A beacon that guides a traveler from afar. No matter where they are, the silver eagle always inclines toward a distant wind.
The verdant feather swirled as she sang gently, guiding the homecoming one to the other side, where the gentle wind blew.

"I don't care about where you came from, or what sins you might have committed. It's just..."
The "young master" (though he was not and could never be acknowledged as such) said as he wiped away the blood from her face.
"When the time comes for the winds of change to blow through this land, I want to have you by my side."
"I killed the falcon. Keep that a secret between us..."

Much as the kin-blood would in the future be spilled by a brutal lance and left to turn from red to black in the snow,
Her heart too was pierced, as if by an invisible arrow, when she perceived the real "young master" in her mind's eye.
From then on, she kept one eye on the things she had to do as a servant,
And another upon the "missions" that had to be accomplished for the vision he had described.
She dreamed of being by his side — no, even being in the crowd behind him would be alright,
If she could bathe in the winds — which she did not even comprehend — together with him, her real "young master."
For this purpose, there were a lot of nails and tenons that needed to be pulled out to cause the great edifice to topple...

"Don't mourn, Priscilla. Everything in this world comes at a price."
"Remember: if these matters are betrayed, light the beacon at Stormbearer Point."
"When the winds of change blow through these lands, we shall be its wild, howling vanguard, you and I."

"Yes, Master Eberhart."
Yes — she would forget bloodline and duty, forsake separation and the sickly heart.
Not many nails were left. The glories bygone would soon return.

But...
The family's falcons and hounds caught the plot's scent, and the silhouettes of sails were never sighted upon the cape.

At the last, she chuckled. Once, she had railed against her fate and the fate of countless others.
However, at this moment, when she looked up at the pale moonlight and the shadow of the swords that reflected it,
And as she gazed upon the mocking gaggle of nobles, she felt neither distress nor resentment — though she knew not why.

Not many nails are left. The glories bygone will soon return.
Young master, you will be like this silver eagle. You shall guide the hurricane.
Do not mourn for me. I shall soon be a wisp in a thousand winds...