Original Ao3 chapter summary:

A new year starts and I immediately get sick! Woo! But I did have it in me to put this together. Just some short snippets from Joker doing the class / job quests. Mostly Rogue this time, because of course!

These are very wide-ranging in the timeline, but they're all sequential at least!

Gladiator:

Joker's shoulder struck the hardwood floor. He sucked in a hiss of pain as he resisted the urge to grab at it, forcing his other hand to remain tightly clutched around the haft of his training sword.

"Very good." Mylla nodded at him from above, "I'd say you've developed a solid grasp of the fundamentals."

Joker blew a strand of hair that had fallen into his eyes out of the way, trying not to seem outwardly despondent. Whatever the master of the Gladiator's guild might say, he didn't feel particularly accomplished. He'd managed to fend off several of her blows, certainly, but in the end she'd still sent him landing flat on his ass.

He knew there'd be differences, obviously. But fighting with a sword was still so much more cumbersome than a knife. The stark difference in weight– even with a sword composed mostly of wood– was really throwing him off, and he felt as if he couldn't keep his footing as balanced as he should be.

Mylla, however, seemed quite pleased with his development over the course of their intensive sparring sessions. She leaned over him, offering a hand for him to take. He gripped her armored hand tight and allowed her to pull him to his feet, "Now – let us repeat that five more times."

Joker blinked. "Five?" He croaked, voice coming far weaker then he intended.

"Five before noon." She nodded, "Then another dozen after lunch."

Joker looked down at his bruised and swelling knees and tried not to whine.

Thaumaturge:

Joker scowled. He attempted to level a glare at the figure before him, but there simply wasn't much heat in it. After all, it was rather hard for one to stir up much animosity towards a training dummy with a head composed solely of a loosely tied hessian sack.

He breathed out, trying not to feel unnerved at the four pairs of eyes (plus one singular) all looking up at him expectantly, their vibrant red irises radiating an excited low-key malevolence.

Cocabaha stepped out a little from his brothers, raising a hand.

"I know! Pretend it insulted your mother! Or your father, if that doesn't work. Or a beloved childhood pet, if you have an untenable relationship with your parents!"

Joker nodded, readjusting his glower at the dummy. He imagined the sagging head in possession of the infuriatingly smug grin of Haru's former arranged-fiancé, leg poised to kick at a hissing Morgana.

"Leave my cat alone, you asshole!"

The air around him buzzed. His head throbbed and his hand tingled. And from his fingertips did a blossom of flame spark to life. It cracked through the air, catching upon the sackcloth and setting it alight.

A great cheer rose up from the Lalafell brothers, faces gleeful in the flickering firelight as the imitation man slowly burned down to a blackened stub.

Cocobuki closed his singular eye. He nodded approvingly, arms crossed.

"A cat. Good choice for an aspiring practitioner of the dark arts. Black fur?"

Joker straightened himself, feeling proud, "With white tips, yes."

"Close enough. You've made tremendous progress today, mister Joker. Welcome to the Guild."

Joker felt a pair of eyes bore intensely on his back. He glanced over his shoulder, spying what seemed to be another Lalafell with eyes the same shade of red swiftly turning his head away. He vanished from the doorway before any of those gathered in the training hall could comment, leaving the brothers to look among one another in pensive distress.

Pugilist:

"Master Hamon, I understand you're eager to… jump back into action." Chuchuto murmured from the sidelines, face tense as she looked over the bronzed and wrinkled skin of her mentor and father-figure, "But isn't this perhaps a bit extreme?"

"Nonsense! A bout with my newest rising pupil is the quickest way to burn the feeling back into my muscle," Guildmaster Hamon declared, rolling his shoulders, "Now — come at me with all you've got, boy!"

The old man was poised in the center of the training ring, arms spread wide and exposing his bare, still tautly muscled chest, having tossed his shirt off in a bold display of energy.

Joker hesitated, flexing the leather of his gloves nervously. He spared a questioning glance at Chuchuto, who merely gave a weary shrug.

"If you're sure…" Joker muttered, pulling his arm back.

And proceeded to clock the elderly Hyur in the face with a practiced haymaker, distending the cheek under his fist and sending him sprawling onto the ground.

Chuchuto winced, her hands hovering at her face as she seemed to debate whether or not to cover her eyes.

There was a beat of silence as Hamon Holyfist simply lay on the floor. Joker hovered nervously, fingers twitching and wondering whether he should employ his recent Conjury training.

And then there was a gasp. Hamon's eyes flew open, before he sprung suddenly to his feet. He cracked his neck, grinning.

"Woof! Now that's one way to clear your sinuses! Hit me again, lad, come on! Try the other cheek!"

Hamon gestured to the side of his face that wasn't swelling into a reddened lump with a cocky jab of his thumb, bouncing on his heels like a man less than half his age.

Joker pulled his fists back up, shifting his footing with a wry smirk. He certainly couldn't fault the man his enthusiasm.

Warrior:

He didn't think this would be what was driving him to have this thought, but Joker had to admit it — he missed Kawakami.

"Is this really part of my training?" Joker asked, fingers numb and eyes long glazed over. He couldn't feel anything from his hands anymore. Not the slick, sticky coating of Salamander oil at his fingertips, nor the layers of toughened, toned flesh beneath them. Eorzean gods help him, he had been at this for almost an hour.

Curious Gorge looked up at him from over his bare, rippling shoulder, muscles shining in the coastal sunlight with the sheen of freshly applied oil.

"Absolutely, lad!" He roared, chest pressed into a blanket spread across the sand of Costa del Sol, "This very massage technique was sworn by the mightiest, strongest man I've ever had the fortune to lay eyes upon. Godly figure. Could swing a hammer like nothing I'd ever seen before! Now look alive — I mean to roll over for another layer on my biceps!"

Joker nodded limply with the weary resignation of one far, far too exhausted to argue. Was every ex-member of the Company of Heroes just… like this?

Rogue:

"So!" The man calling himself Captain Jacke raised a hand in a lazy greeting, ale sloshing in a mug held in the other and his feet crossed over the table. Across the dimly lit room, a Miqo'te woman with ginger hair glowered at his scuffed boots, "Th' realm's very own Warrior o' Light is an old 'and with a stabber — and then some, if I've 'eard right… Can't say as I was 'xpectin' to learn that. If word on the street is true, then ye's a mettlesome cove, and one I'd like to 'ave a gab wit'."

"Feet off where people eat, Jacke." The Miqo'te grumbled, waving a hand at him. He complied with the air of someone being asked to walk across hot coals.

"No-one's yafflin' a bite right this very mo', now are they?" He grumbled, setting his mug aside, "'Nyway, my point is that we're a lot o' cutters what dabble in the more shadowy services to the good Admiral, and we're always in need of a few more able fambles and even loyaler dimber dambers. Sayin' as such, we'd be most grateful if ye were to lend yer daddles to this motley crew 'ere. If yer catchin' me drift?"

Joker stared uncomprehendingly, feeling himself start to sweat. It had finally happened. He'd finally broken his Echo for real. And he'd only had it for just under four months…

He didn't know what to expect when he'd been asked by a sly figure in a green bandana to meet with the good Captain at the convent of the 'Dutiful Sister's of the Edelweiss', but it certainly hadn't been to stumble into a literal den of thieves.

Jacke threw himself from his chair, pressing his face in close to Joker's. Looked him up and down, nodding with slow approval.

"Indeed, indeed. Daddles an' all. Mask to boot. Can see it in yer bearin' – yer a right ol' rook for sure." He clapped his hands together, grinning broadly, "Bene!"

There came a cough from behind him. Joker turned to the tanned Lalafell that had drifted soundlessly up to his side.

"Sorry, what the Cap'n' here is tryin' to say is that we're a society what keeps order among the… less-reformed pirates of Limsa Lominsa, in the wake o' Merlwyb's new policies." He put a proud hand to his chest, fingers wrapped in bandages, "Simply put, they'd all end up killin' each other if there was nobody to lay down a few rules─ an unspoken code o' conduct, as it were. An' we of the Upright Thieves — that is, the Rogue's Guild — keep the lot of 'em in check when more official peacekeepers like the Yellowjackets can't quite get the job done."

"Aye, aye." Jacke nodded, snapping his fingers, "Well said, Underfoot. We go where the shadows are darkest, an' hand out justice to them as break the code. Some rum-soaked cove steals goods from the wrong cull, an' we steal 'em back. That's the job, my natty lad."

Ah! A gang of righteous thieves. His people.

Jacke brightened at Joker's visible delight.

"If I'm peepin' ye right, then that's the look o' a cove what's ready to wet 'is beak an' bite the blow! An' if yer needin' a rum bite in exchange, then we'll teach ye all we know about stabbin' an' cloyin' the Lominsan way." The smirking captain extended a gloved hand, raising an eyebrow, "Sound like a bob deal? We'd be right glad t' 'ave ye aboard, 'Joker'... If yer willin'?"

Oh, absolutely…

Joker nodded, reaching out to take the man's hand with a sharp grin.

"Wha— you… you thief!" The shady Lalafell merchant cried in despair as he looked into the empty crate at the end of the pier, now completely bereft of stolen muskets.

Joker crossed his arms over his chest, flashing possibly the smuggest grin he'd ever given in his life. Hehe.

Ah, it was worth it, even if the fuming black market dealer had sent a horde of men to try to take his head moments afterwards. He cradled the re-pilfered muskets in his arms with the look of a downtrodden child. Such a shame he'd have to return these beautiful things to the Yellowjackets…

V'kebbe, the ginger-haired Miqo'te who was quite literally showing him the ropes as they scouted the harbor, slapped a consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Ye don' wanna work with those things in this profession anyway. Loud as the hells' bells!"

"I could make it work…" Joker whined as he sadly deposited his loot into a sack V'kebbe offered him.

"Hmmm, might be that ye could." V'kebbe hummed, "Y'know, yer not bad at all for a colt."

"...That might just be the swiftest string-up I've ever seen." Perimu whistled, craning his head back.

"A punishment to fit the crime." V'kebbe crossed her arms over her chest, chin jutting pointedly to the man dangling pitifully above them, "Take a good, long look, Joker. Jacke cloyed somethin' what belonged to me, and by the code I had t' seek restitution. The code exists to preserve peace in Limsa─ to keep the alleys from runnin' red with blood. This city's me home, an' I'll draw daggers on any cove fool enough to threaten that peace."

"Noted." Joker said, nodding very seriously.

Above them swung Captain Jacke, hog-tied upside-down to one of the thick cables anchoring the harbor drawbridge. The man wriggled pitifully, a whine escaping from his lips.

Perimu dusted his hands, "A pointed lesson. Let's head inside, eh? Our new finger sandwiches'll get cold."

And Joker gave a little pump of his fist, "I'm actually really excited to try it. See if the Bismark's stuff's really as great as people say."

"I assure ye, it's the stuff o' dreams!"

"That good, huh? Maybe I can learn to cook them up myself…"

"Bene! That would jus' be beautiful!"

And the three of them trailed back into the hideout, chatting merrily.

"Hey! Do ye mean to leave me here all night?! At least ye gave me a grand view o' the harbor! ...Gods' piss, these ropes are tight."

They lurked in the shadows of Aleport, backs pressed against the stone walls. The four slipped through the hidden pirate compound with ease, eyes set on the hefty iron lock that sealed both a wealth of plundered items and, much more pressingly, people behind a solid door.

Perimu and V'kebbe kept a look out while Jacke gestured ahead of them, a challenging lift to his eyebrow.

"Right then, Joker. 'Ave at 'er."

Eyes bright, Joker crept down low, a freshly cobbled-together makeshift lockpick slipped into his palm from under his sleeve. With a few practiced twists and gentle rattles, the lock soon gave way with a satisfying click.

Joker drew back, smirking.

Jacke beamed.

"Well, string me up again an' call me Sally! Yer not just a dab hand, yer a certified rum dubber!"

"...What?"

Perimu leaned in, a small hand cupped to his mouth, "The Cap'n's real impressed and recognizes ye as a fellow high-skilled professional o' pilferin'."

"Oh. Well, good."

They'd swiftly set about putting their respective lockpicking skills to use once more, undoing the iron shackles and setting the hostages free. Once they'd herded the shaking villagers to the town gates, they were met by Lalafell in a signature bright yellow bliaud, starkly visible even in the dead of night.

She put her hands on her hips, mustering as much authority as her small stature would allow.

"I am Captain Milala of the Yellowjackets. Maelstrom Command has entrusted me with conducting the hostages to safety."

She nodded to her subordinates in matching garb, watching with keen eyes as they led the quaking prisoners away to their base.

Jacke shrugged good-naturedly as the Lalafell kept her hard gaze fixed on him even when the last of the captives had been seen to, "Was there aught else, Captain?" He asked with forced joviality. The weight of a history between the two thickened the air with tension., both respective leaders staring each other down with stiff backs, "Word on a new job, maybe?"

Milala looked visibly affronted at the very idea, "A job from me? ...For you? How patently absurd! Why, I'd rather hire a sewer rat to mind my larder!"

She crossed her arms, scoffing, "Your 'job' just now almost turned Aleport into a slaughterhouse! What dark age is this that we must employ assassins to enforce the law?! It is this continued dalliance with underworld miscreants such as you that prevents Limsa Lominsa from ever fully expunging the stain of piratical infection!"

V'kebbe narrowed her eyes at that, a dangerous glint to her slitted pupils. Jacke waved her down, keeping a casual grin fixed on his face.

"'Spose that's what those shiny new weapons o' yers are about then, eh?"

"Indeed!" Milala exclaimed, reaching to her hip, "Much superior to your antiquated slaughterer's tools. Our fair city has no place for those who refuse to abandon the brutish ways of the past…"

And with that did she proudly raise a Lalafell-sized musket in her small hand. The low light of the lantern glinted beautifully off of the polished muzzle.

"No fair." Joker mumbled under his breath. He wanted one. He wanted one so bad…

Milala nodded at his envious external commentary, "The only champions of justice this nation requires are the valiant and forthright soldiers of the Yellowjackets, and their modern methods!"

"Why not both?" Joker asked, raising a hand. A knife in one hand and a gun in the other had worked wonders for him in the Metaverse.

Neither side looked particularly happy with him for that remark.

Milala marched on ahead, undaunted, "I've not come here to be patronized─ I've come to put a decisive end to piracy in all its forms!" She angled the barrel of her pistol squarely at Jacke's chest, a cocky tilt to her hip, "Heed well my words, thieves. Just before dawn this very morn, a Maelstrom vessel stocked with provisions was boarded and looted by pirates. And the theft of three items in particular— three unique treasures of nigh-incalculable worth— most distresses my martial colleagues."

Jacke kept his stance relaxed and loose, as if completely ignorant to the deadly weapon pointed directly at his heart, "A rum tale." He drawled, "What's it to do with us?"

"Why, consider this visit a gauntlet thrown at the collective feet of the Rogues' Guild! Should my Yellowjackets and I succeed in retrieving the greater share of the missing loot, I shall formally propose the abolition of the your association. Upon review of our achievements, the Admiral will surely concede that your unscrupulous institution has outlived its usefulness."

And now it was Jacke's turn to scoff, "Ah, blow it out yer wattle. I've better ways to spend me time."

"Oh, do you now?" Milala's smirk turned sly, "This incident constitutes a theft against the nation of Limsa Lominsa. Does that not violate your beloved 'code'? If I'm not mistaken, you've no choice but to rise to the occasion… Unless of course, you mean to slink back into your hole and abandon the fundamental precepts of your 'duty'?"

"All right, all right, ye screechin' shrew— ye've made yer bloody point." Jacke hissed, facade of indifference dropping, "An' ye'll be sorry that ye did, I promise ye that."

The Lalafell looked delighted. Her smug grin widened even further, "Your paltry promises amount to naught in the face of my conviction. I shall not rest until Limsa Lominsa is free of every last buccaneer, scoundrel, and shadow-dwelling ne'er-do-well!"

And with that did she stomp away, the remaining men at her command leaving with her.

Joker bristled with a mounting excitement. A challenge, was it? Well, let it not be said that he was the kind to back down when his pride was on the line.

Evidently, his fellow Rogues were of a like mind. With Milala's loud departure they drew together, fingers itching for action.

"Now I don't take kindly to culls pullin' me strings, but the shrew is right. The code's been broken an' that means we've a job to do."

The three stolen treasures had soon been identified through the Rogue's information network. The "Cerulean Star" — an enormous blue diamond of very substantial worth, the "Silver Sorrows"— a pair of earrings that once belonged to the former reigning Sultana, and something known only as the "Black Sarcophagus" that still remained a mystery no matter how creative Perimu had gotten in trying to 'prompt' the information out of their new quaking friend from the black market.

Acquiring the diamond had been a simple enough venture. With Joker at their side, the three senior members had made short work of locating two of the three missing treasures, leading to an assault on the foolish gang calling themselves the 'Grinning Curs'.

Unfortunately, in the chaos it was Milala and her subordinates that had made off triumphantly with the earrings— a fact that the preening captain made certain to let them know. She'd soon taken to keeping the Silver Sorrows close to her person at all times. Ostensibly for protection, though they did certainly seem to be flashing rather smugly from her ears at their next meeting.

Which merely left the third pilfered good as their ultimate tie-breaker.

"The hells take that canary-colored harpy." Jacke had grumbled, fidgeting with his knife as they crowded around a table at the Dutiful Sisters, "And as far as her damn contest goes, I s'pose that makes us even. It'll be the last treasure —this 'Black Sarcophagus' — that decides the victor."

But it would turn out that the sarcophagus in question was no 'dimber bauble', as Jacke would put it, but rather a Mark LI Magitek mine.

"A bleedin' prototype explosive what was bitten from an imperial transport vessel!" Perimu had delivered the news to their gathering, eyes wide and out of breath,"They say the blast'd have enough kick to incinerate a bloody Behemoth. Seems the Garleans meant to start production at their factory in La Noscea, then distribute the mines through Castrum Marinium. Lucky some plucky privateer cloyed the prototype en route, then, eh?"

But since its initial swiping, the deadly explosive had come to fall into the hands of a group known as the Reformists — pirates of Limsa Lominsa's 'golden age' that were determined to turn back the clock. And their target was none other than the very symbol of the city's reform; Admiral Merlwyb herself. Together the Rogues had unearthed a conspiracy to bomb the Bulwark Hall, assassinating the Admiral in her very bridge.

Which had obviously put a temporary halt on their little competition. The Rogues and Yellowjackets had set their grievances aside to stop the Reformist's plot, meeting together in the Lominsan streets on the appointed night as a thick, cloying fog rolled in ominously.

For much of the night it had seemed both parties' respective patrols were fruitless. Right up until a gunshot rang out through the mist. Joker and Jacke had jumped to action, slipping their way through the dark streets to where the sound had echoed. And there they found a crumpled Milala bleeding out on the white stones. Her pistol had fallen from her hand, and her front was torn with a ghastly diagonal gash from what looked like an axe.

"Please!" Milala gasped as she caught sight of them, words forced out through teeth clenched tight with pain, "You must… send word..."

Her fumbling hand groped for Jacke's arm, holding tight as she spasmed, "...Not after… the command room… They mean to bring down… the entire tower…"

Joker and Jacke exchanged glances. The captain gave a tight nod to the other two figures lurking around the alley's corner.

"I-if the Mizzenmast falls…" Milala paused for a sharp gasp, her fingers twitching, "The bridges will follow... Half the city will… will…"

"Save yer breath, lass. We're on it." Jacke said soothingly, placing a hand at her cheek as Joker leaned in from the opposite side. He clicked his tongue at the deep wound, halting the worst of the bleeding with healing light at his palms.

Perimu waved at them as he and V'kebbe returned to their sides.

"I've poked the 'Jackets. A healer'll be along shortly."

Milala coughed, wincing against the pain, "How… how did you know…?"

Jacke shrugged in the direction of her discarded firearm, "Yer 'valiant an' forthright' weapon there." He explained with a sarcastic lilt, "Ye could hear that single pistol shot from malms away. Weren't hard to guess what'd happened."

Milala chuckled weakly, "A… minor drawback, I'll grant you…"

She forced her eyes to lock with Jacke's even as they began to slip closed, "You must... You must stop them… Save the city…!"

And Jacke grinned, pulling his hand back as he and Joker stood up, "Ah, lass, ye know ye don't need to ask. Takin' down mad coves an' bitin' back what was bitten is our job. C'mon, then!"

Milala's vision faded to black as her eyelids fluttered shut, watching as the shapes of the city's saviors slipped away into the creeping darkness, the blades of their daggers glinting brightly.

Milala had stirred back to consciousness to a beam of sunlight from the window. She lay in a bed in the Yellowjacket's infirmary, the faces of her juniors peering nervously down at her.

They reached out to steady her as she winced against the constricting bandages across her chest and stomach.

"What… what happened…? Is everyone okay?"

After confirming that the Mizzenmast tower was very much still standing proud and the 'Black Sarcophagus' safely within the Yellowjacket's possession, she hesitantly inquired after the fate of the Rogues. Milala sighed in relief at the reports that the only bodies found in the aftermath of the incident had been those of the Reformists.

"The Rogues… They're the ones that deserve the credit. Half of the city would be destroyed if not for them. It's fair to say I'd misjudged them after all."

One of her subordinates lowered his hand away from the linkpearl at his ear, "...Ah, Captain? Might I have the Silver Sorrows from you now? We've been ordered to hand them over to the commodore, along with the Black Sarcophagus."

"Why, of course," Milala nodded, reaching for her ears, "They're right h─"

She froze as the tips of her fingers met only her lobes. Panic bloomed in her stomach as she desperately felt all over her face, "...The earrings! I could've sworn I was still…"

Milala broke off into a gasp as a horrible realization hit her, " ...They wouldn't have… They stole them from me while I lay dying?!"

Her fists trembled with as much fury as could be contained in her little body, face as red as a tomato.

"Those… those cads…! Those…!"

And Milala threw herself out from under the covers, startling her fellow Yellowjackets as she opened a window and howled angrily into the early morning sky. In the distance, a pack of La Noscean jackals answered back in a confused chorus.

The sound reached the ears of the smirking Rogues standing upon the Lominsan rooftops, faces turned to the rising sun as they basked in the sunlight and success of their mission both.

Jacke stretched himself out with a hearty groan, "t'll be nice to finally have a bit of a rest, eh? The job never ends, but even a dimber damber like meself needs to breathe every now an' again. An' yer 'venturin' mates must be wonderin' where ye've got to!" He added with a sly quirk of his lips in Joker's direction.

Joker shrugged, "Technically, I'm supposed to be resting right now." He only hoped the exact extent of his recent activities didn't get back to Minfilia, or he'd be the one confined to a sickbed.

Jacke snorted, "Never any rest for the wicked! That was a proper long assignment, but I'm glad ye decided to see it through. Thanks, Joker."

And Jacke reached into the pocket of his shirt. Raised a conspicuous silver earring between his fingers, letting the dawn light catch upon the elaborate etchings as he rolled it a little.

"Must be losin' me touch," Jacke opined, "Could only swipe one o' 'em."

"A real shame." Said Joker, eyes forward as he casually raised his own hand, an identical matching earring in his open palm.

Jacke raised an eyebrow. Then he snorted loudly. The two of them shared broad grins, eyes upon the open sea as the rising sun crested the horizon.

With the Silver Sorrows and the Cerulean Star in their possession, it would seem to be a victory for the Rogues. Good — or bene, rather. Joker would have settled for no other outcome.

…He still wanted a new pistol of his own, though.

White Mage:

"Have you no pride, sister?!" A-Ruhn-Senna hissed, gripping his staff tightly, "I know that you and Kan-E-Senna both speak highly of this man, but 'Warrior of Light' or no, a Seedseer should not beg the aid of a common adventurer!"

Raya-O-Senna nudged her brother sharply, "Enough! We have a duty to perform– one that takes precedence over your silly notions of pride."

Joker had come to the Everschade deep within the Central Shroud at E-Sumi-Yan's request, fearing for the safety of his fellow Padjal with regards to a particular ritual that he felt the siblings were unprepared for. Much assured of Joker's prowess due to his purging of the Voidsent in Amdapor, the head of the Conjurer's guild had directed him to the secretive location of the bickering pair.

He had encountered the siblings within the forest depths, surrounded by furious vilekin that seemed to have been angered into a frenzy excessive even for territorial Diremites. Joker's swift assistance in dispatching the beasts before they could lay so much as a snapping mandible on the pair of children had done little to mollify the younger brother however, still furious that an outsider should deign to appear before them at all.

Fuming, A-Ruhn-Senna turned away from both of them, continuing his march through the dark woods alone.

His sister shook her head as she followed his haughty departure, "Pay him no mind. This petty bickering will not help us succeed with the ritual, as my brother should well know. Tradition merely for tradition's sake only risks incurring the great one's wrath and bringing further disaster upon us."

Joker fidgeted, fingers curling awkwardly on the handle of his gunblade, "I don't mean to pry, but is it really okay for the two of you to be here alone? You're both pretty young…"

And Raya-O-Senna turned back to him with a highly amused quirk of her eyebrow, "Is that what you think, hmmm? And what if I were to tell you that I was actually your senior, and my brother comparable to your age?"

He squinted at her, measuring her height from boots to the tip of her signature horns, "Could've fooled me."

Raya-O-Senna laughed heartily, steepling her fingers together, "It's a Padjal trait! Slowed aging. You wouldn't be the first to make that mistake."

The Padjal girl-that-was-actually-a-woman leaned in closer to him, "It was a pleasure to meet you the other day. You did a fantastic job quelling that Primal. I assure you, the Mooglesguard received a very sound tongue-lashing from yours truly for that little misstep." She added, grinning, "E-Sumi-Yan and my sister have sung your praises so loudly of late that I simply had to see you for myself. I, for one, welcome your assistance."

She looked him up and down. Her green eyes were bright with a mild mischief.

"Another common misnomer is the belief that ancient tradition dictates that the Quieting be performed by three Padjals. When in actuality the only requirement is the presence of three White Mages."

Raya-O-Senna hummed a little to herself. Joker caught the sight of something glinting in her hand.

"Tell me," She began, tilting her head with faux-innocence, "Are you at all interested in taking your Conjury practice to the next level? And should your answer to that be affirmative — how badly would you like to break a centuries-old tradition?"

Joker raised an eyebrow at her. Mischievous delight similarly sparked in his eyes, "Very much, probably."

Original Ao3 endnotes:

Bonus sketch: A little look at will probably be the next chapter over on this side. :) Delivery Moogles have it hard!

I hope you're all looking forward to the Fanfest stream too! Fingers crossed for female Hrothgar!