User blog:Ziharku/Log 26: Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed, Something BLU

Every time I use the boat to go to and from Whitegate, I can only think one thing: I will never use this boat again. My weakened state certainly didn’t help, though I suppose I’m beginning to digress. Crutch beneath my arm as I drag myself from that wretched hunk of wood, I see a Hume (male) holding a sign with my name on it, morning sun glaring off the material. On seeing me, his face lights up, hurrying over to greet me. He’s a medical officer employed to see to my swift recovery. Upon confirming that Salaheem’s Sentinels had nothing to do with the hiring process nor that any payments would be asked of me for his services, I’ve elected to receive him. Who hired him to aid me though, he won’t say. Only “A red turban and white helm," though this makes little sense to me.

As we arrive back at headquarters, I’m met first by warm greetings, and the silent stares. Finally “Wow, Caj is back."

My new medic, as I’m told, happens to be a member of the mercenary group, gone missing for quite some time. He claims he was merely on an ‘extended mission,’ though a few angry mutters replaced ‘mission’ with ‘break’. To show his enthusiasm for returning, a song is proposed. The proposal is quickly shut down by the majority, or rather, everyone but himself. I can’t help but chuckle wondering just how bad a singer he is.

I go to the Corsair, whom I find at the table next to the Ninja (female, Mitran), our newest recruit from Jeuno. I inquire on the condition of the units after the fight in the Obliette, but he his answers are short, his attention on a sheet of paper between the two of them. Curious, I crane my head, though he turns it so that I cannot see, somewhat scowling. What could have brought this on? My mind goes to the fight, losing myself to the voices. Perhaps this has brought some sort of distrust. For all I know I may have had some sort of physical transformation as it occurred. I hadn’t had the chance to ask anyone while I was in San d'Oria as my return was hastened by the King, insisting I return here to rest. Perhaps it was he that hired this fellow, though him being Hume rather than Elvaan makes this doubt-able.

Taking the hint to leave him alone, I go for a leisurely stroll to the craftsman for armor repairs. For the most part it had held well during that last venture, but the gaping hole in my boot is far too noticeable to leave. He can’t help but sigh as he takes a look at the bite marks, muttering in wonder about what could bite so cleanly through. Insisting on modifications, he begins to ask me things. Hopes. thoughts, journeys, all the like. I wove him tails of battles in the crystal war, the passing of my parents, the loss of my sister, my relocated companion. Hours passed as we spoke, and he quietly worked away, finally finishing in the evening. As I reach for my coin purse, he stops me, saying that the stories are all the payment needed for this. “The modifications I’ve put in are the very stories themselves. All that you’ve told me, embodied in your armor. Use it well."

Getting back to headquarters, I can’t help but feel that I’m being watched. I make a few stops at stalls, some hurrying me along so that they can close before the sun fully sets, but I still can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me. There are a few civilians in the area, but none seem to be the cause, most are even facing the opposite direction. To truly make sure I’m not followed back, I can only think of two places to my follower won’t willingly go. The first is the Imperial Palace, though I doubt they’d let me in uninvited. And the other….

"Ah, Ziharku, I didn’t think I’d see you in here. What can I do for you?" Abquhbah says as I’m met inside Salaheem’s. I can’t tell him why I’m really here, or I might seem to be abusing their hospitality…yes I suppose I’d call it hospitality so long as Naja isn’t the greeter. And speak of the Devil, she walks around the corner with an expression of flushed surprise, then a bit of a smirk.

"Well well, what have we here. Come to Salaheem's for anything in particular today Ziharrrku?" As I fumble with words, trying to find an excuse for my presence, a messenger enters with a note.

Abquhbah takes it, then hands it to me. “Well it seems you were expecting mail."

"Mail? At this time of day?" She snatches the envelope from my hands, opening it to take a look. Abquhbah seems startled at her brash behavior, but I just sit in wonder of who it would even be from. Taken aback, she nearly drops it. “An…invitation to the palace from the Emprrrress herself?!" She verifies the seal on both the invitation and the envelope, assuring me of the legitimacy. “Well then, you’d better make sure you don’t scrrrrew this up. Salaheem's reputation will suffer if you can’t make a good imprrression!" Almost shoving the paper into my hands she storms off toward her office. Abquhbah apologizes repeatedly, but I just tell him it doesn’t bother me. I’ve gotten used to pushy people at this point.

Mental note, arranged meeting is a week from now.

Leaving, I can feel the presence from earlier is no longer there, and so I return home. On entering, I find dinner is just being finished, and so sit myself down toward the end of the table by the Dragoon. A hearty fellow, he can surely eat with the best of them. But never have I seen so zealous an eater as the Black Mage. Despite his small stature and moderate frame (as opposed to the usual over-chubbiness found in a Tarutaru without a melee occupation), that fellow can be found eating something at most any part of the day, and still emptying more plates at a meal than many of us.

At the opposite end of the table, I see the Corsair and the Ninja. The two chat merrily over their meal, and I suppose my face had a look of questioning on it, for an answer was produced by the Ranger. “Oh yeah, those two hit it off pretty well while you were gone." Taking another swig of his drink, he continues, “I knew it was gonna happen the day she walked in. Nobody believed me, but I called it!" Another swig to empty his bottle, then he rose from the table to retrieve another. Perhaps it was this then. I must have interrupted some of their time, planning a date maybe. I can’t help be feel somewhat relieved that it was just my inability to read the mood as opposed to a new-found dislike for my presence.

My medic is sleeping in the leg space below my desk….I feel somewhat perturbed. I think I’ll order a new desk tomorrow in town.