after the long days ride. He did not think that he could go another day like that. He grabbed a piece of bread and a juice and started to snack while he set up his tent. He did not want to be in the same tent as another person, except for that Mithra who rode next to him. He would not mind spending a night in a tent alone with her. Finally the camp was set up by the time the sun was gone, and the day had turned into an eerie night.
Aragon walked to one of the camp fires, and heated up a mithkabob. He sat in the corner and chewed on it, sorting through the days events. After he was done eating he went into his tent, and started to get ready to sleep. It was at this point that his father came into his tent, and sat next to him.
Aragon remained silent, still frustrated with his father for being so ridiculous about such little matters. So his father sighed and started the conversation, "Look son, eh, I'm sorry about being hard on you. I just didn't want you to make the same mistake your brother or I did, and throw your life away to war before you've even experienced the good things in life. I guess what I'm saying is just try having a good time on this caravan, and if you don't want to be a merchant then you have my blessings to become an adventurer. But at least try my way of life first, please."
Aragon lightened a little bit; it was a rare occurrence when his father apologized for something. Aragon nodded, but still did not speak at first. There was silence for several moments before his father turned to his bag and started digging in it for something. He pulled out something that looked like a sword, wrapped in cloth. "I want to give you something," his father said unwrapping the sword. The sword was short, but had a nice curve to it. It was bronze with an iron hilt and center. His father examined the sword for a minute, before he handed it to Aragon.
Aragon looked at the sword for a moment, and then tried holding it in one hand to see how it felt. It was light enough, but it would get heavy after a while if he ever needed to use it. After examining the sword he put it beside him and said, "Thanks… But what's it for?"
"Like I said, Aragon," his father paused, "I want you to become a merchant, but it's your life. This was my first sword, it's called an onion sword, and I would be happy if you made it your first weapon too. Besides, it's not like the caravan never gets attacked, although it's rare, and I'd rather you be armed then not in such the case. Well anyway I hope you like it, and I hope it serves you well until you get a better one. Be up at dawn tomorrow, good night."
His father started to leave, Aragon stopped him for a minute, "Good night, and thanks pop." His father smiled and left the tent. Aragon picked the sword back up and played around with it until he fell asleep, finally feeling content with being a merchant. Soon though that would all change.
Aragon was rudely awoken the next morning, long before he normally would. Somebody yelled at him to get up through his tent, right when he was getting to the good part of his dream. He got up, yawned, and quickly began to shove his belongings in his back pack. He exited his tent to see that once again he was running late and that the other caravan members had already finished packing and were eating breakfast. Aragon just hoped his father did not notice, and if he did he was still in his good mood.
Aragon untied the ropes of his tent, letting the cloth fall to the ground. He then rolled up the tent, and tied the ropes around it. He brought it to his chocobo and saddled her up. The enormous yellow bird made a 'kweh' sound, telling Aragon that it was hungry. Aragon fed the bird a bundle of ghysal greens, and gave it a bowl of water. He then went to go eat breakfast, but was stopped by his father.
His father looked like he was no longer in his apologetic mood, and when his words confirmed it. His father shook his head at Aragon and said, "No time for breakfast. You had the choice to sleep in or to eat, and you chose sleeping so saddle up, we're leaving now."
Aragon made a rude gesture behind his fathers back, and grabbed a cookie for the road. Soon afterwards the chocobo's were off again, running at full speed through the dark swamps of Passhow. The sky over the swamps was dark, and before noon it began to rain. Each rain drop felt like a cold pebble hitting Aragon in the face at the speed they were moving. Luckily Aragon had gotten used to riding a chocobo, so his groin no longer bothered him as much.
Here there were even more Quadav's and other monsters. However, the caravan never stopped, probably because this area was not only dangerous, but the weather did not seem to be getting much better. There was a point where the chocobo's started to slow down because of the deep mud that covered the marshes, and not even the path was clean at this point. Aragon counted the moments until he was out of this dreaded swamp, as his tunic became more and more soaked from the rain. But eventually the storm subsided, and the hills and green land of Konshant came into view.
Aragon gave a sigh of relief when the group exited the marshlands and came into the cold, but beautiful highlands. The entire area was covered with rolling hills, and huge mountains. The sky here was clear, and the breeze felt cool and refreshing. The grass here had dew from the storm, and the sunlight started to dry Aragon's drenched clothes. The entire group stopped for a moment to admire the beauty of the place before moving on.
The sun had passed its high point in the sky by now, and was beginning to drop beneath the hills. Aragon's father insisted they make it to a place known as the crag of Dem before making camp. Aragon had no idea what a crag was, but it sounded like something he had wanted to see. Within two hours of their arrival in the highlands, Aragon saw a huge white mountain like structure to the south west. The Elvaan next to him told him that this was the crag of Dem.
As the caravan got closer, the crag grew bigger. It was made out of a metallic like surface, and looked almost organic. It had several large sides sticking out of it, and an enormous round center that reached to the sky, and ended with a point. It was the most beautiful and strangest sight Aragon had ever seen. Sun down came and the group was at the crag itself. Aragon quickly dismounted his chocobo and ran up to it, feeling the hard, but smooth surface, and admiring the fact that he could not see the top from here.
A small Tarutaru walked up next to him and said in his small high pitched voice, "It's amazing, wazing isn't it? Nobody knows how these craggy, waggys came into being, although there are several theory wearies. It's so enormously enormous that I don't know who could build something like that."
Aragon nodded silently, still in awe at the sheer beauty of this organic like structure. Aragon quickly decided however to set up, so that way he could eat and get to bed early. His stomach had been bothering him all day, and he was not willing to risk missing breakfast tomorrow. He set up his tent quickly, and sloppily, and then happily walked over to grab something to eat. Once again though his father walked up to him, once again he was going to tell Aragon something he did not want to hear.
"Hello son," his father chuckled, "Um well it appears that a certain Galka did not bring enough fire wood to last us through tonight. So it would be a great help if you could take this hatchet and help gather some, it'll let you explore a little too. But don't go too far. Okay? Thanks." His father walked away leaving Aragon a hatchet.
"But…" Aragon sighed and went to his task. Well at least he could go be alone, but that did not change the fact that he was famished. He walked over a few hills and found a tree. It seemed that very few trees grew here, so there went the idea of staying close to the camp. Aragon shrugged, picked up the hatchet, and swung it, making a branch come halfway dismembered off the tree. Another swing and that branch fell to the ground. After half an hour Aragon only managed to get three branches off the tree, and a few sticks. But then, he heard shouting coming from the direction of the camp.
Aragon dropped his hatchet and ran towards the camp, emerging on the hill right in front of the camp. What he saw was a horrible sight. Over fifty Quadav's had invaded their camp, and had proceeded to set fire to the tents, and start slaying members of the caravan. In front of him a Galka swung his axe valiantly, taking out a Quadav. But behind him another Quadav cast a spell that held the Galka in place as another Quadav swung its huge sword, ending the Galka's life.
Aragon couldn't bear to watch anymore, at this point his only choice was to run or fight. After a second of thinking he drew his sword that his father had given him the day before, and charged towards the camp. He ran up to a Quadav that wasn't paying attention, and hit it across the back of the head. Much to Aragon's dismay this attack was not strong enough to do anything, and the Quadav quickly turned on him, knocking his sword out of the way, and tackling Aragon to the ground. The Quadav walked up and got its sword ready to deliver the final blow.
Just as Aragon flinched he heard his father shout, "Aragon, No!" The shout alarmed the Quadav just long enough for Aragon's father to stab the Quadav to the ground. His father turned to him, his face scorned and sweaty, "Aragon run. Get to Bastok by heading to the south. Any surviving members of the caravan will meet you there, but go now!"
Aragon nodded faintly and got up; he started to sprint as fast as he could away from the battle field. Right as he was running away he heard his father scream in pain. He looked back and saw a Quadav stab his father through his back. His father though kept fighting, and killed it as several more started to gang up on him. The horrifying sight was the least of Aragon's worries now as several more Quadav's noticed him and started chasing him.
Aragon did not take any time trying to out run them. He started sprinting again towards what looked like south, though right now he did not care what direction he went as long as he got away. But the bastards kept getting closer, they could run amazingly fast for turtle creatures, and Aragon was starting to run out of breath. Finally he stopped, drew his sword and decided that he could not get away, so he would go down fighting.
Right before the Quadav's reached him a small ball came flying out of nowhere; hit one of the Quadav's, killing it, and exploded. Aragon looked, and there stood a man in a white and black gi. He was dressed in the outfit of a martial artist, and snapped his knuckles before putting a wooden hand to hand weapon on each hand. The man then ran down into the small group of Quadav's and proceeded to punch each one into submission with powerful, yet well formed punches. With in a minute the Quadav's that were chasing Aragon were dead on the ground.
The man paused to catch his breath. His hair was similar to Aragon's, but his face was more mature and he had dark brown eyes instead of Aragon's blue eyes. The man looked at Aragon sternly and said, "Let's go, there will be more coming to look for survivors, and I don't want us to be here when they get here."
Aragon stood up and the man grabbed Aragon's arm and started running. At first Aragon almost tripped trying to keep up with this person, but he regained his balance and the instinct to survive took over, making Aragon run faster then ever. But they made it to the exit of the highlands, to a dry rocky path that lead down to the area around Bastok. Here they paused for several moments, but the man explained that they would not be safe until they got to Bastok.
The moon shined brightly on the dry and rocky landscape of this land known as Gustaberg. The man brought Aragon to the side of a huge water fall. The enormous mass of raging water started on a plateau almost fifty feet above them, and hit the bottom almost one hundred and fifty feet below. The man paused at this place, and instead of walking over to the bridge he walked to the cliff by the waterfall.
The man seemed to think for a moment then turned to Aragon and said, "Okay look if we cross the bridge we're still going to be at risk from being attacked by Quadav's. If we climb this…"
Aragon interrupted him abruptly, "Wait what climb a fifty foot cliff?"
The man continued, "Yes if we climb this we will be safe from the Quadav's since they can't climb. Also we'll make it to Bastok several hours earlier. I'm climbing, if you want to go the long way, there's the bridge." The man jumped on the wall, placing his foot firmly between rocks, and proceeded to climb.
Aragon groaned to himself, and then decided that although both ways were suicidal at this point, it would be better to follow this guy's lead and climb. Aragon grabbed onto a rock and proceeded to pull his foot into a foot hold. He did this several times, every time he'd take himself higher he'd pause to make sure he would not miss a hold and fall. After about twenty minutes he was more then half way up the cliff, but he did not dare look down. It was grueling as well as terrifying work, but after what seemed like an eternity Aragon was at the top, and the man pulled him over the ledge to safety.
Aragon gulped, feeling queasy as he peeked over the cliff he had just climbed. He backed away before he got up, still shaken about the last hour. The man pulled out a flask of distilled water, took a swig and offered it to Aragon. Aragon drank some thankfully before they started walking towards the Republic city. After they were on the path the man stopped for a moment.
"I have to give you props for trying to stand up to those Quadav's. I mean an adventurer with your experience can't take them, but you tried anyway. I couldn't say I was that brave when I first started adventuring," the man shrugged.
"Um, actually I'm not an adventurer," said Aragon sheepishly, trying not to disregard the compliment.
The man turned to him, "What? No way. Are you serious you're not an adventurer?"
"Yes," Aragon paused, "I was actually a merchant on that caravan that got attacked. But thanks anyway."
"Okay," the man turned and started walking again, "But still you did well, especially for a merchant. What's your name anyway?"
"Aragon," Aragon replied, "Aragon son of Marc."
The man stopped looked down sternly then started walking again, "Well nice to meet you Aragon. Let's get to Bastok. I'll bring you to the Steaming Sheep for a drink; it sounds like you need one."
Aragon agreed and followed the man. He wondered why he did not introduce himself as well, but Aragon decided adventurers often did not introduce themselves for whatever reason. They continued the walk until they made it to a large mountain with a tunnel leading inside. The man signaled for Aragon to go through the tunnel, and they emerged on the other side into a huge bustling city.
The man turned to Aragon and said, "Welcome to Bastok." Aragon stood looking at all of these strange houses. The city was not as tall or grand as Jueno, but it was still a sight to behold. It seemed as if the entire city was made out of brick, and it appeared that smoke was coming out of a tall building in the center of the city. The man started moving again then paused and said, "I'll take you on a tour tomorrow. For now let's get to the Steaming Sheep."
After walking through some neighbor hoods they made it to a small building that seemed to be very lively, especially considering the hour. The man opened the doors for Aragon, and they walked into the restaurant. There were over twenty people in here right now, eating, drinking, and talking. It reminded Aragon of the tavern where all of the bards gathered in Jueno. The two sat down at the counter, and the bar keeper walked up to Ryaneth and asked him what he wanted.
"The usual," declared the man then looked at Aragon, "What do you want?"
"I don't care I don't drink too much"
"Okay get another usual then for this guy," the man turned to Aragon again, "Don't worry the drinks are on me."
Aragon thanked him, and the bar tender brought them each a mug filled to the top with a light brown liquor. Aragon took a sip and found that it was very strong, but still good. He drank it quickly, hoping he could drown out the memories of the day. The man next to Aragon watched him for a moment then spoke again, "Whoa now, you're not supposed to chug rum. If you just take a single drink at a time it will still have the same effect, but that way you don't get as sick."
Aragon put down the drink for a moment, already feeling the warmness in his chest and light headedness that liquor caused. Aragon turned to the man and paused before speaking, "Well I just wanted to thank you for helping me out. I'd be dead if you hadn't been there to fight those Quadav's."
The man laughed a little, "Yeah, I know. But that's what friends do. Besides a small group of Quadav's like that was no problem. The huge amount that attacked your caravan was a problem."
Aragon looked down regretful, "I know. I just wish I could have helped them. I mean my father died trying to save me."
The man took a drink then joined Aragon in his seriousness, "I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," Aragon took another shot, "So tell me what kind of adventurer are you?"
The man lightened up some again and started explaining, "Well originally I was a soldier for Bastok. But a few years ago when the nations started sending adventurers out I decided to do that instead. I mean I hate being held down by something like the military, and with adventuring you still get to fight for your country, but you also get to do it your own way," they stopped to drink, "So anyway when I became an adventurer I found an experienced monk. He trained me in the way of martial arts, and that's how I got where I am today."
The man proceeded to tell some stories of his adventures, and Aragon and him talked and drank until the restaurant closed. Before they had to go, on Aragon's third or fourth mug of rum Aragon proposed a toast. "To adventuring," Aragon said happily.
The man shook his head, "There will be time to toast to that soon. For now I say to you and your father!"
Aragon nodded, "To me and my father." They drank until their mugs were empty, and got up to leave. By now Aragon's vision was quite blurry and he had trouble standing straight, but the man helped him out of the restaurant. Almost immediately when they got outside Aragon spewed up the contents of his stomach on the side walk. He caught his breath then, starting to feel a little better. The man brought Aragon to the bridge over the water in the port. Aragon stared at the beautiful sight of the moon light reflecting off of the waves.
"So," said Aragon, "You never told me your name."
"Oh, I'm sorry," said the man, "Well it's…"
At this point a hulking Galka who was starting to go bald, and had a long thin mustache walked up and pushed Aragon's new friend. The man looked at the Galka offended, "And what the hell do you want?"
"It was your fault our master died, Ryaneth," the Galka half said half shouted at the man, "I can't do anything about it here, but heed my word you will regret your sins." The Galka spat on Ryaneth and walked away.
Aragon looked at the man in the eyes. Then he realized why the man had not mentioned his name. Aragon shook his head, "Did he call you Ryaneth?"
Ryaneth nodded, "Yeah. He did."
Aragon laughed a little to himself, "I once had a brother named Ryaneth, but you knew that. You didn't tell me your name because you are my brother, aren't you? And considering that our father just died you didn't want me to know yet."
Ryaneth nodded again, "Yes Aragon, brother. I am, and you pretty much got your guess right. But actually I just didn't tell you my name because I wanted to see if you'd figure it out."
Aragon chuckled, "Yeah well, you left when I was only eleven years old. It's not like I would recognize you. I doubt if even our father would recognize you now."
"I know," Ryaneth said weakly, "Trust me I know. There wasn't a day when I thought about you guys. There wasn't a day when I didn't want to give up on being a soldier and come back to Jueno, but I couldn't because that would just prove our father right."
"Is it really that important that you proved our father wrong," Aragon looked Ryaneth sternly in the eyes, "Was it so important to you to prove him wrong that you would forsake our family?"
"No," Ryaneth paused, "But it was important to me that I came back as something important, somebody that our father could be proud of. I suppose it's too late for that now though. How about you?"
"What do you mean how about me," snapped Aragon, "This isn't about me."
"Yes it is. Whether you realize it or not you like me, and like our father, are a fighter. And you went on that caravan trip so that you could prove to yourself that you could leave home like I did."
Aragon walked away, "It doesn't matter. I'd better check into an inn."
Ryaneth laughed, "Hell no, you're not checking into an inn. What are you thinking? Just stay at my moghouse tonight, and tomorrow you can stay at an inn or preferably become an adventure and get your own moghouse."
Ryaneth started walking down towards the residential district. Aragon shrugged, and followed him. Become an adventurer? He guessed it was time to stop living in the past and follow his dreams. He took another look towards Gustaberg then followed Ryaneth into his new life.