K'lyhia

[09-12-XX17] “Next, please.”

The customs officer’s voice was sharp and hurried. I stepped forward briskly and handed her my passport.

“Oh… oh…”

Her eyes flicked over the usual identification details:

Last Name: Queb
First Name: Ryl’a
Race: Miqo’te
Clan: Seekers of the Sun
Nameday: 10th Sun of the 2nd Umbral Moon
Guardian: Nymeia, the Spinner

“What is your purpose of entry? And your name… it is very uncommon for a Miqo’te. You are not of the A tribe? The Ryl tribe? Huh” ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) 

She sounded puzzled. I glanced up at her. She was a Seeker of the Sun like myself, with short pink hair cut in a bob and twin braids framing her face. She looked kind enough, though one can never be sure with customs officers. Rumor has it that much corruption stems from their control of the flow of goods and people. A small plaque on her desk read K’lyhia.

“I came from XXXXXX,” I replied, keeping my words brief to avoid further questions.

“I see. That explains your unusual name. Still, it may cause you trouble here. Eorzea isn’t exactly safe, especially for newcomers. You might even consider changing it legally… haha.”

I answered with nothing more than a curt nod.

“And this?” She lifted a folded paper. “A letter to the guildmaster? Unfortunately, he is rarely in. Tough luck for you. Do you truly wish to be an arcanist?”

“Yes,” I said quietly.

“Hm. It is not the most rewarding of professions, but… very well. You will find out soon enough.”

With a sharp motion, she stamped my passport.

“We shall meet again, one way or another. Welcome to Limsa Lominsa. May the Twelve guide you.”

I managed a weak smile before stepping past her desk and into Mealvaan’s Gate.