A small flower-shaped insignia. There seems to be music coming from it. Among the members of the troupe was a charismatic swordswoman. Beautiful as the light on water, elegant as the chirping lark. Her every slash hummed a tune of the wind. The end of each song and dance was like the sun after the rain. Dust has since settled, and both the stage and life itself feel emptier for the absence of her music. Both her music and her sword were as lethal as they were beautiful. This was in keeping with the troupe's performances, which were intended for two very different audiences. For the audience of foes, the music drifted far beyond the stage.

An azure arrow fletching that has survived the test of time. The fletching seems to produce a tune as the arrow flies through air. The harpist of the troupe was also a skilled archer. Legend has it that he could lure the birds in the sky with his harp and then shoot them down with his arrows. It is said that he never looked at the sky while he was playing the harp to lure the birds. Some believed the reason was his harpist's arrogance, while his companion said it was his hunter's mercy. The ill-fated birds became the fletching of the harpist's arrows, and the sound of the harp became the birds' elegy.

The troupe's hourglass, which is also a harp. The tune becomes deeper with the passage of time. When the performance was coming to an end, the troupe would play this harp. As time passed, the tune of the harp became deeper. The sound of the harp dying down marked the end of the show. Everything has an end, and the troupe was no exception. One by one, each member of the troupe met their fate and their instruments were buried deep in the dust. As the harp fell silent, the final sound heard from the musical troupe was the faint trickle of sand as it slid down the hourglass one final time.

A strangely-shaped kettle that plays a wondrous tune as the water flows out. There was always music in the life of a Troupe member, even when drinking water. An ancient tale tells of a wandering troupe that roamed the land. For flutes they had swords, and for harps they had bows. They performed not only for friends, but also for foes. They traveled through the desert and set foot in the blazing Mare Jivari. The tune of the harp echoing in the kettle was a reminder for them. "Along with the boundless tunes we walk." "Wherever there is music, there is us."

A beautiful top hat untouched by time. Listening closely, one can almost hear an ancient tune echoing inside the hat. Thousands of years ago, a troupe wandered through the lands. The troupe owned not a single shred of sheet music. What they saw was what they sung, and what they heard was what they played. As time passed, the troupe gradually realized the vastness of the world. "There are so many things in the world for us to sing of." The members then turned the notes into words and recorded their journey in a book. This book, The Widsith as they called it, was still held tightly in the conductor's hands even after his death.