Oh... oh my. It's me. My husband made a carving of me. I don't... this... oh....

Damn the Balaur! Damn them! My husband was slain by those cowards without a moment's thought for the repercussions. I... I want them to pay!

Player, head to the northeast of the Twisted Land Research Expedition and you'll see Satra Troopers stationed there.

They were the ones who killed my husband. I want them dead. Crush their skulls into the dirt, and spit on their broken corpses!

Player: Accept.

He was never one for art, my husband. Too set on his training, too involved in the war effort. He had the handwriting of a child, you know.

I would always tease him for it, and he would always just look back with that sheepish grin of his. But for him to create something like this--it must have taken months!

Ah. It seems those wounds of mine weren't healed after all, eh? Haha... I mustn't cry.

Player: "I killed those Balaur for you."

Ah... thank you. And sorry for sending you out there for such a reckless cause.

I lost my temper, Player. I shouldn't have risked your life like that.