The Lodestone

Tales from the Dawn

In Pursuit of Knowledge

Warrior of Light: Male<br />Warrior of Light: Male<br />Warrior of Light: Male<br />Warrior of Light: FemaleWarrior of Light: FemaleWarrior of Light: Female

"If you assist us, we shall share with you all we know."

So ended the letter which his fellow gleaner had delivered to him in snow-swept Ishgard. As Erenville regarded the signature of the petitioner, Krile Baldesion, he recalled the eclectic group that had greeted him in Labyrinthos. What's your story?

He was pondering the proposition in his lodgings when his linkpearl rang. It was the guild's administration officer, who launched into the shocking news before Erenville had the chance to speak.

"There's to be a great exodus! An exodus from the very star!"

In frantic tones, the man relayed the details of the Forum's announcement. The coming of the Final Days, as foretold by Hydaelyn, and the means by which they might escape: the moon. I knew they were hiding something. Even as he struggled to take it all in, he felt vindicated by the revelation.

"Time is of the essence! Do what you must and return to Sharlayan at once!"


Despite his best efforts, it took Erenville a full three days to return his animal charges to their natural habitats. Days during which he received unsettling reports of calamity and chaos in the Near East. Upon manifesting in the Sharlayan aetheryte plaza, he marched to the nearby Baldesion Annex, where he found Krile in the middle of a discussion with the receptionist.

"Tell me the details," he said, declaring himself and his purpose in one breath, as he thrust out the letter in front of him.

Krile stared at him, dumbstruck, but quickly gathered herself and obliged.

And what a fantastic tale it was. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn had uncovered not only the true history of the star, but the cause of the Final Days. And now they sought to forestall them, that all might be saved.

Erenville had always endeavored to cultivate a broader knowledge of the world, both for his work and for himself. He had, of course, heard about the Scions─their renowned champion not least of all. He had not, however, expected to send said champion on an errand to round up runaway marmots, nor to encounter him again shortly thereafter in the form of a toad. So this is how "adventurers" amuse themselves. But to now be privy to the Scions' knowledge and their purpose, he couldn't help but feel the smallness of his own.

Even within the limited scope of his experiences, there seemed to be no end to the star's mysteries. Krile's dizzying account made it plain that he hadn't even scratched the surface, and it pained him to imagine all those secrets left behind, never to see the light of day. All those stories forever untold.

"Tell me how I can help." The earnest plea tumbled from his mouth.

Krile's expression softened, and she proceeded to explain the role the Scions would have the gleaners' guildship play in the preparations for the maiden journey of Sharlayan's first starship.


The grand plan was swiftly set into motion. Employing their vast networks, Erenville and his fellow gleaners secured a large part of the manpower needed to enhance the vessel's aetherburner. Those who answered the call assembled at Scholar's Harbor before transporting supplies to the Central Circuit. There, they labored under the Forum's watchful eye to complete the massive ark that would fly to the very edge of the universe.

As the work entered the final stages, while the Loporrits' hyperhopper was brought in, the specimens that had previously been loaded onto the ark needed to be removed. Aided by the staff of Labyrinthos and members of the Ilsabard contingent, the gleaners tended to the arduous task, bearing load after load from Thaumazein to the Archeion.

Though Erenville was no stranger to heavy lifting, the sheer quantity of cargo soon left his muscles and joints screaming in protest. He had delivered another crate to the lift, and was vainly trying to stretch out the kinks in his back, when a weary voice called out to him.

"Pardon me, old boy." The young Elezen was clad in Ishgardian mail, and the gold trim of his collar marked him as a member of House Fortemps. The smirk narrowed it down further. He was bickering with that pirate at the harbor like they were old lovers. "I'm supposed to take this package to Kokkol's Forge, but I fear I'm hopelessly lost. Would you be so kind as to direct me?"

"Kokkol's, you say? In that case, you need to─" Erenville began, before thinking better of it. "Actually, I'll just deliver it."

"Truly? You're too kind─a veritable saint! My heartfelt thanks!"

His face beaming, the lad surrendered the package to Erenville. No sooner were his hands free than he placed them on his waist and arched backwards, groaning in relief. Erenville felt a tinge of guilt when he gestured to the nearby mountain of crates. "While I see to your package, mind taking care of this in my stead?"

The color drained from the lad's face as the enormity of his fresh burden sunk in. He slumped forward in defeat, groaning again for an altogether different reason.

"Fury take me... Had I known how hard this would be, I would have asked the dragons for help..."

That was an option? The war between man and dragon had ended, Erenville knew, but had relations already become so amicable that they would labor side by side? He considered asking about it—out of a professional and personal interest—but ultimately bit his tongue. His aversion to overly familiar individuals aside, there would be no future opportunities to engage with Dravanians should they fail to complete the ark.

A brisk walk saw him to the forge, where enhancements were being carried out on the aetherburner. The air was thick with the clanging of hammers and the chatter of engineers, punctuated by the barked orders of Kokkol Dankkol. Erenville handed the package to the first person who spared him a glance. As he watched it borne away, his eyes fell upon a yellow, bird-like creature coming from the other direction.

In the course of recruiting collaborators for their great project, Erenville had learned that it was a member of Garlond Ironworks. Whatever it is. Though he had been curious to know more, he hadn't found the right moment to ask. But if not now, then when?

The creature was accompanied by a Lalafellin engineer. Wedge, was it? Erenville began by exchanging casual pleasantries.

"Taking a hard-earned break?"

"No rest for the righteous, as the chief would say. The three of us are off on an errand." Wedge turned to the feathered enigma. "Isn't that right, Alpha?"

So that's its name. But who makes three? The diminutive, beetle-like machina at Alpha's heel was an altogether different mystery. Some manner of toy? Certainly doesn't appear designed for bearing cargo...

"Forgive me, but I've been wondering: what is Alpha, exactly?"

"Why, he's a member of the Ironworks."

"Ah, what I meant was, what manner of creature is he?"

"A chocobo, of course. What else could he be?"

Chocobos were a common sight across the Three Great Continents, having been domesticated long ago. There existed several major breeds, and Erenville could readily identify all of them. Apparently not... In all his years, he had never encountered a variety like this either in the wild or in a tome.

His brow furrowed, and in response Alpha gave Erenville an archetypal "kweh!"

"He does sound like a chocobo, I suppose..." Erenville conceded. He was trying to think of another question when the little machina suddenly rammed Wedge's leg, causing the engineer to jump with a start.

"Ack, the chief!" he blurted out, having been painfully reminded of his responsibilities. "We need to get going, I'm afraid, but it was nice talking to you."

And with that, Wedge hurried off, with Alpha flapping and the machina clanking along behind him, leaving the bewildered Erenville alone with his thoughts. As he watched the last of Alpha's plumage disappear from sight, he found himself unsatisfied. There must be an incredible story there...

It couldn't be ruled out that Alpha was an undescribed species; he himself had captured more than a few in his time. There were academics who were tasked with studying, classifying, and then naming such specimens, and they could doubtless do the same for Alpha.

But to what end...?

The Scions' discoveries were a stark reminder that truth has never been the province of a select few. Certainly not the Forum. Nor was the future set in stone, as the end of the thousand-year war between man and dragon demonstrated. Elementary and obvious conclusions, perhaps, yet they conspired to make him wax philosophical: how does one identify the unknown, and at what point does it become the known?

Think. Keep thinking, and you will find your answers. Your tale.

A passing engineer brushed against his shoulder, pulling Erenville out of his reverie. As the faces of those around him came into focus, he felt a newfound appreciation for their individuality. The cryptic yet colorful snatches of overheard conversations, amidst a vivid landscape that suddenly stood out in sharp relief.

There's so little I know... So much I've yet to learn...

The Scions must triumph, and he would do his part to make it so. With one last stretch and a deep breath, he moved on. The mountain isn't going to move itself.


Work on the ark continued at a breakneck pace, as if the busiest months of the year had been condensed into a week.

The Loporrits scrambled to and fro, picking their way between porters as they imparted their knowledge to attentive Sharlayan scholars. Careful urgency was the order of the day, and even members of the Forum could be seen moving with uncharacteristic haste as they oversaw the efforts. Kokkol's Forge remained a source of boisterous commotion, with its master bellowing orders in an ever-hoarser voice. Ironworks engineers were present in Thaumazein at all hours, toiling beside Hannish alchemists.

Keeping this massive workforce fed were family members and servants and the staff of the Last Stand, who prepared meals in bulk with ingredients sourced from Meryall Agronomics and the mitato. Nary a moment passed when coffee, chai, and nutritional supplements weren't being distributed. Blankets were set aside for those who needed rest, and weary workers gently laid them over their slumbering peers.

Eventually, the downpour subsided to a drizzle, and the gleaners began finding themselves free. By the time Erenville had made his last delivery, more than half his colleagues were idle. Nevertheless, they remained in Labyrinthos, ready to answer the call at a moment's notice.

Until one day, when the ringing of a bell echoed throughout the artificial sky. When from the scattered amplification devices, a crackling voice began to speak.

"Attention, everyone. This is Fourchenault Leveilleur." Hands halted their work and feet froze in their tracks. As all listened intently, Fourchenault thanked them for their tireless labors and many sacrifices. The ark's systems were undergoing inspection, he continued, and the city held its breath, uncertain whether this announcement would be cause for celebration or disappointment.

"...But the vessel itself stands completed. The stars are now within our reach."

Labyrinthos erupted into a chorus of cheers. Some laughed, some wept. Some shook hands, while others embraced. In their shared triumph, every soul rejoiced in their own way.

Erenville, for his part, only sighed in relief. To some, he may have even appeared indifferent, but the warmth that filled his breast was no less invigorating. We did it. With all his heart, he prayed that their hopes would reach the distant stars and deliver their own unto the morrow.

And sometimes, wishes come true.


The Final Days came and went, and peace returned to Sharlayan. On a morning much like any other, Erenville approached the Baldesion Annex. This time, however, he sought not to answer a petition, but to offer a proposal. In exchange for helping to rebuild the Students of Baldesion, he would request their assistance in restoring the archives to their proper order. While he was somewhat concerned he might be dragged into troublesome Scion business once more, deep down he almost hoped it would happen.

One day—perhaps when his part in their adventures is ended—he will lay to rest a long-deferred matter. That which had confronted him in his faraway home long before he took his new name, and chose to walk the gleaner's path.

With renewed purpose, he strode through the annex door to find Krile, who again received him with a surprised look.

Delight in their stories, but do not forget your own. For it is far from finished.

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