First, Arden picked up his chocobo from the stables in La Noscea. Swift had spent much of his time in a huge pasture that was partly forest, amusing himself by scratching in the leaves like a chicken with other chocobos. He was glad to see Arden and said so, loudly, many times.

Z'mona had no chocobo of his own, but Swift was large enough to carry them both. When they returned to the Twelveswood, Swift examined Z'mona carefully before consenting to carry him.

"Small cat man," Swift remarked to Arden. "At first I thought he was man who beat me, but this not same cat."

"Of course not," said Arden. "He only wishes to ride a little ways. He was hurt and walking tires him."

"But you are healer," said Swift proudly. "I tell other birds, my rider heals, not hurts. They wish their riders the same."

Arden grinned and stroked the bird's neck. "Then let us ride together."

Z'mona watched this exchange, his green eyes wide. "You really do talk to animals," he said. "I thought Thancred was kidding me."

"It's the Echo," said Arden. "Here, give Swift these Gysahl greens and he'll like you better."

Swift crunched the greens and after that bore his riders willingly. They rode through the green wood on many paths and finally reached a watchtower near the northern border. Here the Woods Wailers kept an eye out for Ixali war balloons and invasion forces.

"An airship?" said the captain, scratching his head. "I was a little busy with the fall of the moon five years ago, but I do think an airship flew over at one point. It was headed north, towards Coerthas." He pointed toward a range of snowy mountains that loomed above the trees, bleak and frozen.

Arden had admired those mountains from a distance and always wondered what lay up there. "What is Coerthas like? Who lives there?"

"Aye, there lies the nation of Ishgard," said the captain. "Used to be a fair land until the Calamity changed the climate and buried it in snow. Ishgard has been at war with the dragons of Dravania for a thousand years, now. If you go up there, dress warm and watch for scalekin. The Ishgardians distrust outsiders and may be just as hostile."

Arden's heart sank. "Thank you, sir."

Z'mona had waited for him on Swift's back, holding the reins. As Arden swung into the saddle, the catboy asked, "We're going to Coerthas, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so," said Arden. "But first, let's return to Gridania. We'll need to purchase some cold weather clothing."

This was soon done. Arden went to the Twin Adder's secondhand shop and found them both stout pairs of pants, heavy boots, and warm fur coats. Then he called Alphinaud on the linkpearl.

"Our trail also leads to Coerthas," said the teen. "Cid had apparently wandered down through the Mor Dhona pass after losing his ship. We shall have to meet in Coerthas somewhere. The Observatorium, I suppose?"

"It's as good a place as any," said Arden, pretending he had any idea of the existence of an observatorium. "We shall depart soon."

"I have a few preparations to make," said Alphinaud. "Wait for us there."

Z'mona had shamelessly listened to all this, his sharp ears pricked. Now he said, "Do you know where this place is?"

"No idea," said Arden. "Let's buy a map."

The Twin Adders provided him with a map that showed Coerthas pre-Calamity. "But it's different now," the quartermaster warned. "Oh, the towns and landmarks are there. But the people of Ishgard were never a merry race, and five years of snow and ice has not improved them. Watch yourself, lads. It wouldn't do to be executed as a heretic."

"A heretic?" Arden exclaimed. "Perhaps you'd best warn me about their religion so I understand the pitfalls."

"Ishgard has no king," said the quartermaster. "They are governed by the Archbishop of the Holy See. They worship the war goddess Halone, the Fury. They believe their war against the dragons is holy and righteous, and if you sympathize with the dragons in any way, then you are a heretic to be destroyed."

"Oh, well then," said Arden, relaxing into a smile. "I have no loyalties to dragons."

The quartermaster gestured to his horns. "You'd best keep your horns and face covered. They will look at you and see a Dravanian. They've been particularly cruel to the Au Ra in the past."

Arden looked at his bundle of clothing, then added a long scarf and a large knit hat to his ensemble. "Z'mona, you may wind up talking to people for me."

"No horns or scales for me," said Z'mona cheerfully. "I don't care for dragons, either. Let's fling ourselves into danger once more!"

Arden would have liked a chance to rest, perhaps work on carpentry for a while in quiet and peace. But he couldn't let cocky, self-assured Alphinaud walk into an icy wilderness of hostile people, not when the Scions had been decimated. So he breathed a heavy sigh and set out with Z'mona at his heels.

It seemed to Arden that the road to Coerthas would never stop climbing. They climbed higher and higher among the hills, and the wind blew ever colder. Soon they were obliged to put on their warm clothing, and passed a chill night in a camp in a rocky hollow that blocked the wind. The next day they began seeing snow in patches of shade beneath the trees. These patches grew, until by the afternoon they had discovered a land locked forever in winter, with snow blanketing the landscape.

A set of cart tracks were the only road they had, so they followed those. Arden had to stop and pull on the chocobo booties he had brought along, which kept the bird's toes from freezing solid and dropping off.

Z'mona was horrified. As they rode on, he said, "I had no idea chocobos could lose their toes!"

"Frostbite is cruel to all," Arden said. "The map says that we aren't far from the Observatorium. I hope to stay there tonight. It's marked as having an inn."

"I'm hoping for a big mug of hot tea and a hearty supper," Z'mona said. "Also I intend to ask if they know anything about Garleans with prisoners."

"I hope they don't construe you as a heretic from that," Arden said.

They saw the high tower of the Observatorium with its mounted telescope long before they drew near it. The hills continued to climb above them, crowned with dark evergreens that seemed to breathe menace down upon them. Arden watched the landscape and wondered if any dragons were nearby, and if they attacked travelers. All seemed quiet enough, with the sleeping silence of winter.

The cart tracks led them to the gates of a town as night began to settle. The town was built around the foot of the Observatorium's tower, protected by a high wall with spikes on top. Multiple roofs sported harpoon launchers, angled skyward and hung with icicles. They had an ominous look.

The guards at the gate were a pair of tall Elezen who stopped them with crossed spears. "State your business, strangers!" one commanded.

Z'mona stepped forward boldly, despite being a fulm shorter than either guard. "We are associates of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. We seek information about an airship lost up this way during the Calamity."

The guards scrutinized him, then lifted a lantern to peer at Arden. He had tucked his hat over his horns and wore a scarf over his mouth to hide the scales on his chin. He must have passed inspection, however, for the guards stepped back and lifted aside their spears. "Proceed," said one. "The gates will be closing soon, so consider passing the night here. The roads are dangerous after dark."

"We'll definitely stay," Z'mona laughed. "We haven't had a hot meal in two days!"

The guard gestured up the street. "Biggest building, there. Outsiders aren't looked kindly upon up here."

"But their coin is," said the other guard, and they laughed.

Arden and Z'mona walked up the street, leading Swift, who paced behind them in a weary way. The town wasn't terribly large, only a few streets with rows of bleak stone buildings. They found the inn and Arden took Swift into the stable. To his surprise, there were other chocobos there, as well as a professional handler who chirped to Swift as a handler should. Feeling slightly better about leaving his bird behind, Arden sought the warmth of the inn with Z'mona at his heels.

The inn was a dingy, depressing place with a smoky fireplace and a smell of rancid grease. They ordered supper and were given hard black bread and watery soup that consisted mainly of onions. But it was hot, and they were indoors, so they didn't complain.

Arden had to pull down his scarf in order to eat, baring the scales on his chin. But there were only three people in the common room, all Elezen guards off duty, all hunched over the same bread and soup. Arden and Z'mona sat in a dark corner and hoped to avoid notice.

"Already Ishgard strikes me as a dismal place," Arden muttered.

"This isn't even a big city," Z'mona murmured in an undertone. "We'll never see Foundation, the capital. Outsiders aren't allowed in without a sponsor."

"Not sure I'd want to in the first place," Arden said. "Especially not with food like this."

They chewed through the rest of their meal in silence, soaking the bread in the soup to soften it. They took a room for the night with the sense that the innkeeper had doubled the fee, simply because they were outsiders. They found a small, dingy room with a single small bed that sported only one blanket. Arden had to light the fire himself, which warmed the room from freezing to merely chilly. Then they piled all their own blankets on the bed and climbed in, where they huddled together, shivering.

"Assuming our mission succeeds," Arden said, "and we find the airship, slay Garuda, rescue Minfilia, and achieve peace in Eorzea, what do you plan to do?"

"For a career?" said Z'mona. "Well, I …" He was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "You won't laugh?"

"Never," said Arden.

"I want to be a goldsmith," said Z'mona. "But not just that. I want to apprentice to Godbert Manderville himself. He runs the Gold Saucer, he's on the Ul'dah Syndicate, and they say he's the best goldsmith in the entire world."

"How, though?" Arden asked. "Surely a man like that has thousands of students clamoring for his time."

"He does take a few apprentices a year," said Z'mona. "But only those ranked top in the Goldsmith's Guild in Ul'dah. On top of that, you have to craft something really exceptional to catch his attention. One smith got in by crafting a perfect replica of the city out of precious metals. Another got in by building a mammet capable of wielding aether like a person."

"What would you create?" Arden asked, interested.

"I don't know." Z'mona sighed and folded his hands on his chest. "There was a smith in our tribe. She fixed everything metal, pots and pans, toys, horseshoes, everything. She made the most beautiful jewelry out of silver and opal. Travelers always bought some. I wanted to learn, but … well, I'm only a Tia."

"Why should that matter?" Arden asked. "You're a capable young man."

"There were too many men born to our tribe," Z'mona said with a low note of misery in his voice. "My half-brothers. There's a tribe hierarchy, you know. The Nunh's favorite sons of his favorite wives get to stay."

"Your mother wasn't a favorite?" Arden said.

Z'mona shrugged. "Oh, she was a trophy, being of the Moon people. But she never really fit in with the tribe's culture. When I was born and I took after her, the Nunh decided he preferred his other sons. They were apprenticed to the smith and I was passed over." He held up a fist. "So I will train as a smith and win the right to train under Godbert Manderville himself!"

"I'll help you all I can," said Arden. "I'm interested in carpentry, myself, but I've had precious little time for it lately."

"Yes, they've kept you running," Z'mona said. "I watched you dashing in and out of the Waking Sands and wondered how you did it all."

"By relying on my friends, mostly," Arden said. "I'm not the big hero they make me out to be."

"You're not as mean as I thought, either," Z'mona said with a yawn. "Good thing, too, or sharing a bed would be lots more unpleasant." He pulled the blankets up and rolled onto his side. "Goodnight."

Arden lay there and listened to his companion's whiffling snores. The more he got to know the catboy, the more he liked him. Like Arenvald, he'd started at a low place and clawed his way into a better life. If he wanted to be a smith after this adventure was over, then by Azim, Arden would help him get in. As one of the few remaining Scions, he had to look out for the smaller ones. They would need more help now, without Minfilia or the others.

Arden's eyes drifted closed. Soothed by his companion's breathing, he drifted off to sleep.

"What is your business at the First Dicasterial Observatorium of Aetherial and Astrological Phenomena?" a guard demanded.

"We wished to speak to someone about a missing airship," Arden said, trying to ignore Z'mona, who was mouthing the name of the place in disbelief.

"You might try the chief astrologian," said the Elezen guards, looking down his nose at them. "But I doubt he'll cooperate with outsiders. I will escort you."

As the guard opened the tower door, Z'mona whispered, "The FDOAAP!"

"Pardon?" Arden whispered.

"The First Dicasterial Observatorium of Aetherial and Astrological Phenomena," Z'mona repeated. "The FDOAAP!" He buried his face in his sleeve and giggled like a schoolboy.

Arden tried not to grin and kept his face straight. The guard shot them a disgusted look for not respecting the grandeur of the Observatorium's name, and led them up a spiral staircase.

The staircase looped around the inside of the tower three times before arriving at the first landing, and three more after that before reaching the top. Arden's legs burned. Z'mona had ceased laughing and slogged along behind, panting. Arden grew concerned for him and his newly-healed wounds.

The top floor of the tower was arranged like an office with desks, bookcases, and stacks of paper in boxes. A small fire burned in a brazier, warming the room, and several Elezen worked at the desks. The one with the fanciest fur coat strode forward to meet them.

The guard gave a crisp salute. "Chief astrologian Forlemort! These outsiders come bearing a petition."

"Do they, now?" said Forlemort, eyeing Arden and Z'mona. He gestured for Arden to remove his hat and scarf. "Let's have a look at you, then."

Arden reluctantly removed his hat and pulled down his scarf, revealing his horns and scales. The other astrologians looked at him, then quickly looked to Forlemort for his reaction. Forlemort's eyes narrowed. "We do not look kindly upon the Au Ra in these parts."

"I cannot help my race, sir," said Arden stiffly. "We come seeking information on an airship lost somewhere in Coerthas during the Calamity. We hoped that the keen eye of the Observatorium may have seen it and kept a record."

Forlemort snorted. "No, absolutely not. Do you know what it is you ask? Were our records to fall into the wrong hands, it could change the course of a war that has raged for generations! I will not put our nation at risk–to help a foreigner locate a missing airship, of all things!"

As he ranted at them, another Elezen in a official-looking robe emerged from the stairwell, carrying a sheet of paper. "Chief astrologian, I wondered if–" He halted and stared at the newcomers. "Pardon me, I didn't realize you had guests." His gaze lingered on Arden's black horns with a particular coldness.

"Inquisitor Guillaime!" Forlemort exclaimed. "You honor us with your presence. These gentlemen were just leaving."

"The missing airship, yes," Guillaime said thoughtfully. "You come to us at an inconvenient time, I fear. Much has changed in the last five years, and little for the better. While I wish you the best of luck in your search, I would strongly advise caution." He stepped closer to Arden and Z'mona, his eyes never leaving Arden's face. He had cold, gray eyes, and his hard face seemed to grow harder. As he spoke, his voice dropped to a threatening murmur. "The snows can come quickly in Coerthas. One moment you may feel as though you have a firm grasp on your surroundings, safe and secure in your knowledge, and the next you may find yourself in a wholly unfamiliar situation, blind to the dangers hidden by the blizzard. It would be wise for you to focus on a single landmark whilst traveling. Do not give in to temptation and deviate from your course."

Arden met those hard eyes and knew an enemy when he saw one. He bowed slightly. "I have no wish to meddle in Ishgardians affairs, sir. I only want to find the airship and depart."

"See that you do." The Inquisitor turned away, dismissing them. The guard that had brought them in gestured that they follow, and Arden and Z'mona followed him back down the endless stairs in silence. Arden pulled his hat and scarf back on with a slight shiver. While the other cities of Eorzea had treated an Au Ra with curiosity, in no place had he ever felt in fear for his life as he did in this snowy wilderness. His instinct was to quietly sneak away south again … but the Waking Sands had been ransacked, the Scions destroyed. He, Z'mona, and Alphinaud were all that remained, and they would have to face Garuda themselves unless Cid could remember how to help them.

The guard escorted them out of the Observatorium, but did not leave them in the snow. He guided them instead to a nearby building and opened the door. "The outsiders, sir."

A knight captain sat at a desk inside, but rose to his feet as they entered. "Ah, it's the dragon man and his cat," he said with a smirk. "You should have known better than to set foot in Coerthas. I encourage you to leave our lands before great harm befalls you. Now, where is my knight I sent on patrol? I would have him escort you to the border."

The knight on guard duty at his side replied, "He hasn't reported in yet, sir."

The knight captain frowned. "Then I shall ask you to leave on your own. Should you see my knight, tell him he is wanted. He would be wearing the insignia of House Durendaire, like mine." He indicated the embroidered patch on his jacket, a golden bell on a red field.

Arden and Z'mona didn't speak until they were well outside the gates of the Observatorium. Then Z'mona said, "I hope the dragons eat them all."

"They were certainly not a hospitable lot, were they?" Arden said. He groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Alphinaud and Cid have not even arrived yet, and we've already been driven out. Do we go honestly walk all the way back to the Twelveswood and admit defeat?"

Z'mona stood a moment in thought. "Let's stall," he said with a bright smile. "Let's hunt around for that missing knight. Then we can pop in and win some goodwill. By then Alphinaud may be working his diplomatic magic with the Inquisitor."

"I suppose," Arden said unwillingly. "I am uncomfortable with the way they stared at my horns."

"You did command their attention," Z'mona said. He scanned the snow around the gates. "Here's a set of tracks that depart and don't return. Let's follow them and see where our missing knight went. Probably behind a tree with a bottle, I shouldn't wonder."

As they tramped through the snow, following the tracks, Arden remarked, "Your lack of concern is heartwarming."

"Is it?" Z'mona said. "My mother always told me I was too flippant. I like your horns, dragon man, and apparently I'm your cat now."

"If I could break that captain's teeth, I would," Arden said pleasantly.

Z'mona ground one fist into his palm. "And I would take down that Inquisitor."

The tracks led them up a hill and into the forbidding trees. There another set of tracks converged with the first. The two pairs of tracks continued onward, far apart and with snow scattered about.

"A chase," Arden said, studying it as they walked. "The knight met someone. Who, I wonder?"

"A heretic?" Z'mona muttered. "But why would they be so close to the Observatorium?"

They tramped on, the crunching of their feet the only sound. The trail led them higher through the trees until they emerged under a bleak gray cliff hung with icicles. A dark figure lay in the snow against the cliff, the snow around him stained red.

Arden and Z'mona rushed to the figure. It was the knight, and he stirred as they reached him, one hand groping for his sword.

"Hold!" Z'mona exclaimed. "We are adventurers sent to find you!"

The knight blinked up at them through his helmet visor. "Heretics," he groaned. "Saw them in the trees. Chased them down, but it was an ambush."

Arden knelt and pulled out his healer's rod. "Lie still, sir, I'm a healer. Where are you hurt?"

The knight had been stabbed in the chest and side several times with a spear. Only his chain mail had saved him, but he was still cut badly and the mail had abraded his flesh. Arden gently plucked the mail out of the wounds and conjured healing magic from the sleeping earth. He didn't want to use his lilies without being able to see the wounds first. It would not do to fuse the man's flesh to his own clothing.

The knight closed his eyes and relaxed into the healing. Z'mona drew a knife and prowled around the area, making sure they would not be attacked again.

"Never thought … an Au Ra …" the knight murmured. "That's what you are, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so," said Arden gruffly.

"Never thought I'd owe your kind my life," the knight said. "I thought they were all dragon-touched."

"We have no relationship with dragons at all," Arden replied. "Our own lore states that we were created by the sun and moon, Azim and Nhaama."

"Sure they weren't dragons?" the knight said, cracking an eye.

"Positive," Arden replied. "Too many paintings depict them as the Auri people."

"That's something, I suppose." The knight struggled to sit up. "I think I can walk, now. I've got to get out of this blasted snow."

Arden helped the man to his feet. Z'mona returned, sheathing his knife. They took the knight's arms over his shoulders and helped him back over the trail they had just followed.

It was little over half a malm, yet it took until nearly noon to return to the Observatorium. The guards at the gate saw them coming and hastened to help bring in their fellow knight.

"Heretics on the ridge," the knight panted to them at once. "I disturbed them from where they were keeping watch."

"We'll report this at once," said a gate guard. He gestured at Arden and Z'mona. "Go tell Captain Ludovoix the knight is safe. We'll take him to the chirurgeions."

Arden and Z'mona went to the Captain's office, wearily triumphant and thinking about their noon meal. The knight captain Ludovoix eyed them with disdain until they told him that his knight had been ambushed by heretics.

"Well now," he said, leaning back in his chair. "That's a different matter." He sat for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought. "Perhaps you outsiders can be of some use after all. Go next door and present yourselves to Lord Portelaine. He might be willing to write letters of introduction for you to the other three High Houses of Ishgard." He picked up a sheet of paper and began to write his own missive. Arden and Z'mona exchanged a hopeful glance. Perhaps their mission here was not as vain as they had thought.

Ludovoix held the paper out. "There. Portelaine will speak to you now."

Arden took it with a bow. "Thank you, sir."

As they made their way to the stone building next door, Z'mona said, "I hope this goes well, because they're serving lunch in the inn." He pointed to a cloud of steam wafting from the inn's chimney.

"Whether yes or no, we'll grab a bite before we leave," Arden said. "Still no sign of Alphinaud or Cid."

"If they came up through the Mor Dhona pass, they might not get here for days," Z'mona pointed out.

Arden sighed at this thought and opened the door. Inside was a room with a comfortable fire, and a man in a fine robe and hat worked at a desk with a guard standing vigil beside him. They both looked up as the newcomers entered. "May I help you?" said Portelaine coldly.

Arden handed over the missive and explained about the missing airship and Ludovoix's missing knight. Portelaine listened to this and read the missive with one eyebrow raised. Then he looked Arden and Z'mona up and down.

"We don't see outsiders very often up here," Portelaine said. "Particularly not Au Ra." He stared at Arden's horns, which his cap could not quite conceal. "But I'm willing to make use of you. Yesterday a supply caravan should have arrived, but it did not. Now that you bring word of heretics in the area, I fear this is their work. Rather than risk my own men, I believe I will send you to investigate. After all, outsiders are expendable."

Arden's face warmed with anger. "All we wanted was information, not endless chores."

Portelaine stared at him. "No one is preventing you from leaving."

Before Arden could say something damaging, Z'mona stepped forward and said, "Whereabouts was this caravan? We came up the Gridania road and saw nothing."

"It was bound from the direction of Dragonhead Camp, north of here," Portelaine said. "It will likely snow tonight, which will wipe out all tracks, so make haste." He returned to his paperwork, silently dismissing them.

Arden and Z'mona left the building and went to the inn for lunch. There they received more black bread and onion soup, which they ate without much enjoyment.

"Maybe the missing caravan is why the menu is so limited," Z'mona suggested.

Arden nodded and chewed the last of his bread. "I suppose it's in our own best interest to investigate. Still, if the heretics raided it, you can be certain they carried off any food supplies first."

"We can only try," Z'mona said.

His cheerful spirits had a good influence on Arden. Arden's own inclinations to melancholy eased in the face of the cat boy's constant smile and unfailing optimism. Despite the unfriendly surroundings and the uninspiring food, Arden grinned at his companion. "If you're willing, then I'm willing."

Z'mona grinned back. "I love tramping through the snow in the middle of summer."