I never thought of it that way, but you’re right, of course. Maybe now that the war is over, we can use those stories to start mending that divide. We’re all just stories in the end, aren’t we? If we tell the stories of the Almyran people in Fodlan, and those of the Fodlani people in Almyra, maybe everyone will begin to realize we’re not so different after all.

[ Just as noble men and women aren’t so different from commoners. Dorothea sighs, frowning contemplatively. There’s... a lot to unpack there. ]

The Church... all I can say is that I hope the Professor does better with it than Rhea did. The Church’s obsession with crests is... well, you know that I‘m a commoner, that I lived in poverty on the street. The truth is that my father... he was a nobleman. I met him once at the Mittelfrank. [ Her brow furrows, but only the slightest pinch. There are layers to her private pain, memories that feel like a punch to the gut every time she so much as considers them. Still, she uncovered one of his secrets; it feels fair to share a bit of herself with him. ] He told me that he threw away his daughter—he threw me away because I was born without a crest. I can’t tell you what I felt that night. I saw stars.

[ That’s only part of the story, of course, but a table in a pleasant little cafe like this is hardly the place to divulge the uglier parts of her history. Sitting up a little straighter, Dorothea shakes out her hair and then relaxes, letting go of the past for now to enjoy the company of her friend in the present. ]

I don’t know about you, but I could use that tea about now. What say we place our order?