Nightfall in Meliora

The city hums with the restless energy of many lives intertwined—merchants haggling, children laughing, the weary sighs of laborers seeking respite. It is a place of purpose, yet even here, in the midst of the living, there are shadows.
 
Tonight, my thoughts are not on the coming battle, nor the looming threat at the Tri-Lakes. Instead, I find myself thinking of Lim Dul.
 
He is a man of iron will and sharp tongue, a blade honed by years of hardship. There is no softness in him, no patience for hope or sentiment. He does not share in my convictions, nor does he believe in the goodness of men. And yet, he remains by my side. He questions every choice I make, cynically picking apart my decisions, as if daring the world to prove him right in his belief that kindness is a fool’s errand.
 
But I have begun to understand something about him.
 
His scorn is not cruelty—it is armor. A shield forged through loss, betrayal, and pain. He looks at me and sees not just a leader, but a man who risks himself for ideals he believes unattainable. I think it frustrates him, not because he wishes me to fail, but because some part of him, buried beneath all the years of suffering, wants to believe I am right.
 
Lim Dul does not trust the world, yet he has not left us. He watches, he fights, he stays. I do not think it is merely pragmatism that keeps him with the Guilded Iron. If he truly believed everything was as futile as he claims, he would have walked his own path long ago.
 
Instead, he tests me.
 
Every challenge, every biting remark, every scathing critique—it is not to see me fall, but to see if I will stand. He scrutinizes my faith, not out of malice, but because he wants to know if it can endure. If it does, perhaps he, too, can begin to believe in something greater than himself.
 
I do not resent his words. If anything, I welcome them. He forces me to think deeper, to push myself further. If I am to be a beacon in the darkness, I cannot falter when my beliefs are questioned. And through his cynicism, he ensures I do not become complacent.
 
I will not try to change him. That is not my place. But I will continue to lead as I do, and if, one day, he sees the worth in what we fight for—not just survival, but true purpose—then perhaps he will find what he has long lost.
 
I hope, for his sake, that he does.
 
—Kemurial