Thea Nicole

The voyage across the Ruby Sea had been uneventful… for once.

Thancred Waters stood near the railing as the ship eased toward the docks of Doma. Lanternlight flickered across the water, reflected in wavering ribbons of gold that stretched toward the distant shoreline. The scent of salt and river reeds drifted across the deck as the ship slowed, mingling with the faint smoke of evening cookfires rising from the city below. Even from here he could see the castle rising above the city, its silhouette outlined against the fading glow of evening.

It was peaceful, a rare sight in a world that had known far too much war.

He slipped a hand into his coat pocket, fingers brushing the folded letter tucked inside.

Krile’s handwriting had been unmistakable.

Thancred,

Lord Hien has requested that the Scions send a representative to observe upcoming reconstruction talks. Several caravans traveling along the northern trade routes have reported encounters with armed groups claiming allegiance to the fallen Garlean Empire.

Thancred had stopped reading the first time he reached the familiar line further down the page.

Unfortunately, the others are presently occupied.

Of course they were…

Alphinaud had been drawn back into Alliance politics almost the moment they returned from the First. Y’shtola and Urianger had buried themselves in aetheric research once more. G’raha was assisting the Ironworks with yet another impossible project. And the Warrior of Light…

Thancred allowed himself a faint smirk.

The hero of Eorzea was currently somewhere in the Black Shroud dealing with a voidsent infestation that had apparently grown ambitious enough to attack passing caravans.

Which left him.

Krile’s final line had been characteristically diplomatic.

However, your experience in both diplomacy and reconnaissance makes you the ideal candidate.

A very polite way of saying ‘You’re the only one available.’

Still, he could hardly complain about the destination.

The ship docked with a soft thud. Thancred glanced toward the pier and immediately spotted the welcoming party waiting there.

Lord Hien of Doma was difficult to miss. Even among the bustle of the harbor, the young ruler carried himself with an easy confidence that drew the eye without effort. He stood near the edge of the pier dressed in simple garments, his posture relaxed as he spoke quietly with the woman beside him, Yugiri. Her olive green eyes were already fixed on the ship.

Thancred stepped down the gangplank, and Hien greeted him with an easy smile. “Master Thancred Waters, I presume?” His gaze lingered for a moment longer than simple courtesy required, as though quietly measuring the man before him.

Thancred inclined his head politely. “Guilty as charged.”

Hien laughed softly. “Then allow me to welcome you to Doma. Your journey was pleasant, I hope?”

“As pleasant as sea travel tends to be,” Thancred replied, which was to say, tolerable.

Hien seemed amused by the answer. “You have my gratitude for coming so quickly. The Scions have always been steadfast friends to our people.”

Thancred shrugged lightly. “We do what we can.”

Yugiri had said nothing since his arrival. Her gaze lingered on him with quiet intensity, assessment. Thancred knew the look well. She studied the way he moved, the way his eyes flicked across the docks, noting exits, vantage points, unfamiliar faces. A spy recognizing another. The briefest hint of approval flickered in her expression before it vanished again behind the practiced composure of a shinobi.

Finally, she inclined her head slightly. “Your reputation precedes you, Master Thancred.”

Thancred offered a faint smile. “Let us hope it’s an accurate one.”

Hien gestured toward the city beyond the harbor. “Come. The council gathers this evening. I would value your perspective.”

Thancred raised an eyebrow. “My perspective?”

Hien’s grin widened. “One can never have too many.”

Doma Castle was quieter than Thancred expected. Not empty, never empty, but calm in a way few seats of power ever managed to achieve. Servants moved through the halls with practiced efficiency, lanternlight casting warm pools of gold along polished wood floors. The scent of incense lingered faintly in the air, subtle but pleasant.

An attendant led him through a series of winding corridors before stopping at a sliding door near the outer wall. “Your quarters, Master Thancred.”

Thancred bowed his head. “My thanks.”

The attendant bowed before quietly departing. Thancred slid the door open and stepped inside.

The room was modest but comfortable. A low table rested near the center, and a small writing desk stood against the wall beside neatly arranged scrolls and ink. The far side of the chamber opened onto a wide balcony overlooking the city below.

Thancred crossed the room and stepped outside. Doma spread out beneath him in a sea of lanternlight. The city had come alive as evening settled over the valley. Soft golden lights dotted the streets and riverside markets, while distant laughter and music drifted faintly up from somewhere beyond the castle walls. The river cut a dark ribbon through the city, its surface shimmering with reflected lanterns. It was peaceful, almost disarmingly so.

Thancred rested his arms against the balcony railing, studying the city in silence. Doma had endured much in recent years, occupation, rebellion, and war. Yet, standing here now, it was difficult to imagine the violence that had once gripped these streets.

His thoughts drifted briefly back to the docks. Lord Hien had greeted him personally. That alone spoke volumes. Most rulers preferred distance, ceremony, layers of attendants and advisors. But Hien had simply walked down to the harbor and welcomed him like an old acquaintance.

Thancred allowed himself a faint smile. The man carried authority easily, confidence without arrogance, warmth without naivety. It was a rare combination. Most men in power learned quickly that kindness was a liability. Hien, it seemed, had chosen a different path, though Thancred suspected the man knew exactly the effect he had on a room. And Yugiri…

Thancred’s gaze shifted thoughtfully toward the city lights. She had said little during their brief meeting at the docks, but her eyes had missed nothing. The way she studied him had been unmistakable, professional curiosity no doubt.

‘You move like a spy.’ Thancred could practically hear the thought behind her gaze. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

He drummed his fingers lightly against the railing. The council meeting would be interesting. Hien seemed like the sort of ruler who preferred listening over speaking. That could either make the meeting pleasantly efficient, or unbearably long, depending on the disposition of his advisors.

Thancred suspected the latter. Still, the situation itself warranted attention. Garlean loyalists appearing along Doma’s northern trade routes was not something to ignore. The Empire might be fractured, but fragments of power could still cause considerable trouble.

But for now, his task was simple enough. Observe, advise if necessary, and quietly determine whether the rumors held any real substance.

Thancred exhaled softly. With any luck, the evening would prove uneventful.

A knock sounded behind him. “Master Thancred?”

Thancred turned toward the door. “Yes?”

“The council meeting is about to begin.”

Of course it was.

He pushed himself away from the railing and stepped back inside. Krile’s folded letter rested on the table where he had left it earlier. Thancred slipped it back into his coat.

“Well,” he muttered quietly to himself, “let’s see what trouble the evening brings.”

The chamber was already filled when Thancred arrived.

A long table stretched across the room, surrounded by Doman officials, military advisors, and village representatives. Hien sat at the head, Yugiri standing quietly nearby.

Conversations died down as Thancred entered, and Hien gestured toward an empty seat. “Master Thancred joins us today as a representative of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”

Thancred offered a polite nod. “Please, don’t let me interrupt.”

One of the trade ministers cleared his throat. “As I was saying, my lord, the merchants remain unwilling to travel the northern road.”

Another official frowned. “The last caravan reported armed men flying Garlean banners.”

A ripple of unease passed through the table. The Empire’s shadow was not so easily forgotten.

A military advisor spoke next. “Perhaps nothing more than deserters. The collapse of Garlemald must have scattered many soldiers.”

“Deserters still carry weapons,” another replied grimly.

Hien rested his chin thoughtfully against his hand. “And yet closing the road entirely would harm the villages that depend upon it.”

Yugiri spoke quietly. “My shinobi have begun scouting the region. Several small encampments have been confirmed.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward Thancred. “Organized ones.”

The room grew noticeably quieter. Hien followed her gaze. “Master Thancred,” he said warmly, “you have spent more time observing the Empire than most. What is your impression?”

Thancred leaned back slightly in his chair. He had hoped to remain quiet longer. Still, refusing would be rude. “Hard to say with limited information,” he said, “but Garlean loyalists rarely operate this far from former territory without coordination. If they’re organized enough to hold camps, someone is supplying them.”

Several officials exchanged uneasy looks. The military advisor frowned. “You believe this is organized?”

Thancred shrugged lightly. “I believe it’s worth assuming the worst until proven otherwise.”

Yugiri watched him carefully. Not dramatic or alarmist, but measured and practical. She approved.

Hien regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, looking faintly amused, as though committing the observation, and the man who made it, to memory. “As expected, the Scions send someone who notices what others miss.”

Thancred offered a dry smile. “I try.”

The discussion continued for some time, trade routes, patrols, scouting reports, but eventually, Hien rose from his seat. “That will suffice for tonight.”

The council chamber slowly emptied. Officials gathered their scrolls and papers, bowing politely before departing into the castle corridors. Conversations faded into the distance as the last of the advisors filed out. Soon, only a handful remained.

Thancred rolled his shoulders, easing the stiffness that came from sitting through hours of diplomacy. “An impressive display of patience,” he remarked dryly.

Hien laughed softly. “A necessary skill for anyone who intends to survive ruling a nation.”

The young ruler stepped away from the head of the table, stretching slightly as if shedding the weight of official responsibilities now that the room had cleared.

Yugiri approached quietly. “My lord, I will see to the scouts you requested.”

Hien nodded. “Thank you, Yugiri.”

Her gaze shifted briefly toward Thancred, a subtle inclination of her head followed, respectful. Then, she departed the chamber without another word.

Thancred watched her go. “Efficient,” he observed.

“The shinobi of Doma tend to be,” Hien replied.

A comfortable silence settled over the room. Thancred moved toward one of the open windows, glancing out across the city. Night had fully fallen now, and the lanterns below seemed even brighter against the darkened sky.

Hien joined him a moment later. “Diplomacy is exhausting work,” he said lightly.

Thancred snorted quietly. “You’re telling me.”

Hien folded his arms along the window ledge. “One should never face such things sober.”

Thancred raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like an invitation.”

Hien’s grin widened. “It is.”

Thancred considered the offer for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “I wouldn’t want to impose on your evening, my lord.”

Hien waved the concern away immediately. “You’re hardly imposing.” His expression softened slightly. “And please, if we are to spend the next several days working together, you may call me Hien.”

Thancred studied him for a moment. The offer seemed genuine. “Very well,” he said, “but only if you extend the same courtesy.”

Hien laughed. “Thancred, then.” He gestured toward the doors. “The courtyard is far more pleasant than this chamber after a meeting like that.”

Thancred hesitated only briefly before following him. The evening air greeted them as they stepped outside. The castle courtyard overlooked much of the city below, its stone pathways lined with softly glowing lanterns. A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of nearby trees, carrying the distant sounds of the city upward.

Hien retrieved a small bottle and two cups from a nearby table. He poured the drink with practiced ease before offering one to Thancred. “For surviving your first Doman council meeting.”

Thancred accepted the cup. “Should I expect the next one to be worse?”

Hien chuckled. “Almost certainly.”

They stepped toward the balcony overlooking the city. For a moment, neither spoke. The quiet was comfortable. Thancred leaned lightly against the railing, watching the lanterns flicker across the distant river. After the tension of the meeting, the peaceful view felt almost surreal.

Hien studied him for a moment, as if comparing the relaxed man beside him to the careful observer who had just sat silently through the council meeting. He took a slow sip from his cup. “You seemed rather at ease in there.”

Thancred shrugged slightly. “I’ve endured worse.”

“I imagine you have.” Hien studied him thoughtfully. “But you also noticed things my advisors did not.”

Thancred gave a small, noncommittal hum. “That’s what the Scions sent me for.”

Hien smiled faintly. “I suspect they sent exactly the right person.”

Thancred said nothing. But he didn’t argue either.

The quiet stretched between them again, broken only by the distant sounds of the city below.

A burst of laughter drifted upward from somewhere beyond the castle walls. Music followed soon after, soft and lively, the notes of a shamisen carried faintly on the evening breeze.

Thancred took another sip from his cup. The drink was smooth, warm without burning. “Not bad,” he admitted.

Hien smiled faintly. “High praise.”

Thancred glanced sideways at him. “Don’t get used to it.”

Hien chuckled softly and leaned against the railing beside him, resting his arms across the stone as he looked out over the city. “Doma is fortunate,” he said after a moment.

Thancred raised a brow. “Fortunate?”

“To have friends who travel such distances to help protect it.”

Thancred’s expression shifted slightly, though his tone remained casual. “The Scions help where we can.”

“That is a humble answer.”

“Occupational hazard.”

Hien laughed quietly at that.

For a time they simply stood together, watching the lantern-lit streets below. The peaceful rhythm of the city continued uninterrupted, merchants closing their stalls, musicians entertaining late evening crowds, children chasing one another beneath glowing lanterns.

Thancred found himself studying the scene more closely. “You’ve done well,” he said eventually.

Hien glanced at him.

“With the city.” Thancred gestured faintly toward the streets below. “Recovery after a war like that isn’t easy. Most places don’t manage it nearly this smoothly.”

Hien considered that for a moment. “It was not my doing alone.” His voice softened slightly. “The people of Doma fought very hard to reclaim their home. The least I can do is help them rebuild it.”

Thancred watched him quietly. Hien said it without pride or pretense, just simple truth. He exhaled lightly. “No wonder your advisors are so loyal.”

Hien’s gaze shifted toward him again. “You noticed that?”

Thancred gave him a sidelong look. “Observing people is part of my job.”

“Yes,” Hien said thoughtfully. “I suspected as much.”

Thancred took another drink. “And what gave me away?”

Hien tilted his head slightly, clearly amused. “You spend a great deal of time watching everyone in a room without appearing to do so.”

Thancred froze for a fraction of a second.

Hien continued casually. “You also positioned your chair where you could see both entrances and most of the council members without turning your head.”

Thancred lowered his cup slowly. “You’re very observant.”

“I try to be.”

Thancred studied him for a moment before letting out a quiet huff of laughter. “Well… that’s embarrassing.”

Hien smiled. “On the contrary. It’s impressive.”

Thancred shook his head slightly. “Most people find it unsettling.”

“Most people,” Hien said calmly, “are not accustomed to working alongside spies.”

Thancred leaned back against the railing again. “Fair point.”

Another comfortable silence settled between them. This one felt different, less formal.

Hien turned slightly, studying Thancred with quiet curiosity. “You seem surprisingly relaxed for someone tasked with investigating possible imperial loyalists.”

Thancred shrugged. “Experience.”

“And confidence?”

“Maybe.”

Hien raised a brow. “Or perhaps you simply trust Doma’s defenses.”

Thancred smirked faintly. “Your shinobi are impressive.”

Hien chuckled. “Yugiri will be pleased to hear that.”

“Please, don’t tell her.”

“And why not?”

Thancred sighed theatrically. “Because the last thing I need is to encourage professional rivalry with a shinobi who can probably disappear into thin air.”

Hien laughed openly this time. The sound carried easily through the quiet courtyard.

Thancred glanced at him again, faint amusement lingering in his expression. “You laugh easily for a ruler.”

Hien leaned back against the railing beside him. “Life is too short not to.” His voice softened slightly. “We’ve both seen enough war to know that.”

Thancred didn’t answer immediately. For a moment his gaze drifted back toward the lantern-lit city below. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We have.”

The breeze shifted slightly, carrying the scent of night-blooming flowers through the courtyard.

Hien studied Thancred for a moment longer. “You carry it well.”

Thancred blinked. “Carry what?”

“The weight of it.”

Thancred let out a quiet breath through his nose. “That obvious, is it?”

“Only to someone familiar with the burden.”

Thancred glanced at him again. Hien’s expression remained calm, thoughtful, unprobing. Just… understanding.

Thancred looked back toward the city lights. “Well,” he said after a moment. “That’s the trouble with being observant.”

Hien smiled softly. “And here I thought it was your profession.”

Thancred chuckled quietly. “Among other things.”

Hien tilted his head slightly. “I imagine you have many interesting stories.”

Thancred raised a brow. “Careful.”

“Oh?”

“You might regret asking.”

Hien’s grin returned immediately. “Now I’m certain I won’t.”

Thancred studied him for a moment. Then he sighed. “Fine.” He lifted his cup slightly. “But if I’m embarrassing myself with old spy stories, you’re sharing something in return.”

Hien considered that. “That seems fair.”

Thancred smirked. “Good.” He took another sip before glancing sideways at him again.“So tell me, Hien…” His tone carried the faintest hint of challenge. “What sort of trouble did you get into before becoming the ruler of Doma?”

Hien’s laughter lingered in the courtyard for a moment before fading into a quiet smile. “Oh, Thancred,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “I have a feeling that is a much longer story.”

Thancred smirked faintly. “That wasn’t part of the agreement.”

Hien lifted his cup in mock surrender. “Very well. One story each.”

“Fair.”

Thancred shifted slightly against the railing, turning just enough to face him. “Where to begin…” He tapped a finger thoughtfully against the rim of his cup. “Ah! There was a job in Ul’dah several years ago.”

Hien leaned forward slightly, interest immediately apparent. “Already this sounds promising.”

Thancred gave him a dry look. “You may regret saying that.”

“I doubt it.”

Thancred took a slow sip before continuing. “I had been hired to investigate a merchant who was suspected of smuggling Garlean contraband into the city. Nothing particularly unusual.”

“So far.”

“Indeed.” Thancred rested his elbows on the railing. “The man owned a rather large estate near the Steps of Thal. Getting inside unnoticed proved… complicated.”

Hien’s eyes glinted with amusement. “I sense a ‘but’ approaching.”

“There’s always a ‘but.’” Thancred sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately, the only way into the estate that evening was through a rather elaborate garden party.”

Hien blinked. “A garden party?”

“With music, dancing, nobles everywhere.”

Hien struggled, and failed, to suppress a grin. “And you attended?”

Thancred gave him a long look. “I had no choice.”

“I’m sure.”

“Disguised as a visiting merchant from Ishgard, no less.”

Hien laughed. “I would have paid good coin to see that.”

“Oh, it gets better.” Thancred lifted a finger. “I had nearly reached the estate’s study when someone insisted I join a dance.”

Hien nearly choked on his drink. “You danced?”

“Badly.”

Hien’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Thancred Waters, master spy… defeated by ballroom etiquette.”

Thancred pointed at him accusingly. “You promised not to mock.”

“I promised nothing of the sort.”

Thancred sighed, though a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Long story short, I escaped the estate with the documents I needed.”

“After dancing?”

“After dancing.”

Hien wiped a tear of laughter from his eye. “That might be the finest story I have heard all year.”

Thancred raised a brow. “Your turn.”

Hien leaned back against the railing, considering. “Well…” His smile turned slightly mischievous. “Before I reclaimed Doma, there was a period of time when I traveled the Ruby Sea with a rather… unconventional group.”

Thancred’s curiosity piqued immediately. “The Confederacy?”

“Indeed.”

Thancred chuckled softly. “I suspected as much.”

Hien crossed his arms casually. “One evening, a group of us decided it would be entertaining to challenge a visiting samurai to a drinking contest.”

Thancred tilted his head. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“It was.”

Thancred smirked. “And yet you participated.”

“I was young.”

“And?”

Hien sighed dramatically. “And I lost.”

Thancred grinned. “I find that difficult to believe.”

“The man had the constitution of a mountain.”

“So what was the consequence?”

Hien glanced at him sideways. “I spent the next morning helping repair a fishing boat I had apparently promised to fix.”

Thancred laughed quietly. “That tracks.”

They shared another quiet moment of laughter. The tension of the evening had all but disappeared now.

Thancred leaned against the railing again, studying the lantern-lit streets below. “You seem different from most rulers I’ve met,” he said.

Hien raised a brow. “Oh?”

“You listen.”

Hien considered that. “Listening is important.”

“Many rulers prefer talking.”

Hien smiled faintly. “I find one learns far more the other way.” Thancred nodded slightly. That matched his observations. After a moment, Hien spoke again. “And you seem different from most spies.”

Thancred raised a brow. “That sounds concerning.”

Hien chuckled. “You’re more honest than you pretend to be.”

Thancred stared at him for a moment. “…I’m not sure whether that was meant as a compliment.”

“It was.”

Thancred exhaled quietly, embarrassed yet again. Hien let out another soft laugh. The sound lingered between them. His eyes were still bright with amusement, the lanternlight catching in them as he looked at Thancred. For a moment, Thancred found himself studying him more closely. The relaxed posture, the warmth in his expression, the easy way he seemed to exist within his own responsibilities without letting them harden him.

Dangerous, Thancred thought. Not in the usual sense, but in a quieter way, the sort that made a man forget he had come here to work. It had been a long time since he’d met someone he could talk to like this.

Hien noticed the look. “What is it?”

Thancred shook his head slightly. “Nothing.”

Hien studied him for a moment longer before letting the question drop. “Another drink?”

Thancred glanced down at his cup. It was already empty. He sighed. “Well,” he held it out, “I suppose diplomacy does require endurance.”

Hien grinned. “Precisely.” Hien poured another round and handed Thancred his cup. “For diplomacy,” he said.

Thancred accepted it with a faint smirk. “Of course.”

They stood quietly for another moment, watching the lantern-lit city below. The night had deepened now, the sky a soft velvet blue scattered with faint stars. A gentle breeze stirred through the courtyard.

Hien took a slow sip of his drink before glancing toward the castle gardens. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “the view from here is pleasant, but there’s a better one.”

Thancred raised a brow. “Oh?”

Hien gestured toward the stone path leading away from the courtyard. “The gardens overlook the river. The lanterns reflect across the water at this hour.”

Thancred considered that for a moment before pushing himself away from the railing. “Well,” he said, “lead the way.”

Hien smiled and set off down the path. The castle gardens were quieter than the city below, though distant music still drifted faintly upward from the streets. Stone walkways wound through clusters of carefully tended trees and flowering shrubs, their branches illuminated by hanging lanterns that swayed gently in the night breeze.

Thancred followed beside Hien, his gaze wandering over the garden paths. “You have a remarkable view from up here,” he observed.

Hien slowed his pace slightly without realizing it, matching Thancred’s stride, and nodded. “One of the few luxuries of living in a castle.”

Thancred chuckled quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind if I ever find myself ruling a nation.”

Hien laughed. “I suspect you’d make a very different sort of ruler.”

Thancred raised a brow. “That obvious?”

“You notice everything.”

“That sounds more like a problem than a qualification.”

They reached a wide overlook where the garden opened toward the river valley. Hien had not exaggerated. The river shimmered below them, reflecting hundreds of floating lanterns drifting slowly along the current. The lights moved gently across the dark water like a trail of distant stars.

Thancred let out a quiet breath. “Well,” he murmured. “I stand corrected.” For a moment he wasn’t sure whether he meant the view… or the man who had brought him here.

Hien leaned against the wooden railing overlooking the river. “It’s one of my favorite places in the castle.”

Thancred joined him beside the railing. “I can see why.”

For a moment neither of them spoke. The quiet was comfortable again. Below them, the lanterns continued their slow journey down the river.

Thancred tilted his head slightly as he studied them. “Festival?”

Hien shook his head. “No, just tradition.”

Thancred glanced at him. “Tradition?”

“Some people release lanterns in remembrance,” Hien explained quietly, “others for hope… most often both.”

Thancred looked back at the river. There were more lanterns than he had first realized. Hundreds. Maybe thousands. “Seems Doma has plenty of both.”

Hien smiled faintly. “We’ve had reason for it.”

Thancred hummed softly. That was one way of putting it.

After a moment, Hien spoke again. “I’m glad you came.”

Thancred blinked slightly. “That sounded suspiciously sincere.”

Hien laughed. “It was. Doma is a place best appreciated in good company, and tonight, I believe it has that.”

Thancred glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to the lanterns. “You already have capable advisors.”

“True.”

“And Yugiri’s shinobi seem more than capable of handling imperial stragglers.”

“Also true.”

Thancred tilted his head. “So why request the Scions?”

Hien considered the question for a moment. “Because sometimes an outside perspective sees things others miss.”

Thancred nodded slightly. Fair answer, but he suspected it was not the whole answer.

He glanced sideways at Hien. “You trust us.”

Hien met his gaze without hesitation. “Yes.”

Thancred looked back toward the river again. That kind of trust wasn’t something he took lightly.

Another lantern drifted slowly past below them.

Hien watched it for a moment before speaking again. “You seem more relaxed tonight than when you arrived.”

Thancred snorted quietly. “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.”

Thancred shrugged. “Good company helps.”

Hien looked at him again, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I’ll take that as another compliment.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Hien laughed softly. The sound lingered in the quiet garden.

For a moment they simply stood together, watching the lanterns drift along the river beneath the night sky.

Thancred rested his arms on the railing. “You know,” he said after a moment, “this might be the strangest assignment Krile has given me.”

Hien raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Investigating potential Garlean loyalists while drinking in castle gardens and admiring lantern festivals.”

Hien chuckled. “Consider it a reward for surviving the council meeting.”

Thancred smirked faintly. “In that case, I hope tomorrow’s investigation is just as relaxing.”

Hien’s grin widened slightly. “I’m afraid tomorrow may involve considerably more work.”

Thancred sighed theatrically. “Tragic.”

Hien leaned lightly against the railing beside him again. “Still,” he said, “I suspect the evening isn’t entirely wasted.”

Thancred glanced sideways at him. “Oh?”

Hien smiled. “After all,” his voice carried the faintest hint of teasing, “I now know you can dance.”

Thancred stared at him. “…That story was told in confidence.”

Hien laughed again, the sound carrying softly across the quiet garden.

The lanterns continued drifting along the river below, their light slowly disappearing into the night. Beside each other, the two lingered at the railing a moment longer than necessary, watching the same distant lights. And for the first time in quite a while, Thancred found himself genuinely looking forward to whatever tomorrow might bring. Another lantern drifted slowly past on the river below, its light carried quietly into the night.

End