“But I… I don’t understand! This a steaming pile of chocobo droppings, Heaucreubiont! You know this!” The furious Galka, known by his hume given name, Wandering Tadpole, said as he slammed his hulking fist onto the table, dramatically shaking it.

“Stand down, Burald!” Yelled Heaucreubiont, a higher ranking Ducal Guard officer, one of the only men in the Ducal Guard who would call, or even knew, the Galka’s non-Hume name. “Orders are orders, my friend. I’m sorry.”

The Galka slammed his hand down on the table again, letting out a roar. “I have been in service to Jeuno since well before the Crystal War! Why am I being requested to take leave at this time? What is this nonsense here,” Burald said, gesturing in disdain to a paper discharge on the table. “’Questionable allegiances?’ My loyalty to Jeuno is undying, I demand to know what puny administrator deemed otherwise.”

“My friend,” the Elvaan began, pointing to another reason for discharge on the sheet of paper, saying, ‘Anger management issues.’ “That isn’t the only reason they—“

“You are dodging the question, you blood-haired dhalmel!”

“And you have no sensibility, you dog-faced Orc.” The two friends would often exchange insults with each other, which frequently crossed the lines of racism, however for the two of them it seemed to be something that had helped them bond together over the years. Heaucreubiont was a proud Elvaan, who often looked down on the other races, while Wandering Tadpole or as he preferred, Burald, was very much the same way. Despite both of them both finding themselves in disgust over the other’s race, in their honesty and their frankness with each other, a sense of trust had formed over the years.

Silence filled the room, as Burald read over his discharge over and over. Heaucreubiont, looking at the scene, said, “You apparently have spent the past several months trapped on Tavnazia. Living in a shack, apparently, that had been and is now currently in use by individuals currently under investigation of Jeuno.” The Elvaan sighed, shaking his head, and looked down. “Individuals who purposefully interrupted a very important Jeunoan operation.”

“You think I’m in league with them? You think I’m in league with that Thief and her scrawny party of Sahagin rejects? THAT is what this is about!?” The Galka stood straight up and pointed straight at Heaucreubiont’s face. “I was trapped there, for months, as indicated in my report. And I claimed that shack in the name of the Duchy, and had assumed that treacherous pack of adventurers had met their end to the Orcs in the area.” He paused, “What about that story isn’t believable!? Answer me.”

The Elvaan was silent.

Burald shook his head and began to walk out. “Where is Wolfgang? If he wants me out because I’m a Galka and he finds me more fit to work in the mines I’m going to be shoving a darksteel ore up his—“

“It’s not Wolfgang,” Heaucreubiont said shaking his head. “Hume though he is, I can say he bears no grudge against you or your kind.” Heaucreabiont folded his arms. “The order comes from something much higher than that.”

Burald paused, and asked, “Then who?”

“Nag’molada.”

Burald was shocked. “Nag’molada… but why?”

Heaucreubiont approached Burald and put his arm around his shoulders, and the two began the walk. Burald was disturbed and unappreciative of the gesture, until he realized that Heaucreubiont was doing it as a way to speak closely and quietly to Burald, away from prying ears of other soldiers.

“If you possess the mental capacity to say nothing in response to what I’m going to try to tell you, you should put that into practice now. I’m only going to chance telling you these things once, so if you want to hear it you will remain silent until I am finished,” Heaucreubiont ordered.

“Bah…,” Burald grumbled, angry, but appearing to comply.

Heaucreubiont spoke quietly, not looking at Burald as they walked. “Nag’molada doesn’t like what you’ve seen. Something about this Emptiness. Apparently you went inside of the Crag of Mea without orders to do so. I’m not sure what it is you saw, or how you somehow ended up on Tavnazia, but you did. And frankly, you have a loud mouth. Combined with seeing things that Nag’molada doesn’t want to be out in the open, with your loud mouth, I can understand why he may want to be cautious.”

Burald was grinding his teeth so hard they were on the verge of cracking.

Heaucreubiont continued. “…but even that isn’t the biggest reason. You’ve been asking for the past year or so a lot of sensitive questions about the Archduke. About his lack of appearances lately. Same with his brother, and in fact, you have been implying that he was murdered by some adventurers… the same ones whose shack you had stayed at during your trip in Tavnazia. Your continuous pursuit of this topic is an issue that has only strained your relationship with the Duchy. Combined with your maintaining of—certain individuals of interest’s…–personal shack in Tavnazia, this brought even more attention to issue.”

Heaucreubiont separated from Burald, who had stopped walked, and Heaucreubiont took a couple steps ahead of Burald before turning and saying, “Look, I’m sure this is all just because of the current tenseness of the situation. I’m not sure what it is but something huge is going on with this Emptiness thing. Once it blows over, I’m sure the Ducal Guard will be welcoming you back into their force. Besides, your record shows that you haven’t taken a vacation day in over 20 years. It’s about time you got around to having some time off, no?”

Heaucreubiont turned and began to walk away before waiting for Burald to speak, expecting Burald would have nothing pleasant to say in response to this conversation. And he had already said too much.

Burald was clenching his fists so tightly that his hands began to ache. “So, they think that I’m in collusion with those punks,” he thought to himself. “And… Nag’molada… trying to bury the truth under deception. Well if it’s so impotant that I not be a member of the Jeunoan guard, then fine.”

“At least now the Duchy won’t need to answer for my actions…”