"'Ello, sweetheart," the garrison soldier slurred as he trudged toward Lyra.

Refusing to make eye contact, she tried to walk away. She didn't want to go far because Clive would be done talking with the soldiers at the barracks soon. However, the drunken soldier grabbed her arm and shoved her against a wall. The force he used caused her back to ache. She grimaced when all she could smell was alcohol. The sun was only beginning to set and this man was already drunk.

"You must be one of the Veil's newest lasses," the soldier smirked. "I must say, ye are the finest lady they 'ave to offer."

Lyra rolled her eyes. Now she understood just how difficult it was to be a courtesan. There's no way she could deal with drunken men like this every day. When she saw his hand drifting toward the hem of her dress, she immediately grabbed it and pulled it away. "I am no courtesan. If you wish to find a lady to lay with, head directly to the Veil."

The drunken soldier just laughed. "You can't fool me. All the pretty ones in this shite-stain of a place are courtesans."

"I'm fooling no one." Lyra couldn't use her magic to avoid causing a scene. If she did, it would cause an unavoidable mess. She would try her best to push him away without burning him. "Truly, I am no courtesan. Speak to the Dame yourself and she shall confirm this."

"Now, now." The soldier's other hand gravitated toward her face.

Before he could touch her cheek, she shoved him away with a sharp glare. She didn't dare give this man any more of her time. She walked down the street to get away from him in hopes of finding Isabelle at the Iron Flagon. She didn't make it far before the drunkard caught up.

This time, he was more violent and forceful. He shoved her against another wall. This time, it was much harsher. She gasped in pain from the impact, only to choke when the soldier's hand wrapped around her neck. It wasn't enough to hinder her breathing, but it kept her pinned to the wall. She grabbed his armor-cladded arm in a desperate attempt to free herself.

The soldier stepped closer to her, pressing his body against hers. His hand remained around her neck while the other one attempted to reach between her legs. Before it could, a sword was aimed at his throat.

Looking behind the soldier, Lyra saw an infuriated Clive. She didn't hear or see him until his blade was drawn. She stared wide-eyed at him.

"Remove your hands from her immediately," Clive threatened, his tone sharp.

Frightened by the blade, the soldier released Lyra and stepped away from her. When he slowly turned around and saw the brand on Clive's face, his fear vanished and he laughed. "A fuckin' Branded? The hell're you thinkin'?! I'll have your head for—!" He then saw the seal of the Dame and swallowed nervously. "Bloody hell..."

Clive was very tempted to drive his blade through the man's neck, but he restrained himself. "If the Dame were to hear you treated one of her guests in such a vile manner—"

The soldier started to panic. "All right! All right! Take her! She's all yours! Just please don't tell the Dame!"

"Then make yourself scarce before I personally see to punishing you myself," Clive growled. He watched the soldier run away before sheathing his sword. His glare vanished as his expression softened and was replaced with concern. Lyra hadn't said anything, which made him more worried. He closed the distance between them and reached a hand toward her neck. "Are you all right?"

Lyra has been shocked at his silent appearance that she didn't notice how quiet she was until now. "Yes. I'm glad you showed up when you did."

Clive gently touched her neck to check for any soreness or redness. He couldn't find anything but one thing—a scar. His eyes narrowed as his thumb traced over it. "This is..."

"Oh, the scar," she said. "It is from the blade of the imperial soldier who was ready to slit my throat at Phoenix Gate. If you hadn't done what you did, I would have surely been killed."

Silently, Clive moved both hands to her cheeks. He remembered what happened as clearly as day and how frightened he was of losing her. Without thinking, he stepped closer to her and pressed his body against hers, pinning her between him and the wall. A second later, he was leaning down and kissing her.

Lyra kissed him back, her hands resting on his chest. She gripped the front of his shirt as the kiss grew in intensity. Alas, it was cut short when they heard the rowdy laughter of soldiers. She looked to see a group of garrison soldiers walking down the street. With them were a couple of courtesans.

Seeing their eyes were looking at them, she quickly covered Clive's brand to hide it. If the soldiers saw it, she feared they would react in a negative way due to their intimate position. She saw the group looking at them and watched until they were out of sight. She sighed and lowered her hand. "We should wait till we return to the hideaway to continue this."

Clive released her and stepped away. "I... Yes. Forgive me. I acted without thinking of the consequences."

She laughed at him. "It's all right. No harm done. I too was caught in the moment. How did the conversation with the soldiers go? Did you discover any new information?"

"We're looking for a garrison soldier by the name of Yannick. His last known location is Moore," Clive answered.

"So, we draw closer to the Holy Capital..." Lyra hummed. "Before leaving, we should inform Isabelle."

"I agree. To the Iron Flagon."

While walking up the street to the Iron Flagon, Lyra couldn't help but notice how much closer Clive was walking to her. She didn't say anything since they arrived at their destination. They found Isabelle and told her what they has learned about Tatienne.

"Oh, Tatienne. You could have told me..." Isabelle mumbled sorrowfully.

"This Yannick... The soldiers I spoke to believe he's in the village of Moore," Clive explained. "According to them, he claimed to have some business with a merchant there—though that wouldn't explain his continued absence."

"And you plan on traveling to Moore to ascertain the truth."

Clive was a little taken aback at her tone of voice. "Isn't that what you want?"

"Oh, it is. But I fear sending you there may cause more harm than good," the Dame explained. "The people of Moore are rather set in their ways. You'll find they have little love for Bearers. And they will not hesitate to report one such as you to the constabulary. But perhaps with Lyra at your side, it may be just enough to sway their gazes."

"Acting as Clive's mistress would possibly make the visit easier," Lyra commented.

"I believe it would. There is also a man in Moore who owes me a favor—more than one, in fact."

"We shall return as soon as we find something," Clive said.

Departing from the Iron Flagon, they travel down the road to the northern exit of Northreach. As they walked past the garrison soldiers standing watch, Lyra felt Clive closer than ever. His hand brushed against hers and she couldn't help but smile.

She was able to figure out why he was walking closer to her than usual. "Worried another soldier may mistake me for a courtesan again, hm?"

"I would not put it past them," Clive responded. "I'm prepared to draw my blade against them and act as your shield."

"I never imagined I would have Rosaria's finest Shield as my own," she said with a fond smile. "To be truthful, I never imagined I would need protection until now."

"Even the mighty gods require protection. In your weakened state, I shall do my duty to ensure your safety. However, I do not do it simply because it is necessary. I won't let any harm come to the woman I love."

His words made her heart flutter. She was about to respond when all of a sudden, they were shouted at by a well-dressed man standing next to a carriage. "You! Bearer! I called for you hours ago! Come over here!"

Lyra sighed in disgust. "Ignore him. We need to find Yannick and cannot afford to be sidetracked."

"I couldn't agree more. However..." Clive looked at the noblemen. "He's coming this way."

"Heavens..." She groaned. Stepping forward, she intercepted the man before he could speak to Clive. "Apologies, Sir, but we are quite busy at the moment. Our attention is—"

"Shut it!" the nobleman hissed. "Mistress or not, I require the service of your Branded. I'll make it worth your time. What is your price?"

"Nothing," she spat, already annoyed at his behavior. "We're leaving."

Alas, the nobleman was only angered. "How dare you?! Who is your family?! I demand to know! I'll make sure they hear of this!" He shoved his finger in her face, wiggling it as he yelled at her.

Clive did not appreciate this man's behavior. He stepped between Lyra and the nobleman, glaring at him.

Frightened by the man's glare, the nobleman backed down. "F-Fine! I'll just find another bloody Branded!"

Clive escorted Lyra away from the nobleman and his wagon.

The golden-haired woman couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, what an eventful day it has been, and it isn't even nighttime yet."

Walking past the golden fields of wheat, they soon reach the small village of Moore. They looked around for Bertrand, who was the man Isabelle spoke of. They found him shoveling fresh hay into the chocobo pens at the stable.

Approaching the man, Lyra took the lead knowing she needed to act as Clive's mistress. "Good evening. Are you Bertrand by chance? I am a friend of the Dame. She has sent me here on her behalf."

Bertrand heavily sighed. "Sounds about right. Only time I hear from her is when she wants something. What can I do for you, my lady?"

"The Dame has informed me of a missing courtesan and has asked me to find her. From what we learned, a soldier who may know where she went came to this village to meet with a trader."

The stablehand touched his face while in deep thought. "Many traders stop to peddle their wares on their way to the capital... But only one's been seen quarreling with a soldier."

"Has he left already?" she asked.

"The trader? Oh, no. Stubborn sod stood his ground till the soldier got tired of shouting from what I hear."

"Thank you for your help, Bertrand."

"Happy to help, my lady. But do be careful around this place with that Branded of yours. Folks round here would sooner hang a Branded than anything else," Bertrand said. "Even though he has the favor of the Dame and a mistress with him."

Lyra and Clive left the stablehand to search for the trader. While doing so, they could hear the whispers of the villagers. There were a few slandering her, but most of them were about Clive. She stopped walking and lowered her head in disbelief. Even after thirteen years, she wasn't used to hearing the foul comments people directed toward Bearers.

Clive saw her suddenly stop. He had to stop himself from touching her when he remembered where they were. "Lyra," he softly whispered her name.

She lifted her head and apologized. "I'm sorry. Even after all this time, I still have yet to grow accustomed to the slander." She did her best to tune out the villagers. "Regardless of my feelings, we need to find that trader. He should be somewhere around here."

Clive stared at her back as she walked ahead. He followed her, hoping it wouldn't be long until they'll be able to talk.

Finally, Lyra and Clive found the traveling trader.

"What's this? A Branded? Where's your master? Must I call for the constable?!" the man shouted before noticing the golden-haired woman. "Oh? Are you this Branded's mistress?"

"Yes," Lyra said. "We are here as liaisons for the Dame herself. Are you familiar with her?"

The trader was surprised to hear about Isabelle. "Wh-why...of course I have! I am the good lady's servant! Wh-what is it that she requires of me?"

"We've heard of your argument with a garrison soldier some time ago. I believe he had a scar over his eye."

The older man nodded. "Yes. Yes, that's right. He had a comb which he claimed was an antique—said he wanted to trade it for a newer one. But old though it was, an antique it most certainly was not—as I told him. Nevertheless, he insisted that it was of great value, and was quite vehement about my appraisal. I stood firm, however, and for all his bluster, he still purchased a new comb—albeit an inexpensive one."

"Did he mention where he was going?" Lyra asked.

"My customers aren't usually in the habit of telling me whither they are bound...but, as it happens, this one did. Yonder ruins, strange as it may sound."

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you for the information."

The trader smiled back at her. "Not at all, my lady! I would do anything for the Dame. Anything! Be sure and tell her, won't you? That I was helpful, I mean. Most helpful."

"So..." Lyra began as they walked away from the trader. "Yannick bought a comb before departing for the nearby ruins."

"To meet with Tatienne no less," Clive said. "And neither of them have yet to return."

"Then our next stop will be those ruins."

Lyra and Clive left Moore and headed north toward the Fallen ruins. It wasn't far from the village and they arrived minutes later. As they drew closer to the remains of the Fallen, a pungent odor wafted through the air.

Clive grimaced. "It smells of death here."

"Yes," Lyra mumbled. She then noticed movement ahead and saw wolves wandering the area. "Wolves... This cannot be good."

"We can't let them get any closer to the village."

"Agreed. Let's take them out."

Clive and Lyra used their strength and magic to make quick work of the wolves. They cleared the area and all was quiet. To their horror, they discovered two bloodied corpses.

"Damn it all... Bodies. A man and a woman..." Clive mumbled. "Well, the wolves have been busy... But the blood is long dry..."

Lyra fell to her knees to examine the bodies closer. She noticed an object on the ground and picked it up. It was a comb. She sighed sorrowfully as she glanced at the dead woman. "Tatienne..."

"If that's true, then the body next to hers will be Yannick's," a man said. "The girl Yannick went off to see every night. He said her name was Tatienne."

Lyra looked over her shoulder to see a garrison soldier had arrived. She stood up with the comb in her hand and became wary of the man.

Clive was also suspicious of him. "You." He placed himself slightly in front of her. "Did you follow us?"

"Now why would I do that?" The man retorted. "Unless you think I'd have good reason to? But no, I was sent to find Yannick. And by the looks of things, I have."

"We've all found who we were searching for," Clive replied before looking down at the bodies.

The soldier did the same. "He was a jealous sod. Couldn't stand the thought of his woman with someone else. Then one day, he sees her with a new comb. Thinks she's got herself a new gallant. Tells the garrison he's going to find the man and kill him. We know it's all talk, but then he disappears off to Moore for some "dealings," and doesn't come back."

"I understand now." Lyra stood up and showed the soldier the comb. "This comb was a gift to Tatienne from the Dame herself. It seems this entire situation was the result of a misunderstanding."

"Oh, Greagor..." The soldier sighed. "If only Yannick had bothered to ask, eh? He might not be rotting on a hill."

"I think he meant to ask her something else," Clive said. "He stole the old comb and bought her a new one in the hope they'd wed."

The soldier glanced at him. "Wed? Where would they have gone? Certainly not back to Northreach with the Dame waiting. And we all know what happens to deserters."

"A tragic end to a love story," Lyra mumbled.

"Indeed, it is," the garrison soldier agreed. "Tell the Dame I'm sorry for her loss. When the lads come to collect Yannick's body, I'll see that Tatienne is delivered to the Veil."

"Is that wise?" Clive inquired.

"Oh, there won't be any covering up this mess. The most we can hope for is that the Dame doesn't hold it against us. Speaking of which, I saw her in Moore just now. Could you tell her what happened? It might sound better coming from you both."

"We will," Lyra replied. She gripped the comb and left the ruins with Clive. As they made their way back to Moore, she gazed down sadly at the comb and mumbled, "Yannick jumped to conclusions and was blinded by jealousy... Though they have passed, they know eternal peace."

"We should give Isabelle the comb. Perhaps it will give her something to remember Tatienne by," Clive said.

"Good idea."

Back at Moore, they found Isabelle speaking to Bertrand. They pulled her aside once she was finishing talking to him to explain their findings.

Isabelle glanced at Clive. "You are still in one piece, I see. It seems having Lyra as your mistress has proven to be quite useful."

"Her aid is always invaluable," Clive replied.

"What of our friends?" Lyra asked.

"You will be pleased to hear that your companions have arrived," Isabelle answered. "They said they would meet you at a little chapel to the east of here."

"Thank you, but...you needn't have come all this way just to tell us," Clive replied. "We were on our way to see you."

Isabelle's eyes widen. "You... You found her then?"

Lyra and Clive glance at each other before telling the Dame about Tatienne and her untimely demise alongside Yannick.

Isabelle was overcome with sorrow. "I see... My dear Tatienne... It is by no means uncommon for a client to fall for a courtesan—especially a client who is young and far from home...but rarely do such tales have happy endings."

Lyra held out her hand to show the comb to the Dame. "We...found this next to Tatienne's body. Clive and I thought it would be appropriate to return it to you."

The Dame graciously took the comb. "Thank you for returning it. I shall see that it has a place on her pyre."

"We should go," Clive said.

"Before you do, I have one last gift. A token of my thanks," she replied. "The Veil counts among its patrons several high-ranking officers of the imperial army. According to one of the looser-tongued gentlemen, it would appear that the legions are planning to march south."

"Otto mentioned this to us before we arrived at Northreach," Lyra replied.

"Ah, but did he mention that it was all of the legions? This is no mere skirmish. Were I to guess, I'd say the emperor planned to abandon the capital. But that couldn't possibly be true, now, could it?" Isabelle glanced at the man. "Take care, Clive, and do watch over Lyra. She is quite the doll. A shame she won't become my newest girl, but I understand. She already has a wonderful gentleman at her side."

Clive crossed his arms. "I will."

"Talking as if I do not exist..." Lyra then smiled at the woman. "Farewell for now, Isabelle."

With their business concluded in Moore, Clive and Lyra left. They were traveling up the narrow path leading to the abandoned chapel when he suddenly came to a stop. Noticing this, she turned and gazed questioningly at him. "Is everything all right, Clive?"

He met her gaze and said what was on his mind. "Thank you, Lyra."

She was stunned at the sudden gratitude. "What's this all of a sudden?"

"I...feel like I don't say it enough. The favor for the Dame, I couldn't have done it without your help. As I am now..." Clive lowered his gaze and touched the brand on his cheek.

Lyra closed the little distance between them and grabbed the hand that was touching his cheek. "We live in a world where we are defined by our ability to wield magic. A mark is forced upon those who are deemed not normal simply because they are born with a gift to connect to the world. No one deserves to be treated as Bearers have been. There is so much more to a person than the mark forced upon them. I see the man who you truly are and what you're capable of. You haven't let this mark define you when others are blinded by it and do all in your power to help others regardless of how they see you."

Clive stared into her eyes, clinging to her words. He wasn't sure how to respond because of how happy she had made him.

She smiled as she let go of his hand. "There is much more I would like to say, but Cid and Jill are waiting for us. We also can't forget our sweet Torgal, either."

He snapped out of his reverie and nodded. "Right."

Eventually, they reached the end of the path and arrived at the small chapel. The entrance was boarded up, but the gate was unlocked. Clive opened it and they walked behind the chapel. They found Cid, Jill, and Torgal waiting for them.

With a happy bark, Torgal ran over to Lyra. She smiled and scratched the top of his head. "It's good to see you as well, Torgal. I hope your journey wasn't too arduous."

He barked again, almost as if replying to her.

"Any trouble on the way?" Clive asked.

"None worth mentioning," Jill answered. "What of you and Lyra?"

The golden-haired woman spoke up before Clive. "None we wish to discuss at this time."

Jill glanced at her curiously. "I cannot deny that I am interested in what happened during our time apart."

Cid was smirking widely as he looked between Lyra and Clive. "So, you two couldn't behave. I'm not surprised." He then elbowed the man. "It must be a true struggle to not touch such divinity."

Before Clive could respond, Lyra said, "Whatever dirty thoughts you think happened between me and Clive should be erased this instant. Nothing scandalous happened, if you must know."

Cid laughed. "Oh, I'm not buying it for a second. But I'll leave it at that for now."

Lyra crossed her arms. "With the affairs of others aside, why did you bring us here?"

"As I was telling Jill, it's worse than I thought. The capital's crawling with soldiers."

"And here I am, the deserter come home," Clive added. "Not to mention, Lyra is still a target."

"Which is why we'll be taking the back door." Cid turned to look across the way at the Holy Capital.

"Back door or not, the likelihood of someone recognizing me in Oriflamme is high," Lyra commented.

"Best go incognito," Cid said. "Once we're safely inside the city, it should be fine to change back."

Lyra's talismans spun around her and she transformed into a cat. She shook her body and sat on her hind legs. "So, where's this "back door" of yours?"

"Inside the chapel. There's an underground tunnel that will lead us directly into Oriflamme. Let's go."