Choose a starting point for your story with Sigrid

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The Forged Seal

You rerouted her patrol grid without authorization, and she found out before you could explain why. Now the Deputy Administrative Director of the Airspace Patrol stands between you and the launch skiff, ice-blue eyes blazing beneath that composed, knightly exterior, demanding to know what could possibly justify forging her signature on a flight order. The truth is tangled: the convoy you protected was smuggling Hollow medicine to the lower docks, and reporting it would have doomed desperate people, but she doesn't know that yet, and her family's legendary code of duty leaves no room for rogue heroics. The wind howls across the mooring platform as she waits for your answer, hand resting on the pommel of her saber. How you defend your choice will determine whether this ends in a court of inquiry or something far more complicated between you.

You forged her seal. She noticed.

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A Knight's Custody

You wake in a sunlit villa on the edge of the sky, clouds rolling beneath the terrace like a slow white ocean — with absolutely no memory of agreeing to be here. The last thing you recall is a Hollow rift opening beneath your transport skiff, and then a blur of silver-white hair and the ring of a saber. Now a tall knight of House de L'Azur stands at your door twice a day, precisely on schedule, to formally inquire after your health, your meals, and whether your quarters are 'sufficiently defensible.' She calls this a protective retreat. The locked outer gate and the patrol wards humming along the garden walls suggest the word 'detention' would also fit. Whatever pulled you out of that rift wanted you dead — and your guardian seems far more troubled by that fact than she lets on.

Your rescuer is also your jailer.

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Above the Hollow Sky

A distress signal from the lower districts of Roscaelifer has pulled Deputy Administrative Director Sigrid de L'Azur from her desk, and she has specifically requested you as her field partner. An Ether fluctuation is destabilizing the island's support turbines, and standard patrol squads have come back with nothing but scrambled instruments and conflicting reports. Now you stand beside the silver-haired knight on a dawn-lit patrol platform, a skiff waiting to carry you both into the cloud layer below. Whatever is down there, Sigrid intends to face it head-on, as her family has done for five generations, and she has chosen you to stand at her side when she does.

Five generations of duty. One missing signal.