It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
So many stories go like this, and some tales are not meant to be told until it comes to an end, or in some cases, one volume of an arduously read history does and another begins. Many and more would go unknown and whole legends lost to the tides of antiquity were it not for those like me, a bard and a keeper of worthy memory.
I would tell you the tale of a troubled and oft troubling man; he who came to this realm under the name of Konner Kinkaid, born Ryo Akaime, a man who both tried to escape and held onto his roots so tightly that they bound others up in their sprawl on the other side of a vast ocean from whence the seeds of his life first unfurled. This tale comes from all he ever told me of himself, and my own experiences with him.
Bitter circumstances born of selfishness brought him first to Eorzean shores some years ago. Before then, he was a loyal retainer to a noble Doman family, a samurai of great talent, but arrogant enough to bed the noble Lord’s wife and, with her, sire a child believing no one would ever come to realize it, save for one trait this child inherited - her true father’s red eyes. And in his rage, the noble Lord slew his adulterous wife, and Ryo in retaliation slew the other retainers and servants of the house and set it ablaze to cover his escape. In so doing, he left his daughter behind, believing she perished in the fire or that his now former Lord and enemy had killed her as well.
He fled alone by way of ship out of port by night, and in casting off from his home land he also cast off his name, never to return. Or so he thought. Still adorned with a crimson kabuto adorned with the likeness of a crouched rabbit on top, the likes of which heretofore unseen on this realm, he arrived here and chose a new name. The helm would be the sole reminder of where he’d come from, an emblem of both his pride and his shame, and began forging a new life. His arrogance set aside, he made it a mission to help others who needed it, for he now knew what it meant to be alone.
“Hitoride wanai” - Not Alone - became the motto by which he founded the Order of the Sword and Rose, and many came who were drawn by its purpose and the hope it offered. I, too, crossed paths with this man after leaving a rained out stage one day, shortly after ceasing five summers of wandering. Oschon had made our paths to cross in Gridania.
And trial after trial did we endure. Many who came also went on their own ways after a time. I lost count of how many faces there were, and I’ve forgotten some of their names, but their tales will be told by others like me one day, for weal or for woe.
Among these trials, we stood fast against surviving members of his former clan who had pursued him from Othard. We prevailed over Shinku, a powerful fire demon sleeping in Konner’s sword. But what we did not always weather were ourselves and each other. The Order has been as a phoenix, burning and renewing itself time and again, but persevering, and Oschon has long since placed His wind at my heels again and sent me on a different path.
Now, at last - and so I’ve heard - as the eastern skies wax crimson, Ryo Akaime has parted from Eorzea to the land of his birth. Alone, mayhap, and if so contradicting the very foundation of his Order, but I would like to think his wife and their child were with him. Time will tell if Oschon will cross our paths again. There may be many red rabbits in Othard, but there will never be another in Eorzea like him.
Such is the way of things.
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