Chapter Text
It's impossible to spot the stranger outside of his room. Radahn thinks that by now, he's sent everyone he possibly could – his knights, his servants, his sweet medic – to remind his guest that he is not restricted to his room. And yet, the stranger seems to not believe them.
Radahn's visits to the room don't produce many fruitful results either. Upon his visits, he usually finds the stranger with his nose tucked in a book about the history and politics of The Lands Between. As much as it satisfies him that the stranger has finally given in to educating himself on his new environs, the sight usually has Radahn on the verge of tearing down the bedroom door. He would gladly explain history and politics himself within a fraction of the time it'd take to read those books, but his guest never seems interested in hearing it.
A servant is to bring food to his guest's room. On her way back to the kitchen, Radahn often stops her to inquire about his guest, and upon such, she shows him an empty plate. The stranger is eating, meaning he's still intending to survive despite what his pessimistic, passive behavior may suggest. Thank goodness for that. Radahn would shove his guest's face into a plate of food if needed to ensure he's well-fed.
Radahn's not learned much more about the stranger despite days having passed either, other than that this stranger typically awakens for the day before the sun does and that he seems to prefer dishes with lamb. None of which are of great interest at all to the Demigod. Radahn is still aware that his bargaining chip lingers just above his castle still, yes, but he also knows it should be used sparingly if trust is to be earned.
"It's certainly not possible for the dragon to have remained in the air for this long," Radahn now mentions to his most loyal knight, Ogha. "It's not immortal, is it? It will need to rest and replenish its strength eventually."
Ogha leans back in his chair with a shrug. "If it ever changes elevation, it's only been seen flying above the clouds, as you already know. Maybe that's to hide its tracks as it finds somewhere to rest. Give the illusion that it's more robust than it really is, perhaps."
"Could be." Radahn reaches for his bottle of mead and allows its contents to lightly burn his throat. His eyes focus on the beast, which seems to weave between the stars. He wonders if there's any meaning to its patterns. "What do you think either of them want?"
"To be left alone, most likely."
"You don't say," groans Radahn as he brings a hand to his face to rub his forehead.
Ogha responds with a snort. "Honestly, I'm just as puzzled as they probably are. Are you wanting to enlist them both as part of your forces? You've always been one to have people come to you, not the other way around. It's rather low of you to be the one on your knees begging them to join you— assuming that is why you're keeping them close."
"I am not 'on my knees,'" Radahn growls at his knight. May Ogha be damned for being well aware that honesty is praised and goes unpunished.
"Then what are you doing, exactly?"
That's the same question Radahn has been asking himself since the day he met his guest. His forces are already powerful enough; anyone would be foolish to challenge him and his men. While having the stranger join them wouldn't be unwelcome in the slightest, it's not at all necessary. Is it companionship he wants, then? Certainly not. Again, not unwelcome but also unnecessary.
With Radahn still unsure of his goals, he takes another sip of his mead before giving the best answer he's come up with in these past days: "I just want to understand that strange man, and I know that dragon is the key to doing so. It's how I've gotten him to speak before, but threatening his beast won't do me any good in proving my lack of malintent. I can be more civil than that."
"Why not ask him to introduce you to his beast?"
Radahn scrunches his brows at the suggestion. He meets his knight's eyes but detects no sense of jesting within them. "What makes you think he'll agree to that?"
Ogha clicks his tongue. "How many times have you rambled on about Leonard without any of us asking?"
"You aren't serious..."
Ogha chuckles at his general's reaction before elaborating: "My point is, if you gain that dragon's trust, you'll raise your disposition with its rider. Animals are nowhere near as complicated as men, so working with the dragon should be much easier."
Well, the animal in question is also a dragon. Radahn must be desperate at this point, however (something that the Demigod would never admit to), because the idea of approaching such a beast doesn't seem so terrible of an idea right now.
"It's worth an attempt." Radahn submits with a groan.
"I'm glad you think so." Ogha rises from his seat. "I'll have your guest brought to you then. Maybe he can take my place as your drinking companion for tonight. I think I've consumed plenty already."
"Best of luck with that," calls Radahn as his knight parts ways.
Radahn releases another groan, turning his focus back to the dragon in the skies. Maybe this was just Ogha's excuse to get some space away from his general; he had probably grown bored of Radahn continuously making every talk about his guest and the dragon. In the general's defense, however, it's certainly not every day that dragon-riding kings present themselves as a challenge, whether physical or social.
"You wished to speak with me?"
Radahn nearly chokes on his drink when he eventually hears that voice of soft thunder. Sure enough, he cranes his neck to be met with the sight of his guest approaching him near-silently and elegantly like a murmur. Astounding for someone of such a large stature. The Demigod locks eyes with Ogha, who stands just a distance behind. Just what did you say to him to get him to agree, bastard?
Ogha can read his general's thoughts accurately; it's evident from the smug grin he sends Radahn's way before announcing: "I shall excuse myself then. Goodnight, General."
Radahn hardly processes the phenomenon of his circumstances, the only thing breaking him out of his shock being the chilling stare of his guest. He takes a moment to meet his eyes; they seem empty and disinterested as per usual. So, Radahn is quick to get to the point, lest he loses his guest's attention for good: "Would you be willing to have your beast lowered?"
The stranger narrows his eyes. "And why should I have him do that?"
"If I can't become familiar with you, I may as well try with the dragon." Radahn gestures a hand around them. "Do you see any weapons around me? I'm more than capable of brawling, yes, but your beast has the advantage of having a large mouth and claws to crush my bones." The stranger continues to stare, so Radahn stares back. "I swear upon my honor, your dragon will be safe."
With every passing second, Radahn feels his heart rate quickening. His guest could turn to walk back to his room at any minute, but until then, the general would have to wait in suspense for the stranger to make a decision.
After what feels like ages' worth, the stranger lifts the back of his hand to his face and presses his lips against one of his fingers. A sound akin to a small bird's call results from that, and Radahn realizes that one of his guest's rings must be a whistle of sorts. His assumption is confirmed as the sounds of wings beating subsequentially flood his ears. Remarkable that a sound barely audible can earn the dragon's attention.
Radahn looks upward to see the dragon having abandoned its prior activities to carefully lower itself just a distance away from the men. The stranger is quick to leave Radahn's side and join his beast, so Radahn decides to take a closer look as well. He can feel his guest's stare monitoring every movement of his muscle as he, too, takes a stand by the dragon's head. Once there, Radahn begins to extend his hand. "May I?"
"I'd rather you not."
Radahn withdraws his hand in compliance but snorts when the dragon turns its beak in the general's direction as if to reach back out. "I don't think he agrees. Perhaps he recognizes me as the one who freed him from his ropes."
When the stranger says nothing, Radahn reaches his hand back out to rub the dragon's beak. As he had expected, it's a rough texture, nothing like petting Leonard. The beast, however, seems to relax underneath the touch.
"What's his name?" asks Radahn.
"I'm not sure."
Radahn darts his gaze away from the dragon and toward the stranger. "Don't tell me both you and your beast are nameless."
The stranger shakes his head. "Dragons are smarter than we think. He likely does have a name of his own, but since we don't share the same language, I'll never know what it is. However, I've taken to calling him 'Enigma.'"
"'Enigma?'"
The stranger nods as he reaches to stroke one of the dragon's horns. "I've encountered dragons of all sorts throughout my life, and I've yet to meet another dragon quite like him. I'm not sure I'll ever completely understand him or how he came to be, nor am I a poet gifted with words to be capable of selecting something more fitting for a name."
"By that logic, what should I call you?" huffs Radahn. "And don't even think that I plan to be stooping down and calling you 'Your Majesty.' You're no king of mine, especially when you're in my establishment."
Radahn takes amusement as the stranger blinks in surprise from his words. He still has many things to get accustomed with if he's to continue staying with the Demigod warrior, bluntness being one of them. The guest bites his lips in thought before speaking just seconds later: "There are some who have labeled me as 'Faraam.' You may call me the same."
Radahn doesn't bother to conceal his scoff. "So, you do have a name! Why make everything so convoluted by shrouding yourself and your origins in mystery? It's pointless, and you'll find that I don't like pointlessness."
"I never intended to do so," mutters Faraam.
"Then why take so long to provide a name?"
"You wanted to call me something, so I gave you something to call me by. That does not make it my name, just like how 'Enigma' may not really be my companion's name."
Radahn holds in an exhale. This is progress, but it comes at the price of needless twists and turns.
"Come with me." Radahn forces himself away from the magnificent beast to return to the table he had been previously seated at. He takes his seat and sees that Faraam still stands by his dragon. He raises his drink as an emphasis. "You're not going to leave your host looking like a lone idiot, are you?"
After the passing of a moment, Faraam turns to face his beast. He seems to mutter something before slowly making his way to the table. The beast pushes itself upward and back into the sky as Faraam eases into Ogha's old seat. Radahn reaches for the tub of bottles and holds one out for Faraam to take.
The general snorts as his guest tilts his head at the drink. "It's not dreambrew if that's your concern."
Faraam raises a brow. "I have no idea what that is."
That's unsurprising in the slightest. "My point is that this is mead, not poison. Your dragon has permission to eat me if it's proven that I'm wrong."
"He doesn't need your permission to begin with." But Radahn's words must have been reassuring enough because Faraam immediately snatches the bottle to take a sip.
Radahn leans in when he notices Faraam's expression remains unchanged after the sip. "Well? What are your thoughts?"
"It's—"
"Speak truthfully. I respect honest men."
"... It's too acidic, and it could be sweeter." Faraam lowers his gaze after meeting Radahn's astonished expression. "Apologies."
Despite his insistence, Radahn hadn't expected Faraam to actually speak his mind. In fact, it comes as such a surprise that for the first time, he finds himself oddly thrilled to hear someone complain about his favorite drink. And the fact that this man was apologizing for disagreeing? If anyone's an enigma, it's this man.
"Why are you apologizing to me? I wasn't the one who brewed it." Radahn chuckles as Faraam takes another drink. "But it doesn't seem to me that you find it repulsive either."
When he receives no response, Radahn looks back up at the sky, watching as Enigma resumes his dancing with his newfound starry companions. "What makes it such that you would rather be nameless than accept a name others have given you?"
Instead of answering, Faraam returns the bottle to his lips and begins drinking. However, he seems to realize Radahn doesn't plan on spending the night without discussion. So, he sighs: "I was stripped of my birth name and banished from my kingdom a very long time ago. I know that I no longer deserve my old name, but I cannot help but feel attached to it anyway. That is why I have failed to accept another one."
"Given the crown, I can only presume you were king of your kingdom?" Radahn frowns. "You didn't fight back against your banishment as its king?"
"No, I accepted my expulsion and agreed to leave."
"But you're not at peace with it, correct?" Radahn notices Faraam curl his fingers back around his bottle, confirming his suspicion. "You can tolerate a condition without accepting it." Radahn nods at his guest's drink. "Just like you can take that mead despite finding it unpleasant."
"I've been in need of a drink for a while," defends Faraam. "I'm far too exhausted to be choosy."
Faraam hurriedly swings the bottle to his lips and chugs as if to preemptively drown out Radahn's next words. Radahn, however, doesn't give him that satisfaction and waits until Faraam parts from the bottle to speak.
"Why did you not challenge your kingdom's decision?" Radahn asks as his guest finally slams the bottle back on the table. It's almost half empty already.
"Because they considered my actions foolish, and I agreed with them."
"And what did you do that was so foolish?" Radahn shrugs as he sees Faraam stiffen in response. "I'm not interested in judging you; I am only curious about your origins."
"I have no care for what your judgment may be. It's only that the circumstances of it all are rather... complex." Faraam starts to rap his fingers along the tabletop. "From my understanding, these lands are unaffected by the overarching struggle of where I'm from. The laws of nature are different here, which has me questioning how I arrived here to begin with. I can now understand why you doubted the existence of my homeland."
Faraam reaches to take another swig of his drink, and Radahn counts the gulps before Faraam breaks free. Three gulps. "I digress, forgive me. As I meant to say, the status quo of my world's structure was… undergoing change, a change that threatened the glory and safety of my people. My father, both my predecessor and the founder of our kingdom, devised a plan to ensure this change could never be carried through. However, I realized this method's flaws and, eventually, my father's revolting worldview. So, during my reign, I attempted to impose an alternative to his solution."
"Was that your foolish action then?" Radahn quirks a brow. "How awful was it for you to receive such a negative reaction?"
"I proposed that we break free of our traditions and ally ourselves with our sworn enemies: the dragons." Faraam nods up at the patrolling dragon above. "As you can presume from my bond with Enigma, I was successful in earning the trust of the dragons, but it was precisely that as to why my own people deemed me a traitor." He reaches a hand up to his head, only stopping before his fingers can touch the rim of his crown. "As I have learned, I am only king so long as my people allow me to be king."
Then why still dress yourself as a king? But as much as Radahn questions such a thing, perhaps he already knows the answer. It's all Faraam has left of himself. He's already admitted he still holds some fondness for his birth name; likewise, his attire may symbolize his attachment to his beliefs.
"Your story interests me," Radahn finally speaks. "On the one hand, I heavily disagree with your decision to break tradition. We are taught to follow our elders because their wisdom results from their experience. Alternatives are overlooked for a reason; otherwise, the figures of our past surely would have selected them during their times. Why disrupt what already works?"
"You have no idea what kind of man my father was," hisses Faraam between sips.
"I'm not expecting you to elaborate and convince me that you were in the right of all this. Frankly, I don't care for whatever happens outside my watch." Radahn swallows a gulp of his own drink. "But that all being said, I find your expulsion tragic. To have your people turn against you? I've never worried about my men doing that to me, but I could imagine how... broken I'd feel if such a thing were to happen."
Radahn wants to punch himself for revealing such a thought. He never would have considered revealing a vulnerability, let alone to someone he barely knows. On the other hand... how ironic it is that he expects everyone but himself to be open and honest. "Did you really not have anyone who cared about you enough to stand by your side?"
"I..." Faraam stops. He parts his lips. Pauses again. He nods. "Do you remember when you had asked me why I was patrolling your castle, and I answered it was because of curiosity?"
"I do," recalls Radahn. "I was hoping you would elaborate on that, but your announcement regarding you not knowing who I am caught me off-guard."
"I was curious about the attire of your knights patrolling the castle," explains Faraam. "I was especially curious about you once you walked outside to join them. It's the way you dress. It's alarmingly similar to the apparel of someone I left behind at home."
"Is that so?" Radahn raises his brows. "And pray tell, what sort of connotation does this similarity have?"
"He... was someone special to me. Very special, actually."
"Very special? You know, when my followers refer to someone with such words, they usually refer to lovers and wives."
Faraam freezes before he can take another drink from his bottle. His head tilts slightly to look at Radahn. The table shakes as Faraam puts his drink back down. "I never had one before or after him," Faraam sighs. "For centuries, it was only him by my side."
"I see. I've never bothered getting attached to any of mine." Radahn snorts as a few fickle thoughts flicker in his mind. "...Unless she's particularly enjoyable in bed, then more than one night might be understandable. Regardless, I'm personally not interested in going any further beyond having a good time."
"I can't say the same for me. I would have liked to marry him if everything had been in my power." Faraam blinks quickly as he lowers his gaze. Radahn frowns. He's not on the verge of tears, is he? "But ultimately, nothing was. We only harmed each other in the end. I can forgive the damage inflicted on me, but I still can't forget how tightly he held onto me before I left, how his voice shook with every word."
Faraam seems to realize that if he grips his bottle any harder, he will surely break it. So, he relaxes his hand. "With those memories following me, I cannot find it within me to forgive myself for how much I hurt him. I don't think I ever will."
Radahn keeps his eyes peeled on Faraam, surprised by his sudden and willing openness. The alcohol must finally be influencing him; he's been consuming his drink quite quickly thus far. Nonetheless, this isn't quite the story Radahn wanted to get out of his guest, and he certainly didn't intend to get him drunk to get information out of him.
Radahn sighs after taking a sip of his own drink. It now tastes of guilt. "Exactly why I don't bother getting attached..." The general rotates his wrist, listening to the contents of his drink splash against their glass prison.
The silence that follows bothers Radahn. He wants to say something to alleviate these newfound tensions, but something within him fears that he'll only make it worse. Fear? Radahn bites his lip. No, it can't be fear. I fear very little.
The general hears Faraam shift beside him, and he takes relief in the break of silence. "I often…" Radahn can hear Faraam swallow what's probably a lump of sorrow down his throat. "I wonder if he's moved on from me. I think that's why I keep flying farther and farther away. It's easier to keep living if I have no means to learn the answer anyway."
"Do you even know what you'd want the answer to be?"
Faraam shoots something akin to a wounded glare in Radahn's direction. "Is it not obvious what I want it to be?"
"No, actually. Your reasoning is ambiguous." Radahn holds up a hand as Faraam opens his mouth to speak. He sips his guilt-flavored mead before continuing: "You could be fleeing because you want to escape the idea of him taking comfort in someone who isn't you. Or maybe, the way you see it, it'll be easier for him to carry on with his life if you're as far away from it as possible."
Faraam's expression softens, and he lowers his face to look back at his drink. "Then I suppose I don't know which it is I'm doing."
"I can give you the answer to that right now: do you want him to waste the rest of his days crestfallen and alone?"
Faraam jerks his head back toward Radahn, jaw lowered. "What sort of question is that?"
"It's a simple yes or no question is what it is," observes Radahn. "Do you then?"
"Obviously, I don't want that! He needs to be as content as he possibly can."
"Why so?"
"'Why so?' Because he..." Faraam pauses before letting out a frustrated groan. "Oh, I don't know. Because I think he deserves it. And don't you dare ask why I think that. I just know it so."
"Alright then." Radahn chuckles but stops quickly when he notices Faraam's gaze hardening. "Then what would you expect from him so he can have this contentment?"
"Heavens, how strong is this?" Faraam shakes what's left of his bottle. From the sounds of it, it's just over three-quarters empty. "Why am I entertaining these questions of yours or telling you anything about myself? Better yet, why do you care?"
"You have every right to keep quiet like you were doing before," reminds Radahn. "I already promised earlier your dragon will be safe, and I'm no liar."
Despite that reminder and his prior observations, Faraam continues with a sigh: "He should have someone by his side. Anyone he can talk to. Someone who can help him heal."
"Anyone? What if this someone takes the form of someone who gives him affection?"
"If he needs a lover to make that happen, I would be alright with that."
"You would be alright even if that lover isn't you?"
Faraam's answer doesn't come quickly this time. Instead, Faraam slowly breaks his sight away from Radahn. Radahn's not sure what he's looking at. It's not the table nor his drink, so it's probably something metaphorical and thus, invisible to the general.
"He will always have my heart," arrives Faraam's murmur of acceptance. "But it is up to him if he would like to keep it."
It comes as no surprise to Radahn when Faraam suddenly swipes his bottle to resume drowning his emotions away. He finds himself wanting to feel sympathy for his guest, but instead, another thought taunts him, one that he's rather eager to voice.
"You really are pitiful," Radahn finally admits. "And I don't mean that as an insult, believe me."
"Then what else could you possibly mean?" growls Faraam as he breaks away from the bottle, his voice returning to a more audible level.
"Well..." The general pauses. Then, he lets out a scoff. "Listen, plenty of people like the idea of having a lover. They like being able to claim that their lover is the most beautiful, the wealthiest, or the strongest. I've seen plenty of examples of these types of people. They're the type who would do anything to keep their lover close and chained like a prized possession, all because they believe they'd be reduced to nothing without that prize. Those types of people don't love their lover; they love that their lover can compensate for something they're lacking."
Radahn doesn't know where his words are even coming from. He certainly agrees with what he's saying, but he's never thought to reflect on his observations throughout his life. He continues: "Meanwhile, this man of yours could have been born the ugliest, weakest, most useless man in the world, but you'd annihilate kingdoms if it meant he'd even twitch the corner of his lip into a smile, wouldn't you? But that's not even the best part: you've just confirmed you'd be willing to hurt yourself if it meant he'd be better off."
"...What point are you trying to make?" Faraam's voice has lowered to a near whisper.
"Just that there aren't many people like you anymore, at least not here in The Lands." Radahn lifts his bottle to his mouth. "I find it refreshing to be able to meet your type."
When Faraam doesn't answer, Radahn shrugs and proceeds to sip his drink. He looks back up at the sky to watch the soaring dragon yet again. Is that dragon aware of how remarkable his companion is? A companion that is capable of loving and making sacrifices...
"...Thank you."
Faraam's sudden murmur piques Radahn's attention. "For what?" Radahn doesn't know why he's asking, given he already knows the answer.
"For…" Faraam waves his hand. "For... this. Perhaps I can finally sleep properly for once."
"Good. That's why it's important to not forget and, instead, reflect on the past, even if there are implications that hurt us."
"Even if I miraculously wanted to, I wouldn't be able to forget him." Faraam lifts his fingers to ghost over a particularly large scar along his cheekbone. "He left his signature right here."
"He left that on you?" Radahn had to quickly swallow his drink, or he would have choked on it. "Hah! You must have really pissed him off! Was this before or after he became your lover?"
"It was an accident," Faraam smiles gently. "Or at least, he says it was an accident. I believe him, though."
"Of course you would," Radahn shakes his head with a sigh. "You smitten ones are all the same."
Another batch of silence follows, but it's not as tense as the previous silences. Instead, it's a comforting blanket that fills the atmosphere with peace. It reminds Radahn of home. Not his home here in Caelid, however, but his childhood home in Liurnia, the home with his mother, father and siblings. It's something safe, and it's a soothing change of pace.
"He was very skilled with the spear; he dedicated his whole life to it."
Radahn turns to look back at Faraam. There he goes again with the unanticipated excess talk; it's likely a result of the alcohol as well, but at least the topic is on a lighter note this time. So, the general lets Faraam continue: "A clever man too, both in and out of the battlefield. Despite how overbearing he may have been when he'd bark an order or scold a knight, it made it all the more wonderful when he would unlock his heart for me and convey just how much he cared."
"What was his name?" Radahn finally asks.
Radahn braces himself to hear an excuse as to why this lover is also nameless, but such does not come. Instead, Faraam is quick to provide the answer: "Ornstein was his name."
"Ornstein," Radahn repeats the word. Just as strange of a name as 'Lordran' and 'Faraam.' He shrugs it off before resuming his drinking.
Just moments later, however, Faraam lets out a hum. A quiet sound, but one enough to garner the general's attention. Radahn raises a brow. "Something amusing?"
"I haven't spoken his name out loud in a very long time. I thought it would pain me to speak it after my banishment, but instead, I remember just how pleasant it sounds." Faraam lifts his bottle close to his lips but pauses before they can connect. The table and glass clink ever so gently as Faraam sets his bottle down and pushes it away. It's full by only a sip's worth. "I should utter it more often."
~
"General!" The voice of a young soldier, joined by a knock, sounds just outside Radahn's study. "It's done it! It's finally landed!"
Radahn blinks at the news. This shouldn't be a shock, given that he had seen the dragon land for himself last night, but it does anyway.
"Excuse me," Radahn blurts as he swings open the door and squirms around the flabbergasted soldier. As he makes his way to his castle's entrance, he comes across Ogha, who quickly approaches his general upon seeing him.
Radahn interrupts whatever Ogha had hoped to say: "I hear the dragon's landed."
"It has," the knight confirms. "And I see you successfully earned your guest's interest last night."
"Ah?"
"He's out there with it. I think he's intending to leave, but he wishes to have a word with you."
He wishes to have a word? Radahn grins as he shoves his way past Ogha. "Then I shall eagerly accept his request."
As he predicts, Faraam stands by the side of his dragon at the place of their duel. He's looking in Radahn's direction, suggesting that he had, indeed, been awaiting the general.
"Going so soon?" tuts Radahn as he finally takes his place by Faraam and the beast. "And I thought I could convince you to join my troops. Maybe even make you a second in command."
"It's an honor to have your appreciation." A small smile graces itself upon Faraam's lips. "However, given that you're not even making an effort to stop me as we speak, I think we both realize I don't belong here. So, I shall take my leave at once and return to the lands that host the order and laws I'm familiar with."
Radahn raises a brow. "You're not returning to Rodoran, are you?"
"Lordran," corrects Faraam. "And no, I'm not going to disrupt whatever amends have happened there since my departure, but I also don't wish to hide from the unknown anymore. If I may learn what's become of Ornstein by returning somewhat closer to home, I shall claim it at once."
"A respectable decision," nods Radahn. "Though, Ogha had told me you'd like a word with me before you leave."
"Yes. If you would be so kind as to hear me out, of course."
"Requesting permission to speak? That's new." Radahn snorts, finding himself strangely satisfied when Faraam exchanges his own small laugh. "Out with it then."
Faraam bites his lip. "I've not gotten to know you well enough to know if you're a good or bad person... but I'd like to believe you're good as I've learned much from you. I hope I am right in this, and if I am, I would like to wish great success for you and your men and that you will conquer whatever challenges may come your way."
"We always do," grins Radahn. "But I certainly won't decline your support. If, for some reason, you find yourself back in Caelid, my offer to have you join us will remain open."
Faraam hums. "That will be good to know. Farewell then, General," he holds out a hand, "and may the sun's light forever shine upon you."
"Well..." Radahn blinks as he accepts and shakes Faraam's hand. "I'm afraid that won't be possible once nightfall arrives, but I suppose I'll wish likewise to you."
"It's a saying from my home to convey respect or appreciation," chuckles Faraam as he releases his hold before hoisting himself onto Enigma's neck. "I realize it must sound strange to you; forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive; I figured that's what it meant." Radahn locks eyes once more with the former stranger. The once dull gold in his eyes now matches the gold of the sun. Hope. An enchanting sight. "Farewell, Faraam."
Radahn steps back so the dragon can flap its wings and launch into the skies. The morning sun reflects from Faraam's golds until those golds and their wearer disappear within the clouds. The man of Gravity chuckles to himself, but his words are for the man of Storm: "Likewise to you."