Felih had been proud to call Francel a friend, in times past. But since the death of their mutually beloved Haurchefant, Felih found it harder and harder to face it. How could he ever apologize enough? How could he look Francel in the eye, knowing he was the reason Francel's best friend now lied cold and still in a tomb, with only the monument and memories left of him?

He comes, now and then, to offer flowers. Not Nymeia lilies- Felih can't bear the sight of the things these days, he's seen far too many of them on far too many graves, too many bodies. He seems to bring death wherever he goes.

Curse Nymeia and her threads of fate.

He brings flowers from all over the world, colorful, unique, pretty- something he hopes Haurchefant would've liked to see. All the flowers he never got to see in life, because they never did get to go out on that adventure together, did they?

The ring feels like a heavy weight on the chain around his neck.

"Yes," Felih murmurs in response. Dependable, lovely Aymeric- of course he passed on reports of their endeavors in Gyr Abania. "We did have a good hand in liberating them both, but I care little for titles these days."

There's another silence Felih doesn't know how to fill- but he cares for Francel still, and so the question that follows is sincere, if timid. "...how have you been faring, these days?"