When one looks upon the chronicles of history, those immovable tomes of ages past, one is certain to find the mark of a great many notable figures. Conquerors, pioneers, heroes─men and women whose lives serve to punctuate the endless passage of time. I am not one of them. No builder of nations, me, nor less a savior of the oppressed. I am but a humble engineer who had the good fortune to become the eighteenth president of Garlond Ironworks. For two hundred years now, we have kept alive the dream of “Freedom through Technology,” passing on the legacy of our predecessors to the next incumbent upon our retirement─save for one poor fellow, who died after three days in the role. In the end, however, the only name history will remember is that of Cid Garlond, our own appearing as mere footnotes to his legend. A legend we are only too happy to preserve.

Garlond Ironworks’ first home was a workshop in Revenant’s Toll, and I am told there was a time when people would flock from every corner of the realm to gaze upon its wonders. A stark contrast to our present operation. Our base now sits nestled in what remains of the Keeper of the Lake, a monument which both time and necessity have done much to diminish, a legion of scavengers having taken their pick of what the elements saw fit to spare. Indeed, the site is an utter shambles. And yet I can think of no better place for us to have set up shop. The surrounding lake serves as a natural obstacle to intruders, and the dragon whose sinuous frame still holds the whole hulking heap together is said to have shared a storied history with an old friend of the founder. In short, a site as apt as it is inaccessible.

It was there that our engineers and some few volunteers were enjoying a hard-earned rest. After several sleepless nights, work in the Crystal Tower was at last complete, and on the morrow it would be transported across time and space to another world─the First. Meager though our resources were, we had laid on a veritable feast to commemorate the occasion, and one and all had enjoyed the much-needed respite to the fullest. Indeed, many had reveled to exhaustion, choosing to sleep where they fell on the meeting hall floor.

Though I too should have been counting sheep, my mind was busy enumerating reasons to stay awake─which were, it assured me, many. And so I sat there, staring into the fire. Thankfully, I was not without company.

“I’ve always wondered,” I began, turning to regard my fellow insomniac. His crimson eyes seemed to glow in the firelight. A gift from the blood of Allagan royalty, he called them. A gift by which the Crystal Tower had borne him to us. In the morning, he would make another journey, this time bearing all our hopes and dreams for a better tomorrow with him. And though he had assured us it was a mission he gladly accepted, I could scarcely imagine the weight of that burden. There was so much I wished to tell him, but I put it aside to first ask a question that had long been burning in the back of my mind. “Why did you do it? Why did you stay behind in the Crystal Tower?” He blinked at me in disbelief before letting out a curt sigh. “You would ask me this now?” “Would you rather I asked you on the morrow?” I replied with a rather forced grin. “I understand you were the only one who could have done it, and hindsight has shown it to be the right choice. Were it not for you, our dreams would be just that. But you couldn’t have known that at the time. Not for sure. What if we had never opened the tower?” What a relief it was to finally speak the words aloud. I feared he would take them as little more than idle banter, but the thoughtful swishing of his tail suggested otherwise, as he returned his gaze to the fire. An age seemed to pass as we sat there in silence, but I knew my wait for an answer was over when a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It occurred to me then that he hadn’t been gazing into the fire, but through it, at something far brighter. “I would have slept for all eternity,” he laughed. “Which would, if nothing else, have been ironic. For it was only as the gates of the tower were closing behind me that I realized what it meant to awaken to one’s true purpose.” “Go on...” “In those days, I could but dream of being counted with the likes of Cid, Nero, Biggs, and Wedge─indeed, I would still give my right arm to achieve half of what they achieved...” He proceeded to paint a picture of our forebears as paragons of invention, able to race from concept to product in the time it would take him to put on his boots. And then he spoke of his mentor Rammbroes, head of the Sons of Saint Coinach, and of his pride at having been chosen to take part in the expedition to the Crystal Tower. He told me that the mission had taken a most unexpected turn when their party was joined by a pair of scholars named Doga and Unei─whom they later discovered to be clones born of Allagan technology which had lain dormant within the tower for millennia. Apparently, when the structure was unearthed in the chaos of the Seventh Umbral Calamity, the horrors within had awoken, prompting the pair to seek the aid of G'raha Tia and his companions in thwarting the dark designs of the tower's creator, one Emperor Xande. What began as a simple quest for knowledge thus became a grueling climb to the top of the tower, culminating in a battle with darkness itself. Yet far from laying claim to these feats, he was careful at every stage to recall the pivotal role played by the greatest hero of the age. One immortalized in song and script, and remembered to this very day. “Before me stood the very embodiment of heroism, the fables of my childhood made flesh. And in the light of so shining an example, I saw at last the part I had to play. How could I do aught but remain in the tower?” "Quite easily,” I chuckled, “were you and your exemplar not cut from the same cloth. Being of a rather less heroic disposition, however, I can tell you that my first act, having endured such an ordeal, would have been to go home to bed. But tell me...were you not scared?” “Of course I was. But courage is not the absence of fear.” He leaned back then, to stare up at the ceiling. “It is the triumph over it.” The roof, I should probably mention, was in the process of being repaired, and not without the odd gap. Clear nights offered small glimpses of the stars twinkling in the sky, and G’raha Tia seemed entranced by them as he continued to regale me with memories of days long past. “So long as we were together, whatever foe stood against us, whatever twist of fate conspired to undermine us, I believed with all my heart that there was nothing we could not do.” I went to speak, but when I glimpsed him gazing up at the heavens, his eyes full of steely resolve, I could only smile and wonder at what a fascinating life he had led. At how a single individual could affect the fates of so many. G’raha Tia, Cid, my grandfather, and the countless others who had given their all to see our plan come to fruition. Would the Warrior of Light have believed that so many lives could be changed? Or what inspiration others could take from so tragically foreshortened a tale? Whatever the answer, the hopes and dreams we had labored so long to keep alive would soon be realized. Even to think about it made my heart skip a beat. I cleared my throat. “And we have to keep believing. For a brighter future.” I proffered my hand in our customary manner, and G’raha Tia returned the gesture. “That we do, my friend. That we do.”

The following morning, the hour of his departure came at last. We stood upon the precipice of an unknown future, contemplating the promise of a tomorrow we would never see. Yet still we prayed. That our sacrifices had indeed sown the seeds of a better tomorrow. That at journey’s end, our departing friend might reap that joyous harvest too. We prayed as the Crystal Tower stirred to life, and vanished in a blinding flash of light.