Chapter 1 - Chapter One

“I don’t have a home to return to,” Layla said, “so why is it so strange that I want to stay here?”

The roegadyn woman tapped a finger against her cheek as she watched her superior office pace from side to side. She was a miqo’te woman with wheat-orange hair that was marked with small patches of off-white stripes. Her small hard frame was bound up in a casual outfit of muted blues and whites that still looked as sharp and well-put together as a dress uniform. And her tail drooped down and swayed in what Layla could only guess was annoyance.

The sergeant stopped pacing and turned her full attention to Layla. She raised a hand to brush back her short cropped hair as an exasperated sigh tumbled out.

“Wh-what do you mean why’s it so strange?” the sergeant finally said. “Don’t you have friends or family or…someone special waiting for you?”

Layla shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s just me this season.”

The miqo’te stared at the roegadyn. She gestured with sharp sweeps of her tight tattooed arms.

“Ok but…why stay here? The barracks will be awfully lonely…so go somewhere else.”

“I have books. I will be just—” Layla said.

“No! Absolutely not!” the miqo’te shouted. She waggled an accusing finger. “You read enough! Go out there and do SOMETHING! Get laid. Pick a fight. Go home. Just don’t stay in the barracks. Least not on your own. By the Navigator’s entire ass,we’re likely the only off-duty recruits still here! So why is this an issue?”

Layla sighed and gave her superior officer a tired look. She then spoke with a voice that was faraway and melancholic yet calm and resolved. Her words were sincere and committed in both tone and meaning.

“Because it doesn’t matter if I leave or stay.” Layla said. “My family is too far away to visit. And most of my comrades will be back in the barracks in just two weeks. I can be alone with my own thoughts and that should be enough. If you order me to leave, then I’ll leave, but I’ll just read in whatever rooms are available at the Drowning Wench or at whatever roadside tavern I can stumble upon. At least here I can save my gil and won’t have to pack.”

The other woman leaned back until she rested against the nearest wall. She jammed her knuckles across her hip and pinched the bridge of her nose. Even without looking at the roegadyn, her posture felt like a glowering stare, especially as the fur on her tail bristled. She then sighed and gestured with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

“You are impossible!” the miqo'te finally concluded. “But suit yourself. If you want to be alone, then that’s on you. I hope I’m wrong, but you’ll come to regret it.”

The sergeant pushed off the wall, turned on her heel, and approached the door. She threw it open then stepped out of the barracks into a cool late autumn afternoon. The sergeant slammed the door behind her and stomped away until she was too far for Layla to hear her.

Layla stared at the door. Dozens of thoughts tumbled through her mind as she reflected on the conversation with her superior. She understood what it was that the miqo’te was saying, but she wondered if the other woman believed her. Or if it even mattered.

It wasn’t the first time someone had asked her about her home. Nor was it the first time someone got frustrated with her. It felt like a recurring joke in the stage play that was her life and she had grown numb to it all after all this time. Especially since she never considered herself as having a home of her own for most of her life.

Not because she didn’t try. The roegadyn had vivid memories of her life before the Umbral Calamity. The taste of too-hot vegetable soups was still on her mind along with the sounds of older relatives conversing around her. There was that wispy smell of fresh cut grass as well as the feel of dandelions brushing against her bare ankles. And who could ever forget the feel of comfy bed, thick wool blankets, and pillows over-stuffed with chocobo feathers?

But none of these memories felt “true”. She didn’t even know what true was until she became a mercenary soldier. And career soldiers didn’t have homes as most would think of them. Because they were always one order away from being deployed in lands too far away from anything that mattered. And that realization often left Layla to think…

Who has time for a home?