Ignis heard a lot of things these days. That was most of his experience with the world now, of course, after losing his sight -- but the world simply seemed to be abuzz with all sorts of different exciting information all of the time. From tell of dragons and strange people, religions he’d never heard of and languages he didn’t understand; there was simply much to take in. His day-by-day activities had become much more restricted than they once were, if he had to hazard a guess, but Ignis never let himself, nor his daggers, become dull.

A combination of adventure and luck had found the former royal retainer working as a chef on a small farm, in the valley just east of Mount Hotan. The family he worked for was quite kind, giving him a room with a warm bed to sleep in, compensation for his stay and work, and most of all; treating him as if he were still human. Ignis hadn’t been awake for long in this world, and adjusting to a world of no sight took time. People tended to avoid him in the cities as he tripped over uneven stones or spoke in the wrong direction to others. Worse even, they pitied him.

Someone had seen he still had sharp skills to use, and plenty of talent to use it. Thanks to the generosity of the Howsier family, Ignis Scientia had resharpened his culinary skills, and practiced his combat at night against the hay bales. He helped with every day farm tasks; caring for livestock, cleaning pens, laundry -- anything a typical person could do. Everything took a little longer to learn, but once he knew what he was doing, Iggy did what he did best, and perfected it.

However, after some weeks with the family, word of something interesting came to Ignis. He was peeling potatoes when the oldest son entered the kitchen, taking two steps in before Scientia stopped him with a quick, “Shoes first, Morris. Your mother will be quite upset if you track mud through her home.”

The young man, Morris, scowled openly as he began to kick his boots off. Ignis smirked as he heard the bits of hardened mud bouncing off of the dirt mat and onto the hardwood.

“Hey, this is hardworkin’ mud,” the teenager complained, with a touch of humor in his voice, “Ma should be happy I’m even here, Mr. Ignis. I could’a went on a trip with some of my friends.”

Without missing a beat, Ignis swapped out his perfectly peeled potato for a new tuber, an eyebrow raising with curiosity at the boy’s statement, “A trip with your friends, hm?"

“Yup. We were gonna go to the World Sight. It isn’t that far from here, y’know?”

The young man crossed the room, collecting a glass for water as Ignis continued his work at the sink. The World Sight? He’d only ever heard of such a thing through whispers on the streets in the city. Apparently, something had occurred there shortly before he’d arrived into this world. A pillar of light that, supposedly, called to people of all types. That was all he’d ever really heard about it, however. He found most people not keen on speaking with strangers.

Ignis tossed the potato in the air, catching it before it hit the bottom of the sink, “Dare I ask why your friends want to visit such a place?”

“Why wouldn’t we? After that whole big light thing--,” Morris paused, taking a drink of his water, clearing his voice before continuing, “Wait. I forget you ain’t been around here long. You can’t even see it out the window there.”

A thin smile spread across Scientia’s face, “Correct. I’d no idea it was even in viewing distance, until now.”

“Yeah, so,” Ignis heard the scrape of wood on wood as the teenager pulled out a chair at the table, his half-full glass of water hitting the table with a thud, “All the legends say that the World Sight is actually a tomb for some warrior of light from long, long ago, or somethin’ like that, right? Well, then the tower just shoots out a crazy light one day and suddenly all sorts’a people are flockin’ to it like bugs to a fire. Then, after a while, the light went away. I heard someone say that somethin’ done got took, but ain’t no one allowed to go up there, y’know? It’s protected by some real scary folk.”

Ignis scraped the skin from his current potato without trouble, despite how intently he was listening to the story. Something about it felt … strangely familiar. A tomb of a warrior -- why did that feel important to him? His heart quickened at the mention of it, and his mind was suddenly screaming at him that it was something important he was supposed to be doing. Not … cooking dinner. Finding this tomb. But, why? The blonde slid his finished potato into the second bowl, forcing his fingers to grab another to peel. He missed once, despite knowing exactly where the bowl was. He was too caught up in thought.

“Are you okay, Mr. Ignis?” Morris asked, still seated at the table, “You got awful silent all a sudden.”

“Right, yes,” Ignis acknowledged the check-in with a patient smile, working on his next tuber, “I was simply caught up in imagining this story, that’s all. Go wash up for dinner, will you? And call your brothers in as well.”

He spent the next few hours following dinner and clean up lost in the train of thought that led, well, really nowhere. It was a whim, a notion, a feeling that tugged on his heartstrings. Ignis exhaled harshly though his nose as he finished drying the dishes that evening, listening to the bugs of the valley chirp along their nightly songs. Logically, he felt that following such a strange calling with barely any evidence to his missing past would be a mistake. Though he felt comfortable in his own skin, for the most part, Ignis was still severely lacking in his normal grace. He struggled to tell apart night and day without sound cues. He couldn’t follow a map. He couldn’t easily defend himself against larger, dangerous creatures.

He had a life, here. A job, food, a place to sleep, a sense of belonging and yet …

His heart felt empty.

Ignis silently cursed himself as he led one of the Chocobos quietly out of the barn. Momo, a very intelligent girl, her feathers particularly coarse against his fingers just under her beak. She nipped appreciatively at the greens in his other hand, chirping. The blonde wasn’t sure how he knew the quickest way to saddle up a Chocobo, but he wasn’t in the mood to question that particular mystery of his past. In moments Momo was saddled up, and Ignis took his place on the bird. With what little he needed for the trip in the pack on his back, he nudged gently at the bird’s sides.

Forgive me, Howiser’s. I’ll beg for forgiveness upon my return.