He had been a nervous wreck waiting for all of his guests to wake up. He knew each of them personally from well before the Fracturing. He’d seen Ta’k as a child when he still had his hands and wasn’t covered in multicolored bandages in observation of a vow of sorrow. Nor was he silent. Another, much tougher vow to accept… and carry out.

He had been there when Amberosin had first learned to “double jump” from her uncle Ragoth, who he happened to fancy quite a bit in those days. He also fancied her mother, Alicena, to a maddening degree. She’d always had the goggles. The scar on her face was new, as was the one on her back from the incision he made to drain her lungs.

Patri had been a friend and confidant since his earliest days at Lord White’s estate. They’d arrived upon the name of Patri’s guild together; Tainted. Just like everything else in Blancana. Both men had laughed in a drunken joy at the revelation. The first mark of their rebellion. Patri hadn’t looked anywhere near as aged then, in fact, he had been quite clean-cut and handsome with his mane of pitch back dreads. Now he was just more... homely. Pat just has more salt in his pepper is all! He laughed to himself in his small room, barely big enough for his bed or solitary metal box atop it. Patri’s shoulder had only taken an hour or so to clean and heal.

It had taken him a good few hours to get enough of the grime off of Korrin to even recognize her. Little baby Korrin?! What in the hell were you doing on top of Schuri’s? The eyepatch appeared to be entirely cosmetic as she still had both mismatched eyes, but he left it alone. Korrin’s leg, however, had taken the longest to remedy. A good four or five hours of continuous casting to ensure her bones and skin melded with the trallendust and another three hours spent making sure it didn’t reject.

He’d slept for a good day himself after patching them all up. When he awoke to a soft pre-dawn glow, a mixture of purple and white light cast from the mother moon Solas, he set out immediately on the task of crafting them a barge. It had to appear to be an exact replica of Blancana’s typical barge, brass railings and gold trim abound, even though he was only working with what he could find around him.... At one of Blancana’s city dumps. The end result was…. Less than perfect, but he was able to cast an illusion over the large floating base that made it seem perfect.

It had at least passed the quick inspections of a few patrols without raising any alarms. He figured his falsified papers probably helped out a bit in that regard, but he liked the idea that his craftsmanship had been good enough to fool White’s Guard.

None of his sleeping passengers had so much as stirred when he moved them to their new shared quarters on the barge. They all deserved the rest they were getting and he wouldn’t steal it from them by being careless with them, seeing as it may be their last good rest for a long time to come. So he’d spent his time alone, thinking of what to say and more importantly how to say it. He knew there was a ‘right’ way to go about this but with them all together at once, it was…. Complicated. He refused to split them up, partly for convenience sake, and partly because he wanted them to wake around friends; Korrin being the exception to that reason.

Just be yourself, you lovable bastard. Tell them the truth! That should be easy!

But it wasn’t. He had been literally everyone else he possibly could have been aside from himself for the past five years. It was as much an attempt to hide from himself as it was to hide from Lord White. His head hit the door to the other’s shared cabin with a thud as he sighed in an intimate defeat. This was a moment he had been looking forward to and dreading for so long now…. He didn’t know if he could handle it being real.

You have to handle it. You’re the only one who can. Suck it up. Tell them everything.

He knew he could spend the whole day arguing with himself on his side of the door but it would accomplish nothing and they’d wasted enough time. White’s plans were ever-advancing and he needed help to stop them. He’d tried alone before…. and failed.

Tell them the truth. “Right.”

He let out a long, quiet breath and stood tall with his best smile plastered on. Even his hair bounced with a feigned optimism as if it was in on his act. Once he was satisfied with his own mask of flesh, the man opened the door before him and stood in the middle of a decent-sized room made from knick knackery, and literal garbage, with four expertly crafted medical cots situated in each corner. None of his passenger-patient-friends had woken yet so he conjured up a chair using some of the metal from his garbage barge’s nearby columns. When no one stirred he took in a deep breath and practiced aloud;

“I have worn the suit of Fernwick the Whitesguard. I have worn the suit of Schuri the merchant. I have been hundreds of people over the past five years but I…” his heart was racing, pounding against his ribcage in a painful mutiny. It’s just your fucking name. Say it! “I… I am Mezir De Blancana and I need all of your help to kill my father.”

He was stunned by hearing his own words.

Again. “I am Mezir.”

He was smiling at the feeling of it rolling off of his lips before long.

***

Patri was the first one to wake up.

He awoke slowly at first, barely ruffling his thin cotton blanket and mumbling to himself. A few grumbles and groans later and Patri had finally opened his eyes, looking straight up at the ceiling of the barge. The Garbage Barge.

“Wha…. what in the names of all the holy fucking Legends?! This.. this has got to be one of the Seven Layers- Creator's cold blood I must have bit the dust. Oh man… oh no… this… wha-”

Mezir couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let out the loudest, hardest, most sincere laugh he had let out in a lifetime. Patri ranted and fumbled out of bed, wrapping his blanket about his legs and nearly tripping on a canister uprooted from the barge's shotty foundation. When Mezir saw what sat above Patri’s bed he couldn’t blame the man for his assumption; though it only made it more hilarious. Stationed directly above Patri’s cot was a medical mannequin missing half of its face with framework and tech hanging out of it’s empty eye socket.

Mezir nearly doubled over with streams of tears running down his cheeks.

“Oh- oh, fucking-shit Pat, ah!” He lost his breath and broke into another laughing fit.

Patri’s face blanched, then scrunched, and as color returned to his cheeks he began slowly walking towards Mezir.

“Carnelian skin like some gold shitting god-” Patri’s face was slowly relaxing, one might say his lips had the slightest upward curl- “off-putting eyes, eerily white as the snows that fall upon the Shard Lands,” his smile basically spread from ear to ear now and he was only a couple steps away from Mezir, “Big as shit now and with a new bushy beard to boot… but that curly as a Lady’s pubic hair and that perfect bastard smile of yours give you away you sonuvabitch!” Patri threw his arms around Mezir and squeezed him hard, laughing and sputtering out tears at the same time. Mezir held his dear friend close and cried along with him.

“Ever the wordsmith, old friend!”

“That better not be a jib about my age you spry fuck.” Patri blubber-chuckled snot onto Mezir’s shirt.

“I’m glad you woke up first Pat.”

“Aye, nothing like cut-rate entertainment first thing in the morning huh? Ole Pat always delivers, kid.” He pulled away from Mezir and looked up into his eyes, joy still red in his russet cheeks as he wiped his face. “I’ve got so many questions for you Mezir…. I don’t know where to even begin.” Patri’s gaze softened a little, became soberer. “So much has happened- and where have you been- oh, and Amberosin?! Mezir where is-” he caught sight of her cot and fell to his knees before plopping to his back. “Please tell me you came back to tell me it is time to retire. My heart can’t take this anymore.”

Mezir gave a hearty laugh and conjured up another chair next to his own. Patri laid on the ground for a minute letting his heart and mind settle before he crawled into his seat next to Mezir.

Dramatic as ever. He couldn’t help but smile at the old fool.

They sat there for a moment in silence, neither of them sure what to say, as if there was simply just too much for either of them to process. It was a weighted silence, but not awkward.

“I think it’s best if we wait for the others to get up before we start storytime Pat. You know how much I hate having to repeat myself.”

“Ha! As does half of the port district of Blancana you loxon-lunged freak!”

Their laughter resounded off the walls of the barge in harmony with the waves outside as they remembered one of their many nights spent out drinking near the port after one of Mezir’s endless assignments from Lord White. The exact details were hazy to the both of them but one thing was abundantly clear; Mezir had yelled in Patri’s ear at the top of his lungs, “I don’t want your damn nuts in my mouth, Patti!”

Mezir and Patri reminisced for nearly an hour before one of the others woke up.

To neither of their surprise, it was Amberosin who rolled out of her cot, stretched without a care in the world, and strutted over to where both men sat. Mezir was fairly certain he hadn’t healed her well enough for the incision in her back to be completely healed already but he didn’t say anything. It was her choice, after all. She had stared at Mezir with a serious expression on her face that he returned for a good thirty seconds before breaking into a huge grin and laughing with a slap on his knee, in duet with Patri’s own chuckles.

It seemed to be the laugh that had done it.

“Me…. Mezir? But… you’re huge and the beard and… who the fuck is walking around wearing your mask- wait. Wait. where the fuck have you been?!” No one was laughing anymore. Patri seemed downright scared.

Not exactly the reunion he had been hoping for. Then again, she had been a small child when he had last seen her. Mezir wasn’t exactly sure of who she was anymore, aside from the obvious angry badass that stood before him with a near snarl on her face.

“Please, Amb. Amberosin… I know there is a lot I need to explain but I… I can’t do that until everyone else is awake, yeah? I healed everyone a few days ago and Pat just woke up, so hopefully, those two will soon.” He gestured to Ta’k, who the others only knew as ‘Silent One’ according to Patri, and Korrin- who Patri had evidently referred to as ‘Eyepatch’.

Amberosin fumed for a minute before looking at Patri who shrugged, “All I know right now is I am alive and Mezir, the real Mezir, is the reason why I am alive.”

“Fine…. But can someone tell me why we are floating in a… garbage… prison?”

“It's a lovely barge that I made with recycled goods. I am quite proud.” Mezir chanced a smile in her direction. She seemed reluctant at first, but she bit.

“So it's a garbage… barge?”

“With a little bit of essence for an illusion, we look just like one of White’s barges.”

“Oh… so a garbage barge?”

“Yes, Amberosin. We are in a garbage barge.” Mezir grumbled.

“Watch it Amb, he’s touchy about his trash boat!”

Amberosin broke and cracked a smile before shaking her head and plopping down on the ground before them. “How's the quiet guy?” She peeked up at Mezir like a child waiting to hear about their sickly mother. It nearly broke his heart.

“Well… he drained himself entirely healing you, then siphoned a whole lot of essence from Noctra and lost it all in a moments notice… he probably has es-sickness, and he definitely hasn’t had any rest in a long time… so I did what I could but honestly, there's no telling until he wakes up. Oh, and he has a name… but I can’t tell you all without his permission.. So there's that.”

Why was this so awkward, so hard? He was general, he’d led an army, a rebellion! He’d ascended to the status of Legend all by his own merit and was trying to stop his father’s plans, a man many fancied a god among the rabble. Why was it so hard to tell someone you loved something that hurt?

They’re just words. Mezir thought rashly, … but how many times have my own words led men to their deaths? Mezir dropped to the ground in front of Amberosin.

“Let me rest up a little more and if he hasn’t stirred by tomorrow morning I’ll get back to work using everything that I know.” Mezir was staring her down, eye to goggled eye, so she knew he was serious.

“I give you my word. I will save him.”