“WEEEEEESTER!”

A loud singsong voice cut through Wester’s comfy little office ambience like a cold knife. A cold DARK knife – there was something ugly behind its far too cheery tone, and he could feel droplets of sweat forming on his neck despite himself. I’ve heard this voice before.

And indeed he had.

A short sylvari with a shock of spiky hair was looking down at him with an aloof grin.

Bandi.

Oh spirits, he’d forgotten about Bandi.

He hadn’t heard him come in, and before Wester could say a word, the tiny plant was already making himself comfortable: casually leaning over Wester’s desk, propping his elbows onto its surface and carelessly knocking over a few figurines in the process. Wester opened his mouth to protest –

“Wait, no!” Bandi laughed. It was the kind of laugh that was a little too loud, a little too cheerful. “My bad, I mean Stein Steinson, right?”

Wester’s heart plunged deep into the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t heard that name in years. He shouldn’t have heard that name ever again! The cold sweat on his neck began to form into small rivers. Where did Bandi hear that name?! What was he after?! Why was he-?!

And then Wester remembered that night in the Wychmire Swamp, the humid air that clung to his clothes, the smell of mud and grass… and the words Bandi had said so nonchalantly at the time:

Tell me Wester, do you have any secrets?

And suddenly Wester realized exactly what this was about.

“Okay, okay” He said as calmly as he could muster.

Bandi didn’t seem to hear him.

And suddenly the playfulness in Bandi’s voice vanished, replaced with a tone of boredom and slight annoyance, like he was talking to a simpleton.“Darling, I just told you I was in Hoelbrak – where do you think I heard it?”

“Th-That’s-” Wester’s fingers began to shake, loosening their grip on Bandi’s coat.

“Honestly,”  The tiny plant slipped away from Wester with ease. “I don’t know how you norn expect t’keep any secrets. Yer whole culture’s built on gossip, bragging, and alcoholism!”

The norn’s mind raced – who back home told him? Who had he talked to?

“Ain’t nothin’ looser lipped than a drunk – never mind a braggart one! Or a bar full of ‘em, get me?”

He couldn’t have.

“What are you… saying?”

“I’m saying all I did was walk into a bar, drop a few lines about this norn fellow I work with – fabulous beard, bit nosey, and BAM! Every drunk wants t’fill me in on yer ‘legend.’”

He had.

Wester sunk back in his seat, shaking. “Y-You’re joking!”

“And let me tell you, what a legend!” Bandi laughed with newfound enthusiasm. “How has no one looked into this before now?! Did they just think yer too boring or somethin’?”

This was not the reason why. The reason was more so that Wester stayed ahead of the game, keeping people from digging into his past by digging into theirs first. He considered it a “social insurance” of sorts that got easier to keep the higher his rank got. But now…

“How much did you-?!” His shaking had worsened, fear quickly filling every corner of his mind.

“Not that I think yer boring. Quite the opposite!” Bandi reached for the figurines strewn about Wester’s desk and started arranging them in a line as he talked. “Yer ‘legend’? Hilarious! Did you really change yer name and join the Order to get away from your ex-wife?!” He paused in his arranging to give Wester a meaningful look. “She says hi by the way.”

“You spoke to Birna?!” Wester nearly jumped from his chair, his face painted in dread.

“Birna?” Bandi looked confused for a moment. Then a smile crept slowly across his face. “…I was talking about Ingvil.”