Allagan Relics somewhere in the Sea of Ash. A tantalizing prospect, one the Scarlet Waves could not ignore. While they typically cut the waters of the Indigo Deep and Rohtano Sea, this expedition would take them to the far side of Ul’dah, a place Killian hadn’t been to in quite some time; never had he ventured upon that sea while flying pirate’s colours.

“Every crew an’ their ma is gonna want to scavenge the island,” the captain had declared.

“If we use our heads, we could outpace them,” Killian had countered. As a rather adept navigator and the most articulate of the crew, it was decided he would be the one to gather the information they needed from Ul’dah.

After disembarking at Vesper Bay, Killian forged his way to the city via chocobo courier, his focus keen, anticipation already threatening to take hold of him. A part of him was excited about finding the ruins and claiming whatever treasures they could manage to get their hands on – priceless things any fence would empty their pockets to obtain, he wagered – but also because of the other crews they might encounter. It had been a month since they had last had contact with another pirate vessel on the sea. He was itching for information, no matter how hopeless it all seemed. He would sacrifice anything to finally get a step closer to his aim – even every relic in the damned ruins.

Once he arrived in the city proper, he headed straight for the Ossuary. It was quiet inside, as expected. He stuck near the wall, swiftly making his way through the large building, past the practicing thaumaturges. A novice bent over a book, muttering spells, tongue tripping over the words as they attempted to weave an orb of ice above their palm. A faint smile touched Killian’s lips. He remembered his early days, when he first began to learn magic beneath the quiet boughs canopying the world around his cavern, back when that was the only world he knew. Veritable lifetimes ago.

He continued down a narrow hallway flanked by doors, searching for the historian’s offices. Killian knocked on a door, quickly and softly rapping his knuckles against the wood. No reply. He shrugged to himself, and tested the door. Unlocked. Perfect. Pushing it open, he was greeted by a desk stacked with tomes and pages, and towering bookshelves. Where to begin?

As Killian rifled through the books and papers on the desk, he began to hum softly to himself. He shifted to a bookcase, fingers hovering above the spines, scanning for anything with the words Allagan or Sea of Ash. There was actually more than he expected. He grabbed a tome, flipped it open. Nothing of worth. He shoved it clumsily back onto the shelf, knocking something else over in the process. He bent down to pick it up. Some kind of sextant? He remained in his crouch, examining the small device as he held it carefully between his fingers.

The door opened with an exhale and a creak. Killian shot back up to his feet, turning towards the door as he put the device back without looking, nearly dropping it all over again. A red-haired woman was in the doorway, young, likely somewhere around his age. Not exactly what he pictured when he heard the word “historian.”