After a week, Hope opened the aged and weathered door to find most of the other children already there. The sun barely sunk over the horizon, leaving streaks of red shining through the gaps in the walls. During the night, wind drafted through those walls like there was nothing there.

"There you are!" cried the Matron, rising from her position at her desk and smelling like medicine. "What took you so long?"

Hope frowned and pulled out his envelope's worth of earnings. "I've earned enough for the night."

"Yes, yes." The older woman wrung her hands. "I'm proud of you, but you missed the responses from the recruiters."

"What?" Hope darted glances around at the other kids, most of those still awake being his own age. They ran under the same deadline to get a position by the end of the month. "What did they say?"

The lady chewed on her lip. "They had few positions open. The rest won't be available for… some time."

Hope felt his heart drop to his stomach. "Anything else? What other options do they have?"

She shook her head. "White magic and medicine is a difficult field to follow, so you'll have to find other ways in. I still recommend you find something else."

Hope stuttered, "Magic is all I have!"

"I would recommend trying black because I'm afraid there's just not a lot of space for you to fit in."

"I don't see why!"

She gestured, "How about you sleep for now? You can try looking again in the morning."

That was it. He couldn't bring himself to accept it, but he knew that shouting at the Matron wouldn't help matters. "Fine." He gripped his satchel closer. "Tomorrow."

He pushed forward and made his way to a bed with not a little difficulty. He caught some jeering looks from the kids that harassed him regularly, but the rest were either sympathetic or didn't have the time to pay him any heed.

"Hey, Hope!" A dark boy bounced his way. "Long time, no see, huh?"

Hope drew up short – he didn't remember him, but maybe the boy entered the orphanage shortly before Hope left. "Hello?"

"It's Dajh!" The boy bounced on his feet. "I've been looking for you for a long time!"

A pale girl joined him. "Nice to meet you, mister Estheim. Don't forget the curfew at six, okay?"

Hope looked about them, but no one seemed to notice their conversation. "We didn't have a curfew-"

"You did." Dajh looked up at him with intent eyes and Hope made out distinct markings along the skin under his eyes and nose. "The God of Light still holds dominion and His rules don't change, do they?"

"I don't think-…" Hope forced himself to swallow despite a crawling in his skin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do." Dajh nudged him in the shoulder and Hope stumbled back. "We'll never let you forget!"

"I need to sleep." Hope turned away. "Please leave me alone."

"We won't do that," said the girl, "but you should remember that it's not a question of can or can't!"

"Yeah. We were told you should remember that."

Hope blinked and did his best to ignore them as he made his way toward his bed. They didn't follow, though that didn't reassure him like it should.

"It's not a question of can or can't," whispered the voice. Hope dropped his satchel by his bed and kicked off his torn shoes before he sunk into the worn mattress, heart pounding. This blanket was worn to the point of being barely a sheet, but he didn't notice most of the time.

Hope looked to the walls of the orphanage, where he could swear a pair of eyes peeked through the cracks. Like the eyes of those kids.

"There's some things," continued the voice, "that you just do. What does it mean?"

He shook his head, fingers ghosting over the coins in his pocket leftover after paying the Matron. The phrase was one the voice repeated every now and again. Hope thought he heard it somewhere before, but he wasn't any closer to placing it now than he was five years ago.

"You don't agree," hummed the voice. Hope wished not for the first time that he could block it out. Replying out loud tended to be easier for communicating with it than thinking, but that attracted attention.

Tried to think of other things, but the voice yanked control of his mind right back.

"What is lightning? Why does it remind us of roses?"

He didn't know. He closed his eyes to block out the stifling sight of the orphanage and dancing flames took its place before fading away to nothingness.

"And battle. Don't shun the darkness."

Hope pulled the covers up farther. Shoved away the temptation to heal himself, though he didn't have much mana left after his jobs anyway.

"We know that one, too, but it's incomplete. What's the second part?"

The voice continued to prattle in confusion. His eyes felt like lead and his limbs ached from running all over the city. He could swear he'd been from one end to the other at least a dozen times. The soles of his feet burned with an intensity he hadn't known since he was an urchin unfound by the government.

Sleep proved difficult to find, as usual, but Hope learned through years of practice how to feign rest when there were still ambling bodies around. He couldn't help the feeling of being watched though, and he worried that he wasn't convincing them this time around.

With cracked eyelids, he saw the edge of a ticking clock.

"An open field," whispered the voice, speaking nonsense as it tended to do around this hour. "Shower of petals, flash of pink hair…"

It almost felt like a lullaby. Hope heard it so many times just before losing consciousness, he associated it with sleep though the exact words changed every night.

"Growing shorter, the objects around you get bigger. Memory growing sluggish…"

Hope shifted and adjusted his breathing. The Matron started her rounds and he heard several sets of footsteps scurry to get into bed.

"Creation of life, subduing and controlling life, nurturing them into a better form."

He curled up against the sheets and refrained from covering his ears. Lullaby though it was, the words left a sense of defeat deep inside him. His heart slowed and chest ached. The chill seeped in through his blanket.

"Distant chorus, soft voices chanting your requiem. Sings the Savior of emotions forgotten and of a love divine. What know you the dark when you're bathed in the purest light? May the cosmos sing you to sleep while worlds develop on the edge of creation."

Amid the voice's incessant rambling, he heard an underlying tone that came as a distant echo, "Crystal-chosen, crystal-bound. With this, your power newfound, find the souls whose fates have unwound. and makers astound, the unfallen."

The fibers of his blanket rubbed against his skin as course as twine. His hand warmed with a cure that he allowed to travel through his system. It came as no small relief.

"Held aloft, the view of eternity in your eyes. What has this puppet given up to taste freedom as sweet as an overripe fruit? What will we not give up to see the light again? What will we give not to?"

With those words in his ears, Hope drifted. He forgot the pain of day and gave in to sleep.

Larsa settled into his seat among the senate, scepter leaned beside him. The opening formalities went underway and he took the time to remind himself of the varying stances from the senators. Most welcomed his involvement and direct communication, but some saw it as needless supervision.

"Now in session," Carid finally said, sitting down. "First order of business: Queen Ashelia will meet with His Majesty regarding the traffic between Archades and Rabanastre in the coming days. Thus, we can finally speak on the highway proposed to be built between cities."

"How is this a necessary development?" asked one. "Would we not benefit more from a different expenditure?"

Responded Fyln, "A question that is posed before the proposal so much as reaches our ears. Must we go over this every time?"

"How can we expect the support of the Judge Magisters on such a vast use of resources? I doubt they'll see the point in making raising a road which we have already."

Larsa steeled himself, then said, "We have the road, yes, but it's fraught with bandits and wilderness and stretches for miles without sight of relief for new travelers. We'll send in the proposal for revision as a dedicated road would consume more than we can afford to pay now. But I would suggest applying for waypoints and sanctuaries for travelers."

One Ilaro clucked his tongue. "So says our great emperor. What use have we when such an authority is present?"

"The idea is sound," said Fyln. "Let's not bring up such sensitive topics until we make our run of the issues present."

Carid moved on. "We should address the weekly raids on the Archadian border."

"Do we know the instigators?" asked one senator.

"A band of pirates. Their pattern involves attacking border villages and leaving them nigh to barren. The people have requested the help of the guards or judges."

Ilaro waved a hand. "Bah. They have their patrol already. The pirates will stop if the villagers showed some resistance, I'm sure."

Larsa turned his way. "You suggest we ignore their plea?"

"I'm suggesting we don't pander to every inconvenience that arises on the border. We cannot allow our army to be indisposed for that long and for such unimportant matters."

Larsa's mouth twitched. "You call the lives of our people 'unimportant?'"

"If you were paying attention, Majesty, you would know that no lives were lost. Only supplies."

"Supplies that could mean the difference between life and death for the people. We should dispatch a squad of soldiers to help." Larsa cast a look to Ilaro. "That way we won't lose our army but the villagers will rest assured."

"Of course, Majesty."

Larsa didn't miss the hostile look Ilaro sent his way, nor the smug quirk of another's lips. One senator gave an exaggerated huff and fell back into his seat.

Carid continued. "What of the issue of taxes? We've discussed a slight increase to accommodate the expenses endured for the sake of improving Old Archades. Might we decide on a final vote?"

"Old Archades is full of rats," said Ilaro. "Its purpose is to house those that can't afford the living conditions of the inner city. If we renovate the alleys, it'll only chase the rats out further for the increased prices."

Larsa hesitated. A fair point. "Yet the prosperity of late has increased the flow of immigrants to the city and space grows in price. If we expand, then our economy benefits from motivated travelers."

Presented Fyln, "Should that not be left to the private businesses that take the risk of building where they might see a profit? Sorry to impose, Majesty, but perhaps it isn't a legislative matter to seek more ground."

"If not legislative," asked another, "then who's to say it'll ever happen? We oversee the upkeep of the finest sections of our city and I doubt Tsenoble would have risen in finery as it has without our interference."

Larsa lifted his chin. "Perhaps this is a matter for another time, then."

Some murmurs rippled through the party before most gave their reluctant agreement.

"Majesty." Fyln came to Larsa's side and leaned in. "If I could speak with you on the upcoming fete."

"You may." Larsa gestured to Carid, who addressed the senate with the issue of their emperor departing

Larsa took his scepter, turned, and left with Fyln, who hurried to keep up. "Have many have confirmed their attendance?"

Fyln nodded hastily and pulled out a paper. "Most of the list. Among others, Lord Maechen and Queen Ashelia have sworn to come. It appears you've made friends in them, Majesty. Their letters sounded quite fond."

"I look forward to seeing them. What of Rozarria?"

"Al-Cid has yet to respond, but what have we to gain from a man such as him?"

Larsa stilled himself to hide his surprise. "Not much for the empire, but for my own security."

"… I see."

"He wouldn't leave such an invitation ignored this long." Larsa paused in their walk and looked Fyln hard in the eye. "So, he has made the journey already. Where is he now?"

Fyln licked his lips and looked both ways before whispering, "Your office on the hundredth floor, Majesty."

Larsa dismissed the senator and made his way to his lesser-known meeting room.

After the long walk, he eventually opened his door to find the well-dressed silhouette of his friend hiding in the corner with a green-haired girl in the typical attire of one of his escorts. No one expected Larsa to use this office today, so the curtains were drawn closed.

"What warrants such discretion?" Larsa asked.

Al-Cid pulled himself to his full height. "Why should the secrecy make a difference, old friend?"

Larsa held his scepter steady and looked up at Al-Cid with his sternest expression. "One does not hide in the darkest corner of my palace without warning if he didn't have ulterior motives."

"Doesn't he?" Al-Cid reached out a hand, but Larsa caught it before he touched his hair. "Oh, fine."

Larsa huffed when Al-Cid pulled free and gestured for his friend to come over. The woman had mysterious features, notable even in the dim light, and she smelled of mist about her like the Viera.

"I found quite an intriguing beauty here." Al-Cid placed an arm around her shoulders. "Tempted as I am to join her on a trip through the cosmos, I suspected you might want to consider her offer."

The girl shook her head. "It isn't what you would imagine."

"She likes to pretend, this one." Al-Cid touched the girl's face and though she didn't cringe away, she also didn't lean into it. "I would like to know her secrets."

"They're not secrets." The girl looked up at him with teasing eyes. "I just know certain paths through certain places."

"Ah, but you won't tell me the truth. Perhaps one day you'll grant me such a luxury?"

"It would be much easier if you came with me."

"Alas, but I am bound to an unappeasable throne. What think you, Imperial Majesty? I know you suffer under the protection of your guard."

Larsa blinked. The sight of the two, so lax with each other, made him yearn for the old comfort of Vaan and Penelo's traveling company. "You speak of cosmic travel?"

The lady gave him a sly grin. "I do. Do you believe me?"

"I do." Larsa thought of Seven's stories. "But… I have duties."

"There's a certain beauty to this." Al-Cid released the lady and moved to the windows to let in some light. "She speaks of moving through the stream of time as well and you could return before anyone noticed you were missing. Quite a miracle, I think, given what you've said of your bodyguards in the past."

Larsa flushed. "Gabranth is wise to be so vigilant."

"Yet you remain unsatisfied." Al-Cid turned back to face him. "Alas. You know better than I how well you manage without some fresh air."

"I'm the emperor. I have responsibilities."

"Who am I to argue?" Al-Cid shook his head. "Rydia, I fear I may have wasted your time in coming."

"Wait." Larsa couldn't help a step forward and almost tripped on his hems. "I wouldn't offend – I sincerely appreciate your offer and I could never express my disappointment that I can't accept."

Al-Cid sighed and came his way again. "Be honest, Larsa. You do not need escape?"

"I do." Larsa swallowed his shame. "But the escape I need is no farther than the borders of my own city."

"Bound as birds in our gilded cages, are we." Al-Cid put a hand to his head. "I'll have to find you someone else, my lady."

Rydia tossed her hair. "It's not urgent. Yours is a lovely planet and I'd appreciate the chance to peruse the sights available."

"And peruse them you shall." Al-Cid looked to Larsa. "I plan to remain here in Archades until the fete. Should you need to call for me, your senator knows where to find me. I've worked out, shall we say, an arrangement with him despite the scoundrel's habit of bribing his fellows."

Larsa's mouth went dry. He wanted to take it back, but he knew better. "Thank you. And it's been a pleasure meeting you, Rydia."

"Likewise." She cast him an odd look before departing with Al-Cid.

Larsa was left standing in the dark. What did he just turn down?