Had it really been three years since she last set her eyes on the iron gates of Ul'dah? The same rhetorical question kept bubbling up into her consciousness, along with a compilation of emotions, primarily composed of nervousness.
Osiria had deserted both her adventurer status as an archer in Gridania and, eventually, forsaken Gridania herself. She inwardly rolled her eyes at the idea of "finding oneself", but unfortunately there was no other way to describe the leave of absence she had taken.
Due to said absence and the subsequent rearrangement of her priorities, Osiria's rank in the Archer's Guild was gone, her friends spread between the three nations only gods knew where, and yet her drive to serve Eorzea remained as great as always. She had returned as soon as she'd heard of Eorzea's plight, how could she not? However, this time Osiria staked her claim in the city of Ul'dah, land of the silver tongued merchants, whose gates she strove to meet that on very day.
Things were different now, Osiria knew. The roads were more dangerous, the people more corrupt and the adventurers more plentiful. In her own mind, Osiria owed a great debt to Ul'dah, for it was there she discovered much about her own inner strength, the special spark that had led her back to Eorzea. She also knew the Pugilist's Guild would be her first stop inside the city.
Osiria nodded silently, as if to agree with her own conviction.
"Woah there!" the driver called. "We've arrived in Ul'dah! Get your gear, and get out! I've got another run to make today."
Osiria required very little additional prompting and, armed with nothing but the clothes on her back, she jumped out of the caravan and into the bleak desert heat. The white sand seemed to cook her the soles of her feet straight through her thin boots as though they were leather skillets.
"First things first," she noted. "A stop at the Adventurer's Guild."
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