(A/N): I apologize for the belated update! My brain keeps drifting back to this story, this universe of canon... I'm obsessed with Claude, The Golden Deers, and Fire Emblem 3H at the moment, but Baralai will always be my absolute favorite character. If anything, Claude feels like a love child between him and Gippal. XD

Next chapter will feature Kurgum's POV! I'm pretty excited about it. :3

At the very least, I want to complete the FFX -Will- portion of my fanfic before I can dare to promise the whole package. Also, pardon my shameless and gratuitous dump of headcanon for Chuami's character. I just enjoy writing her so much. She's my problematic child. XD

Updated as of April 2nd, 2024.


Chapter 5

~A Father's Legacy~


After leaving the temple, Chuami and Kurgum were left to their own devices while Lady Yuna and Wakka disappeared inside the threshold of the mayor's homestead, seeking counsel for a decision that should not even need a third opinion. Chuami sighs, enduring the heat with nary a fidget or wipe of her forehead, glaring into the distance of lush verdantry and tuning out the annoying presence of boisterous kids at play.

Only Yevon knew what they were discussing in that musty old hut, and yet...

Obviously the High Summoner's erstwhile companion and his unknown affliction inspired more concern than Spira's problems.

Chuami scoffs. Priorities.

"Hey, Kurgum?"

He hums, sluggish, fanning himself with an ornate fan his teacher had handmade for him on his sixteenth birthday.

Her scowl deepens, punctuating her slow-rising anger. "I'm a little annoyed."

"But it looks like we can fulfill our duty." Kurgum smiles, brightening. "Besides, we get to talk to Lady Yuna a bit more. I always wanted her advice on how Summoners should live in a world without the Fayth."

Uh-oh. Fanboy alert. Chuami sighs, rolling her eyes.

"And you can ask about Master Auron―."

And then she slaps a hand over his mouth, interjecting her panic in a harsh whisper.

"Shh! If they find out I am his daughter, they'll all start kowtowing! That info is our doomsday weapon!"

"Auron's daughter?!"

Oops. So much for inside voices.

Chuami wrenches herself away from Kurgum, whipping around in direction of the voice. "Mayor?!" Lulu emerges from around the bend, slinking over to them in her heavy adornment of black leather belts that comprises the skirt portion of her dress. How does she not get hot in that get-up?

"Is that true?"

Now that somebody else knows, might as well own up to it. Chuami relaxes her shoulders, steadying her gaze. "...Yes, it is." Lulu's quiet chuckle sparks her consternation, and Chuami fumes, biting back her scowl with a vicious glare. "Did you just… Did you laugh?!"

She smiles, cutthroat, tucking her arms beneath her ample bosom. "Have you ever lived with him?"

"No, but I heard stories from my mother."

"Have you even met him?"

"I was too little to remember."

"Hmm…" Lulu does not sound convinced by her string of convenient excuses, scrutinizing her.

"You can't prove otherwise." Chuami exclaims, defensive. Although she did not expect anyone to believe her right away, for some reason this woman rubs her off the wrong way. Who does she think she is? Legendary Guardian or not, she holds no right to deny someone's truth.

"You don't look like him at all."

"I take after my mother."

"There were others that looked more like him."

"Huh?" Now that catches her off guard. Her jaw drops in livid confusion.

"Auron, Braska, Jecht… I've met many a swindler claiming to be their children, asking for their things."

"And you think I'm one of them." Chuami clenches her jaw, reining in her anger. 'Do I honestly look like the sort to stoop that low? The nerve of this woman!' She had more pride than that. After all, she would never lie about something that important, and her mother would never lie to her, especially about her dead father. "Are you calling my mother a liar?"

"I won't go that far…" She falters at that, perhaps in her sympathy of being a mother. "But if Auron did have children, there's no way you wouldn't remember him… and he wouldn't hide it from us. Auron isn't that kind of man."

Big breasts, bigger attitude.

Chuami seethes, crossing her arms, spurning any more opportunity for argument with a sharp pivot of her heel. Just because she knows Auron, she thinks she can say anything… At this point, this encounter only establishes the mayor as a hostile. 'Well, whatever. That's just fine. I'll deal with her eventually. She'll eat her own words someday.'

Kurgum switches his gaze between the two assertive women, conflicted on how to mediate the tension festering in the hot, humid air until finally Wakka and Yuna emerge from the former's home, striding over to stand before them. Yuna clasps her hands, her lukewarm gaze now burning with an obscured fire.

"We have decided… we wish to accompany you back to Bevelle."

That does not come as any surprise to her so much as her dissatisfaction does. Chuami averts her eyes, biting back the scowl. The unsettling feeling festers in the pit of her stomach and she huffs in hopes to dispel it, mindful of Lulu's pointed stare. "Okay, then. When do you want to leave?"

"As soon as possible. However… I know you two have just arrived after a long journey, so… You are welcome to rest here for the night. There are lodgings available for you in direction of the temple, just before the steps. We can depart in the morning."

'How considerate.' Chuami internalizes her sarcasm with small success. "Don't mind if we do."

She struts off before Kurgum can claim a word in edgewise, eager for a bath. Air travel for hours on end inside a stuffy machine can bring out the grunge and irritation in even the most mellow and idle. After conversing with some of the female locals and stopping off at the airship to fetch a pair of clean clothes and her hygienic essentials, Chuami heads for the watering hole, uncomfortable at the thought she must undress and bathe outside in the buff.

Bracing herself against the cold water, she shivers and gradually settles into place, annoyed by the abundance of coarse grain and sharp pebbles grinding into her bottom. Chuami keeps her bow and sheath of arrows close at hand, ready to shoot down any fiend or peeping tom that dares to harm her. Five minutes pass in tense silence, and then ten more, before she forces herself to unwind, eventually sinking into the water until half her face becomes submerged, amusing herself by blowing air bubbles.

'We did it… We actually did it. Tomorrow, we'll be returning to Bevelle alongside the High Summoner.' Doubt creeps into her moment of achievement, however, dampening her pride. 'Will this really solve anything? What can Lady Yuna do that Baralai already hasn't tried? There are no Fayth, no Summoners… How can she reassure the council with her current attitude?'

Chuami eyes an aqua skeeter across the water's surface, fascinated by its languid movement. Straightening herself, she starts working on her hair, soaking it through before lathering it in shampoo, calmed by the simple motions. She wishes she could do more than just rely on the authority of others to carry her own weight, but she lacks the experience. Noble blood plays a major part in it, too. Lady Yuna and Baralai belong in the highest echelons of society, their fame and reputation built in the history of the Church.

Its religion and house of worship may no longer exist, but its homegrown values still linger in the hearts of the Y generation, those marked by the last decade of Yevon's teachings. Chuami sighs, rinsing her hair completely. 'Maybe I ought to join the military, or apply as the Chancellor's bodyguard. I'm not cut out for politics…'

"...Chuami?"

"K-Kurgum?!" Chuami wades toward the bank, reaching for her bow. "Is that you? I'm warning you: no peeking!"

"I-I wasn't―!"

Yup, definitely him, stutter and all.

Awkward silence, and then his hesitant voice echoes somewhere behind the foliage of trees. "...do you want me to keep guard?"

"...Sure. Suit yourself."

She hears the rustle of disturbed underbrush, his feet snapping twigs and tree leaves, before the silence settles for lack of movement. Peering in the direction where she first heard his voice, she sees the peripheral sight of his back facing her as he sits cross-legged in front of a palm tree, his hands fidgeting on his brass prayer wheel.

What does he plan to protect her from? Coyotes and aqua flans? She snorts, amused by his chivalry and the mental image of him beating up fiends with holy incantations, and resumes her wash.

"...Chuami?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

"...yeah." Chuami eyes him, wary of his tone. "Why do you ask?"

"...mm, well, you stormed off, and, you know... I was worried about you. That's all."

"Well, sorry to disappoint. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Oh. Okay."

Awkward silence settles again for lack of better words and desire for conversation. Chuami knows full well Kurgum never wants to push the issue no matter the accuracy of his concern or the frequency of her loose temper, so she relents. "...Thanks anyway, but it's nothing, really. I'll feel better once we return to Bevelle. These mosquitoes are eating me up like a buffet."

Kurgum laughs, and she smiles, glad to feel the tension seep away. "Let's take turns. I'll stay guard while you bathe."

"Okay. But no peeking."

"As if you have anything to show."

"Chuami! Not nice."


She regrets not possessing the foresight to pack some bug repellent, because now she must fight a never-ending war against the all-consuming rage to scratch her itchy red arms raw. Kurgum applied a poultice for her bitten skin earlier, which soothes it somewhat, instructing her not to touch the affected area or else the bites will swell and bleed. Chuami rolls her eyes, embarrassed by the weight of his concern.

It's not like mosquitoes carry diseases or anything… Do they? She shudders to think about it.

Chuami walks forward to stand at the edge of the beach, mesmerized by the hypnotic flow of the waves, calmed by the oceanic view. She intended to give them privacy to say their goodbyes, yet her eyes strayed, arrested by curiosity. Wakka and Yuna make their way to the docks as Lulu slinks behind, the leading pair each carrying a knapsack and their weapon of choice on their person; a bladed blitzball for the Guardian and a regal staff for the High Summoner.

"Okay! We're good to go!" Wakka moves in for a hug and parting kiss, but at the simmering look of his scowling wife, he thinks better of it and clears his throat. "...uh, anyways. Goodbye, ya. We'll be back before you know it, Lu."

Lulu dismisses his farewell with a huff and steps closer to Yuna, placing a hand on her head. "Be sure to take care of yourself, you hear me? Conduct your business and then come right back. Don't overstay your welcome. Knowing them, the councilmen will take advantage of it."

"I know, Lulu. Thank you." The two women embrace, pulling away after a long moment. "I will miss you."

Lulu smiles. "I bet you miss him more. Go to him. He needs you."

Yuna nods with a smile that fails to reach her eyes.

Chuami rolls her eyes, averting her gaze. What's the worst a doddering old circle of councilmen can do? Badger her to death? She's got the power and authority of the High Summoner backing her up. Nobody could refuse her, let alone challenge her.

She strides into their grounded aircraft, expecting to suffer in frustrated silence for the next twelve hours. True to sour expectation, Kurgum does nothing else except grapple with his nerves for the entirety of the first hour while Yuna stares outside the porthole in deep thought. Wakka, the chatty one of the group, contented himself with keeping their skin-head pilot company, talking about blitzball and other boring stuff, before exchanging baby stories.

She sighs, cranky from hours of elusive sleep and jet lag, yearning for the warmth of her soft bed back in Bevelle. 'Ugh, I miss civilization. Are we there, yet...?' Soon enough, she dozes off to the echo of distant conversation, drooling on her arm that acts as a makeshift pillow.


They arrived in Luca by twilight only to discover a suspicious trail of smoke emanating from the back. The pilot resurfaced from the engine room ten minutes later after incessant swears and sharp thwacks of his ranch to inform them that some parts needed to be replaced, along with other engineering jargon Chuami could not fathom. When it looked like they faced no other option but to travel by foot, Yuna suggested the Mi'ihen Company hovercrafts piloted by freelancing Al Bhed.

She seemed to be in such a hurry, pushing to reach Rin's Travel Agency by nightfall, that Kurgum acquiesced, suggesting dinner before immediately hitting the road again. Chuami knew better, perceiving his lack of an appetite born from airsickness. Wakka sympathized with him, having never left Besaid since their pilgrimage three years ago. Yuna proceeded to shepherd everyone into a bistro shop, ordering half-sandwiches and soup cups, her favorite local recommendations.

After that, their royal entourage did not want to do anything. Neither of them seemed receptive to Kurgum's suggestions to watch a movie in the sphere theater or watch performers and musicians sweat for their buck in the electro-lit plaza. They simply wandered the streets, peering through shop windows like ghosts outside of the Farplane.

Being a Guardian must mean they vibe with their Summoner's energy, because Wakka expressed zero interest in watching playbacks of the last blitz season or mingling with his fans. Children playing blitz wall behind buildings or sphere break in alleyways would stop to swarm the celebrity athlete― once the captain of the Besaid Aurochs, now retired and a busy father― pleading for his autograph, and Chuami saw the perfect opportunity to slip away.

When one has seen and experienced the whole world over several times like those two, a two-time Guardian and a High Summoner/former sphere hunter, everything ceases to amaze you. Chuami pouts, disappointed. If Baralai were here, being his old sulky self, she would have given him a good couple of slaps to the back and flee, inciting a game of tag fueled by his initial anger. But these two are holy icons, not to be disrespected or manhandled.

Chuami wanders into a jewelry store at some point, bored out of her mind. Gold, silver, platinum, and diamond accessories are always nice to look at, but it only takes one glance at their price tags to kill her excitement. Working for the Council as one of their grunts pays well, but not that well. So she moves on to the men's collection of pocket watches and compasses, fascinated by their designs, conscious of the sales clerk shadowing her periphery.

Baralai likes this kind of stuff. Collecting pocket watches happens to be one of his hobbies, and she refuses to feed into that obsession. Compasses, on the other hand… What if his Chancellor duties require him to work outside the office, venturing into the field? In open world locations such as Mt. Gagazet and the Calm Lands, he would need one of these…

"Excuse me, may I look at that one?"

"Certainly, miss."

Receiving the compass with great care, she exhales in awe. It looks much more beautiful up close. Such a glossy black finish, and she loves the golden filigree as well... This will dent her wallet for sure, but at least her savings will come into play here. "I want to purchase this one."

"Of course. I'll go ahead and package it for you. Would you like a gift receipt?"

"Yes―"

"Who is it for?"

Chuami sputters, whipping her head to see Yuna by her side, mischief shining in her eyes. "A-A friend! Yes, just a friend."

"Oh. Okay." She does not sound convinced, but allows her this one mercy. "Do you cherish him?"

She blushes, busying herself with counting the gil. "Yeah, well, hard not to…"

"That's good." Yuna pauses to look away, her smile evaporating into thin air as she stares off into space. "Cherish him. Never let him go."

"Huh?" After emptying fifteen thousand gil from her drawstring bag, Chuami risks a glance, chilled by her grave tone. This brief glimpse of vulnerability feels intrusive. Unwelcome. 'What am I supposed to say to that? I didn't ask for your opinion.'

Her words felt like such a private sentiment for someone like the regal High Summoner that she felt compelled to comfort her over some past secret hurt she accidentally stumbled upon. It reminds her of the way adults used to speak with her at school, manipulating her to feel sorry for others as if happiness itself were a sin. She does not like that.

Chuami straightens, pocketing her wallet. "...but what if that's not what he wants?"

She can sense her surprise and disbelief in the intensity of her gaze, and knows that she wants to argue, yet Chuami does not care. She did not embark on this quest as a guise to a grand search for a philosophical truth, and she especially does not want some lovelorn holy woman to dump wise and ambiguous love advice on her. She wants to experience the pain and joy for herself, not on the backseat of someone else's life story.

"It's not all about my feelings, you know. His feelings are important to me, too." Sensing the presence of her patronizing tone in her halted tongue, Chuami refuses to allow her the chance to speak, choosing to meet her gaze headlong. Stunned anger burns in her heterochromatic eyes, expressing her silent defiance, and Chuami withholds the smirk, delighted by the fact she provoked a reaction out of her.

"Ah. Here's your present…" The lady behind the counter looks reluctant to interrupt, starstruck by the presence of the High Summoner in her shop, if not intimidated by the mood of their conversation.

"Thank you." Chuami snatches the box from her hands and throws her a stiff smile, before stalking out the door. Securing her purchase in her handbag, she falls into a light jog, eager to dispel the weird energy twisting her stomach.

The moment the northern stairway comes into view, Chuami breaks out into a joyous sprint, submitting to the childish impulse. Higher and higher she climbs the steps without pause for breath, delighting in the push of her heels pounding the stone despite the growing ache in her thighs. Upon reaching the top, she takes a sharp turn around the corner and grips the rail in order to propel herself forward, persisting down the street, beset by a familiar memory― of racing against Baralai down this very street three years ago, reminiscent of their countless games together in the boulevards of Bevelle.

He won every race since their childhood, either by playing dirty or surpassing her in speed and stamina, and he won every time― except that one day, here, at this very balcony. She slaps her hands over the rail and howls in victory, sweaty and breathless. In her memory, she beat him three seconds sooner, reveling in her rare victory as she gasped for breath, just like she does now. Straightening in place, she sighs, wistful.

Chuami can picture him clearer than any visiosphere, a grown man forced into boy clothes tailored by his doting mother. His short-sleeved tunic, high waisted shorts, and leather sandals made him blend among the southern populace so well that you would've never guessed he came from the wintry Wisterian continent. His refusal to forgo his typical overcoat won the argument, however, and the embroidered tail ends of his yukata billowed behind him as he sprinted to catch up.

"You win! I can't…" Baralai paused to keel over his knees, sucking in breath. After a long moment, he straightened to smile at her, impressed by her victory. "You've gotten faster. Who would have thought?"

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "...That was too easy. You let me win, didn't you?"

"Not at all. You won fair and square."

"I don't believe you."

He laughed, leaning forward to fold his arms over the rail, peering out into the ocean.

Concerned by his sudden quiet, Chuami mimicked his pose, bumping elbows with him as an excuse to feel closer. She wanted to understand him, yet she never knew what to say or do. He felt so far away, especially in the realm of his own thoughts. She worried, always.

" ...hard to believe it's finally over now." Chuami smiled in hopes to break the ice. "Can you imagine? Sailors won't have to feel fear at the thought of venturing out into the sea anymore. Summoners won't have to train for death. It's a free world. just like you dreamed."

"Me? That dream wasn't exclusive to me alone, you know."

"Yeah, but… you're the only one who believed it might happen in our lifetime. I gave up a long time ago."

"Well… I wasn't the one who brought it about. You should be thanking High Summoner Yuna for that one."

"...but still. You believed, and not in that blind-faith sort of way."

"You give me too much credit." Baralai deflected enough of her words to finally acquiesce with a rueful smile. "But thank you anyway. I'm still trying to process it all. Now I'm not quite sure what I want to do with myself. I feel so… lost, like I am robbed of purpose."

"Then find another one. There's no end to the possibilities. You can be anything you want. You can even―" Chuami clamped her mouth shut, mortified by the direction of her own thoughts.

'Fall in love without the fear of death,' she almost blurted out, afraid to vindicate herself, afraid to face his reaction. Why would he want to think about that? He would never consider her, a girl― He's an adult with a whole life ahead of him now. With no church and no army to return to, freed from his obligations, he can start a new life. Yet knowing full well his sense of duty, he would probably delve back into the ruins of Yevon and help rebuild the shattered government.

A path she harbored no love for.

"'I can even'… what?" He inquired, curious.

"Nothing. Figure it out for yourself." She scowled.

"Be that way, then." He smiled, amused by her stubborn reply.

She rocked back on her heels, using the rail as her anchor, before pulling herself upright, climbing on top of the rail to challenge her sense of balance, if not to dispel her sudden feelings of anxiety. "Bet you can't do this!"

"Careful!" He lunged forward in an instant to catch her around the waist, wrenching her off the perilous edge. "You're going to fall!"

"I'm not going to fall, dummy!" She exclaimed in glee as her feet touched the ground. Encircling her skinny arms around his shoulders, Chuami flashed him a wide grin. "Because I always have you to catch me."

He scowled, pinching her cheeks into an oblong smile. "You cheeky little―."

What point had she been trying to make then? It eludes her to this day, but she still remembers the feeling (and the stinging pain in her baby fat cheeks). She prefers the boy she grew up with, not the priest or the soldier, or even the politician, but the carefree, mischievous youth who always loved to tease her. She cannot recall how or when it started, but somewhere down the line, Baralai became obsessed with the idea of justice, consumed by this deep-seated desire to make a difference in the world, as if afraid to die young before he could achieve anything.

Or maybe he always felt that way, and she never noticed until their adolescent years. Baralai already had an ego built on self-entitlement. His patriotic identity only fueled that fire in him. She wants to carve out a place by his side, but his status as COTSC intimidates her. If ever given the chance… Can she honestly picture herself in that kind of environment? Support his political agenda no matter the issue, against her own personal feelings? Or will his administration crush her beneath the weight of their expectations?

The thought of being with him frightens her, more so than the possibility of rejection.

Feeling someone's eyes on her, Chuami turns around in preparation to deflect Kurgum's concern only to stop. Lady Yuna stands before the bottom steps exiting Luca, looking listless and upset. Their eyes connect for a split second, and then she pivots on her heel, climbing the steps to Mi'ihen Highroad, Wakka on her heels. Kurgum stands off to the side, a silent witness to the awkward air, smiling despite it all, his hands fidgeting on his prayer wheel.

Chuami grits her teeth, disconcerted by her intensity, the memory of her anguished words dampening her mood.

"Cherish him. Never let him go." Even if she knows better, being older and more experienced―

'She doesn't know me.'


Chuami sits by herself at the lobby, snacking on a complimentary peppermint while leafing through the pages of her logbook, reviewing the pages that dictate the past couple of days. Stopping off at the Travel Agency in Mi'ihen Highroad by the stroke of midnight, they all came to an unspoken agreement to rest here in the comfort of hot food and soft bedding before heading out again in the morning.

She really does not look forward to traversing the long, craggy cliff faces of the Mushroom Rock Road on foot, or fighting off the basilisks and iron giants that prowl the path. But whether or not they will take a hovercraft again to cross the remaining stretch of Highroad, she doubts Kurgum can handle another rough, bumpy ride on the machine transport for another six straight hours. He retreated to his room as soon as they arrived, desperate to lie down for a nap. Maybe they ought to rent chocobos… It will definitely take longer, two full days at best, perhaps midway through the third day, but at least his sensitive stomach will rest easy.

Chuami giggles, amused by the memory of Kurgum puking his guts out on the side of the Mi'ihen road. But she can't write something like that in her report; she must exude a professional air. Recording details such as her partner's delicate constitution can hardly constitute as relevant to their mission objective. Now that she stops to think about it... she does not have to write a report. Baralai never instructed her to, so she might as well treat this mission as running an errand. But still, in case he does ask for one, she wants to be prepared to surprise him.

"Didn't take you for the studious type." Wakka pipes up from his spot beside the wall, amused, leaning against a shoddy bookcase full of select obscure literature. She forgot those two had taken to milling about the foyer in idle boredom until Yuna seated herself at the other table with a cup of hot tea in hand while her meathead of a Guardian kept a vigilant eye on her.

He smiles, tilting his head at the book in front of her. "So, you really do believe in the Council's manifesto."

Chuami glares, miffed by his remark. Sitting straighter on her stool, she turns to face them with a cross of her legs. "We don't travel around Spira for the flophouse treatment, you know. Wherever the Chancellor assigns us, we go there without question. We assess the situation before returning to Bevelle with our findings and the Council chews over it, hoping to create a better infrastructure for Spira. It may not look like it to backwater hicks like you, but we are fighting this Beckoning epidemic everyday."

"Hey! Who'd you think you're talking to?"

"Wakka." Yuna holds her hand up to pacify him, looking back to Chuami when certain Wakka will not cause a scene, regarding the girl before her with a prim smile. Chuami came to hate that look quickly, creeped out by her serenity. "I can understand why Kurgum joined the Council, so I would like to ask you… Is the Chancellor someone you would entrust with your life? Do you believe in the future he's leading Spira towards?"

"Of course. I'd follow him to the ends of the earth if I had to." She exclaims without missing a beat, irritated by her tone. "Before you, he was that icon of Yevon, wanting to rebuild the world in the ashes of the past. I couldn't understand why he even bothered to try, because if you ask me, the past is better left buried in the past. And when weird things started happening in the world, Baralai had been the first to do something about it. He threw away the Yevon moniker, started the initiative to form a republic, and eventually submitted the proposal to create an elite corps of Senders, so ex-Summoners wouldn't feel obligated to return to their calling. He's been at the front lines ever since this whole thing started, six months ago.

"That's why it annoys me. You two are so different…" Chuami trails off, aware of Wakka's pointed glare, but more so wary of Yuna's calm, inquisitive look, spying the cracks in her poker face, the anxiety brewing in her heterochromic eyes.

That oaf warned her to 'be kinder, be bigger,' because her words would only hurt people like her― fragile, sensitive souls who act like ghosts of their old selves. They might as well be worse off than the beckoned, unable to change, unable to look forward or do anything on their own despite the fact they are still alive.

Chuami grits her teeth. "Never mind."

And then she shoots to her feet, kicking the stool in her brisk departure.

She bumps into Kurgum on her way to her room, causing him to yelp in surprise. Kurgum gulps, startled by her withering glare, and before he can react, she storms off down the hall, slamming the door shut behind her. Emerging into the lounge area, Kurgum finds them engaged in heated conversation― or more like Yuna listening to the man spew his vocal complaint, and he sighs.

When they notice his approach, Wakka does not even bother to hide his disdain.

"That girl's got quite a mouth on her." He grouses, crossing his arms. "Can't you do a better job of keeping her in line?"

Kurgum smiles as his way of apology. "She's always been like that. The only person she's ever listened to is Chancellor Baralai and… her mother." In a moment of silence, he drops his gaze downcast, wringing his hands. "I know she can be difficult at times, but please… try to understand her feelings. The only reason why she criticizes the Yevoners is because she lost someone important to her, and she blames them for it."

"I see," Yuna says, for a lack of better things to say. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Kurgum nods. "It's not your fault. It's nobody's fault, really... Only the Yevoner hunters who killed her mother."

In the dark walls of her room, a girl falls asleep to the damp warmth of her tear-stained pillow.