Always the Last Place You Look

«Master of Marksmanship

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Greetings, Forename! Have you become practiced at defeating your foes from a distance? With the range of our weapons, even skyborne dragons will learn to respect the threat posed by a trained machinist!
Despite the proven efficacy of our cannons and ballistas, however, many knights of Ishgard continue to eschew firearms in favor of the spear and the sword. Ah, the creaking chains of tradition. ...Hark! The very creaking I spoke of draws near!
<sniff> Ugh, this stifling heat and sulphurous stench─I can scarcely breathe. And worse, I can scarcely bear the sight of mine own son garbed in such filthy garments. Why must you persist in this infatuation with smithing, of all things?
'Tis called “machinistry,” Father. And you need not come at all if the air in the workshop so offends you.
Would that I could shed this onerous duty! But as manufactory chief, I must needs supervise its operations.
Supervise? You barely visit but once a moon, and relegate every management task to Fromelaut.
And what of it? Smithing is a commoner's profession...even as overseer is the role of a noble.

As one of the four founders of Ishgard, House Haillenarte enjoys a privileged position. But misfortune has waged a constant war of attrition on our forces, and our claim to that position grows weak. Thus must we attend to our duties with uncommon zeal─even duties as common as this one.


But we shall not suffer this mean predicament forever. No, my son, you will reclaim the honor of our family with spear in hand! You must needs become a knight of skill nonpareil, and bear our flag onto the field of battle.
Father, the face of war changes with each passing day. Soon will come a time when machinists shall form the bulk of our armies! Should you cling to these stagnant ideas of yours, you will be swept over by the wave that carries us forward!
I tire of your flights of fancy, Stephanivien. Without successes to back them, your arguments ring as empty as my treasure room.
The Holy See has announced a tourney. You will best serve your house by returning to the practice field, and thence claiming victory in the melee!
I regret that you were subject to our squabbles, but Father's attitude is sadly representative of the greater part of Ishgard's populace─their heads may as well be made from the stone of the city walls.

I have, however, designed a weapon of such brilliance, that the light of its potential will penetrate even the densest mind. Rostnsthal and Joye will accompany me to Raincatcher Gully to gather materials for the prototype─why don't you join us!?


Practicing your marksmanship in Ishgard will only invite suspicion and ridicule, and this is the perfect opportunity to receive further tutelage from Rostnsthal. That you might also train under the warm rays of La Noscea's sun is simply a fortuitous boon!


Join us in Raincatcher Gully if you wish to continue your training with Rostnsthal!
Got yerself dragged out 'ere as well, did ye? The boss said 'e needed some magitek part, an' I just 'ad to open me big gob about this Garlean wreck in the gully...

It's been rustin' 'ere for nigh on five years now, though, so any useful bits an' bobs was likely stripped out long ago.


But seein' as we've trekked all this bloody way, we might as well see 'ow far ye've come in yer shootin'. Go say 'ello to the other two, an' keep 'em safe while they concentrate on their scroungin'.


There's all sorts o' nasties wanderin' about the place. Shoot whatever comes close to the boss an' Joye, an' I'll call that yer next evaluation.
Ah, you came! Splendid! Though I am afraid the rewards have yet to meet the risks of this monster-infested crash site. ...And speaking of monsters!
Nicely done, Forename! Now, I must return to the search...
Practicin' yer marksmanship, are you? Maybe I'll have half a moment's peace to look for this part while you watch me back. ...Ugh, not again! Take care of that, would you, Forename?
Nice shootin', Forename. Now, if only we could find his lordship's part, I might get back to me own trainin'...
Ye've been workin' at those shots, 'aven't ye, lad? I'd say yer good an' ready to─ Bloody 'ells, that's a big one! Yer up, Forename!

Aye, nice form, lad. Tightly grouped shots. Now, was it just me eyes playin' tricks, or did summat other than guts drop outta that thing's belly?


Hmmm... Looks like a bit o' machinery. The boss'd 'ave a better idea than me.


Go show that part ye found to Stephanivien. Might be as 'e can make some use of it.
Confound it. All this way, and naught to show for it...aside from your obvious improvements in marksmanship, of course! Hm? What's that you have there?

...And this spilled out along with the creature's innards, you say? Extraordinary.


...By the Fury, do you know what this is!? You've found the very component I was searching for!
That's wonderful, me lordship!
Our fortunes took a turn for the better the moment you walked through the workshop doors, Forename!
Findin' a rare magitek part in a beast's belly ain't fortune─that's bloody sorcery...
Or, so I'd think if I didn't see ye shoot the damn thing with me own two eyes. Nice work there, by the way, Forename.
I can already hear the whirring of my invention come to life! Come, we must return to the manufactory at once!
That truly was a stroke of luck, Forename. With that wretchedly rare gyroscope in hand, 'twill only be a matter of time until I have a working prototype!
Instead of twiddling your thumbs until its completion, however, you shall have your hands full mastering a new skill─Rostnsthal bade me pass on to you the particulars of Clean Shot. Train hard, my friend!