When the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had told him of their excursion to another world entirely different from their own, he had accepted it as yet another item on the list of things he didn’t much understand and didn’t much want to understand. Their yammer about the reflections, source, and whatever else had lingered in his mind only so long as it remained pertinent to their present discussions, then it departed as information that was useless to him. Now, he found himself wondering if he should have paid more mind. It was the only point of reference he had for this sort of event. He’d come to in a place he had no recollection of, with no idea of how he’d arrived. Unlike what his friends had described, there was no mage standing over him to apologize for dragging him from his homeland. He was very much alone in the wilds. And that was the first thing he remembered after…he wasn’t sure. His mind was a labyrinth of hazy recollection and a vague sense of knowing that the last things he recalled clearly were from more than a short while ago. Someone or something had to have facilitated his travel. He was certain it was beyond his abilities to simply up and move from one world to another.

His expression tensed as the train of thought threatened to bring on a headache, as it always did. This was a question for the scholars- Y’shtola and Urianger. Hells, even Thancred would likely have a better time reasoning this one out. They were all Archons trained by Sharlean scholars. He was just a knight, his training devoted to swinging a lance and slaying creatures many times larger than himself. Well. At least it had gotten him somewhere in this new place. Even if he didn’t know where he was or how he’d gotten there, people seemed to be universally in need of fighters to fend off things they themselves had no skill to face.

He had come upon a merchant being accosted on the road, a sight so common that, for a moment, it almost seemed as though he were back in Eorzea. He had acted swiftly, and dealt with them before ascertaining the merchant’s well-being. According to the man, he had hired the same men to assist him in transporting his goods, only to be set upon once they were a fair way from possible aid. Estinien’s intervention had been a happy fortune for the merchant, who had paid him to accompany him instead. Seeing it as honest enough work and being in need of coin, he had accepted. It had been on their ride together that the merchant had asked him if he was a member of a mercenary guild. He had replied that he was not. The man suggested that, if he wanted to join a crew of the ‘right sort’, he had best look for the Dragonblades in Torensten.

After they parted ways, Estinien made his way to Torensten. It had taken him the entire journey to decide if he truly wanted to join a group of any sort. Usually, he preferred to work alone. After hearing about how they were the ‘right sort’, though, he was curious. And he did need money to survive. This might provide a steady source of income at the very least. A bit of asking around led him to the door of a two-story building. He gave it an appraising look before entering, deeming it hospitable enough not to be of worry.

Caius Dragelion