It had been a while since you had struck down the vile Rykard, the head of Volcano Manor. Since then, the organization had collapsed utterly, and you were once again alone. You found yourself on a lonely, desolate path, on the very edge of the Western Tableland's cliffs. The sun was beginning to set, and the wind had begun to howl.

A deep melancholy had been gnawing at you as you rode deeper and deeper, yet it shattered almost immediately at the peculiar sight before you.

A village, populated entirely by Living Jars, the earthenware folk frolicking among beautiful fields of rare plants. Yet in one hut, you saw a glint of a most familiar tone of silver.

You approached, to find someone you'd never expect in a place like this, seemingly just relaxing, sat against a wall. Diallos Hoslow, the weak lordling, was here.

"Oh? My friend, it's been far too long. I have to say, you caught me at a rather low point."

"But...as you see, I've put all that behind me. Left the Volcano Manor. Forging my own path now. Making my own choices. Even a fool like me can look after some simple jars."

"Do you pity me? Well don't. I feel like for the first time in my life I'm on the straight and narrow."

He spoke in a tone of genuine contentedness you'd never expect from the man, looking up at you.