Chapter Text
Rhalgr's Reach burns red, the rocky canyon's shadows deepening to crimson as the sun dips below the horizon.
With the war's end, the once constant, watchful bustle of the Reach has slowed. As the former home of the Resistance settles, rather than a constant hum of soldiers and footfall, you instead hear the splash of a distant waterfall amidst the growing chirp of vilekin, attracted to the myriad of lanterns that have roused to life with the advent of evening.
Witnessing the change firsthand, it is easy to understand why the followers of the Fists of Rhalgr utilized the Reach for meditation and training.
It is here that the Garlond Ironworks yet settles – and it is here you and yours return, once more beseeching their aid.
"You certainly don't ask much." Garlond jovially complains, but his smile reveals the churning, brilliant cogs of his mind working a new challenge in earnest. He puts a finger to his ear, making preparations through a private Ironworks linkpearl before turning back to you. "Though, you couldn't have come at a better time."
"Why's that?" G'raha Tia asks from your side, having accompanied you to discuss the task.
"It seems our troublesome old friend is in the area. I'll need something from him to complete your tool – but you know how stubborn he can be. If you were to come along and explain, I'm sure he'd be far more amenable."
You nod, understanding. "Lead the way."
The path through the Reach's ancient halls is a short one, Nero having taken his place in a nearby vacant workshop.
"That's not –" Even from outside you can hear Nero's disbelief, though you’ve more than an inkling.
"It seems someone beat us to him." Cid jests as he enters, waving, at your side.
"This has been puzzling me for ages, how could one such as you solve it so quickly. . ."
How Amon found him, you know not, but the pair attract trouble like a magnet individually – together, they are an omen for disaster.
Amon waves over his shoulder flippantly; wisely keeping his silence, there is a rare seriousness hidden beneath his demeanor that you find yourself unable to read. Like so many other aspects of behavior, Amon is yet a mystery, and you cannot but hope he will open his heart in time.
Expectedly, the brilliant stranger's apathy only further irritates Nero; Amon has made more progress on his Allagan pet project in minutes than Nero has in moons and behaves as if ‘twas no more difficult than boiling water.
For one such as him, perhaps it truly was no trouble.
"I guess it's no surprise that you would get along with Amon." G'raha chuckles, though his eyes widen at Nero's temporarily abandoned project, completed by the legendary technologist's hand. Approaching the cause of the fuss with awe, stars all but gleam in his eyes.
The room falls to such stillness that you would swear even the distant vilekin take part.
Nero's face contorts in a disbelieving sequence of emotions before glaring first at G'raha's back – then at Amon, who has taken his place at your side – before landing upon you.
You shrug.
"You spoiled the fun." Amon scolds the miqote Scion lightly.
"You can't be serious –" Nero at last breaks free of his stupor, turning his attentions to G'raha, who yet remains enamored by Amon's handiwork.
"We'll leave you to it." You smile warmly at Cid. "I hope you'll have news for us soon."
". . .Right." Cid barely acknowledges your hurried exit in the growing chaos.
"It was nice meeting you, though perhaps you should reaffirm your knowledge of the basics of Alla-"
You tug Amon from the doorway before he can further exacerbate the issue.
"It was kind of you to help him." You break the silence only once you've made your way past the bustle of the aetheryte plaza.
"I'd no intention of being kind. They'll need such a tool to successfully complete your request."
Your heart skips a beat;
He helped them for you.
"Then -" You don't hesitate. "Thank you."
Darkness at last having fully fallen on Ala Mhigo, you cannot discern Amon's immediate reaction save that he turns away with a light shrug.