Said youngest - a girl of around fourteen with a silver chocobo charm around her neck - shakes her head fiercely.

"Golly, no, that would be really flashy. Chocobo feathers sell at five-hundred gil a feather."

Her mother leans over her with a plate of turkish delight, offering it - whether that be one or the plate entire - to Autor. "Do try one! They're marvellous, you don't get them like this anywhere other than Rabanastre."