The Second Encounter — Wyrnzoen

Days passed. Maybe weeks. The city buzzed on without pause, but Finn remembered the moment clearly — the mistake, the misread, and most of all, the Marauder’s face as he walked away.

So when he found himself near the Marauder’s Guild, passing through on yet another Tonberry errand, he didn’t expect the past to greet him in person.

“Oi! Quiet shadow!”

Finn paused.

Standing at the steps of the guild was the same towering figure from the tavern — though without the scowl. Broad grin. Arm waving like an old friend. And this time, no tension in the air.

“Didn’t think I’d see ya again. Thought you’d vanished into the wind like a dram of cheap rum.”

Finn tilted his head, cautious. Silent.

The man stepped forward and extended a hand. “Name’s Wyrnzoen. Just joined proper. Don’t worry — I remember you.”

Finn’s hand hovered, then returned the gesture with slow precision. “I remember too.”

“Good!” Wyrnzoen laughed — genuinely, not sarcastically. “Then you’ll know you backed the wrong horse. But don’t worry — that brat’s got a real talent for making people feel sorry for him. Happens to the best of us.”

Finn expected a barb. A lecture. Instead, he got kindness.

And worse — understanding.

“You Got Good Instincts — Just Pointed the Wrong Way”

Wyrnzoen clapped Finn on the shoulder. It nearly knocked him sideways.

“You saw someone weak, and you stepped in. Can’t fault that. Shows you’ve got a spine under all that sneaking around.”

Finn blinked. “You’re… not angry?”

“Angry? Nah. Takes more than that to rattle me. Besides—” Wyrnzoen winked. “You’ve got good instincts. Just need to fine-tune where you point ’em.”

There was a pause.

Then came the question:
“You ever think about swinging something bigger than a knife? Maybe giving the Marauder’s Guild a shot?”

A Door Opens, Even If Not Entered

Finn didn’t laugh, but he did allow the smallest smirk. “I’ve seen the training yard. I’d need to swing three times just to hit the same spot you do once.”

Wyrnzoen shrugged. “Maybe. But strength’s not all muscle. It’s heart. And I think yours is in the right place — even if you don’t want anyone to know it.”

That hit harder than it should’ve.

Finn didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to lie. But he also didn’t want to dismiss the offer outright — not after Wyrnzoen’s grace, not with that small pit of guilt still quietly gnawing at him.

“…May I look around?”

“Course you can,” Wyrnzoen said, stepping aside. “Ain’t like we keep the axes secret.”

So Finn walked the training grounds. Watched the sparring. Listened to the laughter. Took note of the scars.

And for a moment — just one — he let himself imagine a life less quiet.