Mocho wasn’t fully convinced that Amon had really met with the Flame General, Pipin Tarupin himself. But the Bard recounted the meeting, and had returned with some very specific advice – to seek out a man named Jenlyns in Ul’dah.

He was somewhat flattered that in the midst of speaking with such a prominent figure, the Bard had thought to ask about something that would benefit someone else. Every now and then, Amon surprised him like that. Those were the times it was hard to believe in all the dark stories that circled the Elezen’s past.

When Mocho found him in the infirmary, he was propped up in bed looking all sorts of bored. In fact, Amon almost seemed to be glad to have company, even if it was someone who had once spied on him. Of course, “spy” was a pretty harsh word for what the Lalafell had done, and strangely, it seemed the Elezen had understood his situation without much explanation.

“Hail, Amon!” Mocho greeted. “May I come in?”

“Aye. ‘Tis a public place,” the Bard shrugged noncommittally.

“I heard you were here and decided to stop for a visit.”

This earned an eyebrow lift. “Oh?”

“Yes, in fact, I came to thank you,” Mocho cut right to the chase.

Amon tilted his head slightly with a pondering look. “For what?”

“Well,” the Lalafell pulled up a stool and plopped himself down. “It just so happens that I’ve returned from Ul’dah. I sought out the man you suggested – Jenlyns.”

“I see. How’d that go?”

Mocho peered down for a moment, a bit abashed. “Actually. I’m not sure how, but I was accepted.”

Amon straightened a bit at this, knowing the importance of the statement. “Then you’re…”

“In training, but yes. I’m a step closer to becoming a free Paladin,” he smiled.

“Oh, aye?” The Elezen said with a long, hearty laugh.