"You speak as if you lived through all that, but... generations? How old are you? What was the Tablet of Destiny?"

The bits of history were fascinating, nothing like the dry, Empire-mandated lessons Kirin had heard once upon a time. Those spoke only of the glory of the Empire, and a brief, scathing bit on the uprising of the rebels--but here in Corone, just outside his home, he was learning of an entire group, people who had shaped history.

If he wasn't mistaken, a living piece of history sat in front of him.

"Sei sounds like quite the man. Will you tell me about him?"

He waved off Lorenor's apology about his father. There was nothing he, or indeed anyone, could do, and Kirin had long given up caring about his heritage. He would be what he could make of himself, and where he came from had little to do with that.

He stood and stretched, feeling the deep ache of healing muscles and the gentle pull of his injuries. Warmth suffused his now-filled stomach, and he settled down against the wall again with a feeling of deep satisfaction foreign to the restless young man.

"Why isn't it safe? What is out there? Other than the ash. And the Elves, I guess."

Kirin drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on them, watching his companion's brilliant blue eyes.