As far as Strohl knew, you were dead. Consumed by the flames, destroyed by that monster— just like everyone and everything else in that village had been, all those years ago. And damn did he hate himself for not being able to save his precious sibling.

Just like the rest he held dear, you were gone.

Well... he thought so. He had to thank whatever higher power there may be— because somehow, miraculously, you were alive.

In the Grand Trad, he was wandering aimlessly while waiting for his captain to get done with whatever it was he got into during the day.

While his eyes roamed the crowds, he spotted a familiar face— he didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but it looked just like you, maybe...

“Excuse me—”

While walking about the streets, going about your daily business— a man had approached you. He looked so, so, painfully familiar, and yet you couldn’t quite tell who he might be. Where have you seen that face...?

“I don’t mean to be a bother, but, are you perchance from Halia?”