I wanted to write in something resembling the big battle at the end of the trailer, because Heavensward’s trailer is one of my favourite trailers of all time, and that fight is exciting! My interpretation was also helped by listening to The Last Stand by Sabaton, which is about a different group of courageous-unto-death religious guys. Unlike those guys, the Ishgardians do survive though. It also gave me opportunity to insert shipping! Please let me know what you think!
I noticed when writing this chapter that my Miqo’te characters are overachievers compared to the others with the number of classes they’ve got. Oops!
Chapter 22: Guide Us to Victory
The tall grey halls of the throne room rose about Achiyo, austere and imposing. They were more austere – older, perhaps? – than the glimpse she had gotten of a vast cathedral filled with golden light higher up in the Vault. Cold light streamed down from pale arched windows, illuminating the venerable bearded man in his throne upon the dais. He was flanked by soldiers, a Heavens’ Ward knight, and Lord Commander Aymeric, but all of them stood upon the lower ground. She found the effect… lonely. Sultana Nanamo had never had so much separation between her people and her self.
Achiyo was dressed in her armour, for she had no finery suitable to meet the Archbishop of Ishgard, and behind her were Tam and Alphinaud, equally plain. She did not know why he wanted to meet with them; they had only received the invitation at breakfast and obeyed promptly.
The knight leading them to the Archbishop’s chair halted just before the dais and saluted. Aymeric stepped forward as the knight backed away. “Your Eminence, it is my honour to present to you three of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn: Lady Achiyo Kensaki, Master Alphinaud Leveilleur, and Master Tam Salmaiire.”
The old man slowly looked up from under his great bushy eyebrows, and spoke with a sonorous voice. “I have heard the tales of your many grand endeavours. The Lord Commander has also been most effusive in his praise.”
Achiyo bowed. “You honour us, my lord.” Tam might make fun of all the honour being tossed around, but was it not so? They were but new-come to the city, and surely had not done anything so remarkable as to warrant the attention of her ruler yet.
“I am Thordan the Seventh, Archbishop of the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, and I bade you come here that I might offer my personal apologies.” He gestured to his throne. “You will forgive me for not calling upon you as courtesy would dictate, but as you can see, my more spritely days are long behind me. But I digress. You were wrongly accused of heresy and subjected to gross indignities. This, I am sorry to say, was the result of negligence on the part of our nation’s protectors – negligence born of an excess of zeal. Is that not so, Ser Zephirin?”
Tam stirred, and Achiyo looked up at him to find him frowning. But the frown smoothed away almost as she caught it; whether Tam had decided not to worry about it, or were simply hiding his reaction, she didn’t know.
“Yes, Your Eminence,” said the Heavens’ Ward knight, a young man with golden hair and stern eyes. “Regrettably, it would appear that we of the Heavens’ Ward were in receipt of erroneous information.” He met their eyes levelly. “Ser Grinnaux has ever been headstrong. He pressed charges before the truth had been ascertained, for which I most sincerely apologize.”
Achiyo swallowed a flash of anger. Alphinaud, Tataru, and Tam might have been killed for that man’s presumption. But regardless of what the truth was or how she perceived it, this was not the time to take offense. She bowed again. “We accept your apology, ser.”
“An unfortunate misunderstanding born of an earnest desire to serve Ishgard… but one which should never have occurred,” said the Archbishop. “For who could doubt the character of those who bested Shiva and drove the Horde from the Steps of Faith? Not I, that much is certain.” He paused, then turned to his knights. “That will be all, Ser Zephirin. I would speak with our guests in private.”
“Your Eminence?” Zephirin asked, surprised – the Archbishop stared at him until the knight bowed his head. “As you wish, Your Eminence. That will be all for today!”
At his command, every knight saluted and left – Aymeric with them, and his eyes lingered upon her. She could not read his expression, nor could she allow him to read hers. And then he was gone.
“Privacy is a luxury rarely afforded one in my position,” the Archbishop said with a sigh when the great doors had closed behind the last knight. “Now, tell me, young ones: What do you know of the Ascians?”
Tam grinned, probably at being called young, but Alphinaud was the one who answered. “What is it you wish to know, Your Eminence?”
“It is not what you know that interests me at this moment, but what I know that should interest you. You should know that I myself have met with them – have entertained them as guests, even.”
Achiyo just restrained herself from blurting out a foolish question – a number of foolish questions. “May I ask their intent, my lord?”
“Those harbingers of chaos and strife offered us power, that we might continue our war against the dragons. I have no intention of aiding their cause, of course, nor less of being their puppet. Yet were I to refuse them outright, I should learn naught of their true objectives and remain powerless to stop them. Thus have I hearkened to their words with interest, and paid lip service to their beliefs, biding my time and preparing for the inevitable conflict.”
“Why do you tell us this?” Alphinaud asked. “Will they not be suspicious of our presence?”
The Archbishop’s bushy eyebrows quivered. “Because their is naught in this world they fear more than the power of the Warriors of Light. If we are to rid ourselves of these vile interlopers, we must needs work together. With our combined strength, I have faith that we can wrest Eorzea from their grasp, and pave the way for a lasting peace. Think on it.”
“We thank you greatly,” Achiyo said. “We certainly shall.”
And the Archbishop’s smile made him appear almost… kindly.
“Tam?” she asked on their way back. The Archbishop had been as stern and cold as his land, but he had warned them of their enemies, and he had apologized for their treatment, which, for a man as proud as he seemed, was no small thing. If he already believed they ought to work together, then they might have a stronger ally in Ishgard than she had thought.
“I’m pretty sure they threw Grinnaux under the chariot,” Tam said, interrupting her optimistic contemplations. “And then backed it over him for good measure. I’d like to know why. If they wanted to talk, they could have just invited us if we’re as famous as they say. Was it to avoid Ascian suspicion? If it is, then I will say no more, but if it isn’t…”
“Then you will also say no more,” Achiyo retorted, and Tam grinned.
“You mean the trial was a set-up?” Alphinaud said, struggling to keep from shouting in indignation.
“Oh, now I’ve gone and spoiled the surprise,” Tam said, laughing. “Though it was pretty transparent, wouldn’t you say? Be suspicious of everyone and everything here, Alphinaud. These are not good people. Their laws have twisted them.”
“Even Aymeric-sama and Haurchefant?” Achiyo demanded. Surely he went too far.
“No, no, they are certainly good individuals… but they can be used against us very easily. And they will be, before we find our way out. This place is a trap. I’m certain of it now.”
“I understand,” Achiyo said, unwelcome memories stirring below the surface.
Achiyo was roused from a sound sleep by bells tolling urgently; she sat bolt upright and stared wide-eyed at the window in her room. The heavy curtains obscured all possible light, but as she scrambled to tug them aside, she saw that the night had just begun to shift towards the light of dawn. From the hall came the sound of urgent orders; she jumped out of bed and sprang for the door.
Artoirel was hurrying past in the hall, belting his tunic, a simple one that suggested he was heading to put armour over it. A servant was rushing about to light candles. “What is happening?” She saw other heads poking out, Miqo’te, Elezen, Lalafell.
“The dragons are attacking, Mistress Achiyo,” he called back. “Make ready if you wish to help.”
“Yes,” she said, and closed the door again to change from nightclothes to armour, especially to get her socks and boots on, for past the rugs in her room the tiled floor was cold on her bare feet.
It took her nearly a quarter of a bell to get all her plate armour on, and her heart was pounding in her throat the whole time. Was this why many Ishgardians wore simple mail? Her routine was hasty but complete though unaided; she’d practiced it too many times to forget something, even alarmed like this.
The warriors gathered in the main hall. Everyone was there, even Rinala, who looked pale and nervous, but determined. Count Edmont nodded gratefully. “Thank you, all. If it would suit you, pray join with House Fortemps’ knights where we stand upon the wall. We do not have many mages, so Master Alphinaud, Master Kekeniro, your skills will be most invaluable. Miss Rinala, Master Aentfryn, our chirurgeons will readily accept your aid. Master R’nyath, my son Emmanellain is in command of Fortemps’ archers, and Mistress Achiyo, Mistress Chuchupa, and Mistress Vivienne – but where is Master Tam?”
“Tam’s already gone,” R’nyath said, shifting himself to stand near Emmanellain. “I don’t know if he really sleeps? At least not in a room, like a normal person? I bet you’ll find him with the other dragoons, since Haurchefant went back to Camp Dragonhead.”
Count Fortemps nodded. “Then the three of you will accompany Artoirel.”
“We shall follow,” Achiyo said. “Place us where we may do the most good.”
“I shall direct you,” Artoirel said.
Tataru was standing beside the front door of the manor. “Good luck, everyone! Please be safe!”
“We’ll be back before you know it,” R’nyath said cheerfully. “Have a cup of tea and relax a bit!”
Outside of the manor was arrayed a contingent of knights in neat ranks with grim faces; across the wide boulevard before the Haillenarte mansion was a similar division, already marching down the road behind an armoured lord with the rose on his shield. Artoirel led the knights and the Scions down the boulevard, towards the walls of Foundation. The sky was yet dark grey, and the light grew darker as the buildings rose higher about them. From newly-lit windows and dark gaps she caught glimpses of peering eyes watching them. The lower they descended, the more the streets filled with armoured men and women, flowing swiftly towards their positions; the sound of heavy hurried boots echoed from the walls. At Artoirel’s commands, some joined their group, and others split off. It was chaos to Achiyo’s eyes, yet fluid and with purpose. She kept on Artoirel’s heels.
Warrior by warrior, each of the Scions went with different groups. Rinala and Aentfryn first, to emergency healing stations in the second row of streets, then Kekeniro, Alphinaud, and R’nyath and Emmanellain to positions overlooking the lower quarters of the city. The rest of them, melee fighters all, drew near to a high wall above the Arc of the Worthy, where Achiyo caught sight of the blue coat of Aymeric, and Lucia at his side. Representatives of all four High Houses were there, and a good number of Temple Knights. Ballistae, harpoons, and cannons were lined up and soldiers were preparing them for use; below, in the square of the Arc of the Worthy, more were being wheeled out and positioned as she watched. Knights were bowing their heads and making gestures that she knew must be sacred to them, then looking up again with determination. It had been perhaps half a bell, maybe a bit more, since Achiyo had been awoken by the alarms. The city’s transformation to readiness was impressive.
Aymeric was speaking to his troops. “Hold ye fast, and let not your courage be shaken! Trust in your comrades at arms, and your swords and spears, and the mighty stones of our city! Trust in Halone most holy, and let us defeat this enemy together!”
His words were not met with cheers, but smiles and murmurs of encouragement rippled through the ranks. Aymeric looked up with a grave nod as they approached. “Lord Artoirel; Lady Achiyo. Dragons were spotted from the Vigils, approaching in large numbers. They will be upon the city in a handful of minutes.”
Achiyo looked across the mists and stones. “Do the dragons often reach this far?”
“Thrice only have we been attacked since the protective wards were destroyed,” Artoirel said. “The first time we were taken by surprise, and had not perfected our defensive formations. That was when most of the damage to the Brume occurred. The second, the dragons did not send enough of their kin to break through. The third time was harder, wherein a few broke through and caused further destruction. We shall see this time.”
“The most recent estimates place the dragons’ numbers at about eight hundred,” Aymeric said, and Artoirel frowned hard. “They have no champions as Vishap, which you previously aided us with, yet- Mark there.”
Achiyo strained her eyes to see in the pre-dawn twilight, and thought she caught a hint of flapping wings from the west. Aymeric’s piercing eyes were more piercing than she’d realized, it seemed. Yet only a moment after he pointed, a cannonshot rang out from the western side of the city – and an answering one from the eastern side. She loosened her sword in its sheath, scarce able to curl her fingers around the hilt for the frigid night wind. While Artoirel and Lucia had not yet drawn their swords, she would not either… but she was nervous. Not for her life, but she didn’t know what was going on or what she could do.
“Eight hundred is more than they’ve sent before,” Artoirel muttered. “We shall be hard put to it…”
The rumble of cannonfire was joined by the crack of harpoons and ballistae, and she began to hear a rattle of musket fire as House Haillenarte’s machinists began to seek targets. She began to smell the cannon smoke. From east and west, a torrent of batlike wings fluttered over the city, from the two-yalm long dragon-flies to greater creatures perhaps ten, even fifteen yalms from nose to tail. The battle was closing in.
“Fire at will,” Aymeric said calmly, and the cannons crashed out next to them. Achiyo winced. She had never been so close to a cannon before, not even back in Doma… She tried to still herself. The eyes of Ishgard were not upon her, yet she could not appear weak now. But if she fought well, perhaps she could prise another degree of respect from them…
High above, dragons were shrieking, tangling around each other, falling to arrows and bullets, swooping around cannonballs and harpoons. Dragoons sprang fearlessly from the heights, diving gracefully onto the larger dragons and riding them with their spears down to the lower levels. Not all escaped unscathed; a severed scale-sheathed arm still clutching a spear plopped down onto the wall beside Chuchupa, splashing her with blood; the diminutive pirate blew a startled raspberry and kicked it away from her as if afraid it were possessed.
Artoirel growled. “There are too many. They will get through.”
And the dragons were close enough to breathe fire upon the city, bringing greater confusion to the dark with the sudden blasts of light. A particularly large dragon dove near their position, hissing great gouts of flame into a scaffolding near them, which collapsed with an ear-shattering crash; Achiyo squeaked involuntarily before she realized it wasn’t coming down literally upon her head. A blush rose to her cheeks, invisible in the dim light, at her lack of control. She who had fought Ultima and Bahamut face-to-face, who had led a band of adventurers into the World of Darkness!
The dragon had remained in place a moment too long, and a dragoon slammed spear-first on its back, knocking it to the hard stones of the street where it writhed and fell still with a rattling gasp. Aymeric saluted the dragoon, who saluted back – could it be Estinien? She could not tell. The dragoon jumped away again.
Now there were cries of fire, and a great deal of running, bucket chains forming to deal with the dragonfires set among the buildings, but the knights did not bother with that, still waiting for dragons to come within vision and range. Achiyo wanted to help, to be active – and maybe warm, though she didn’t say that aloud – certainly to be useful, but Artoirel advised against it. Runners were constantly coming to Aymeric, who sent them off again with new orders.
And then the dragons began to land, plowing through ballistae and cannon crews, running down knights, biting limbs and throats, torching harpoons and buildings. Confusion mounted about the city, the screaming of man and dragon relentless and shrill. Death and destruction swirled about her, on a scale she’d never seen before, not in all her travels, not even when assaulting the Praetorium… and now she was a part of it. Now she could fight, though her hands shook with unwonted uncertainty. She tried to hide it. A samurai’s daughter could not show fear.
Dragons landed about them, seemingly without count, and Aymeric called orders, and she gripped her sword and cut down the scaled snouts that rushed viciously at her. Chuchupa was to one side of her, whirling her axe like a madwoman, and Vivienne was further down, dark and deadly. The sky lightened imperceptibly.
The dragons drew off briefly after a long period of bitter struggle; the city chimes told her it had only been a bell. For what? Why did they leave now, to circle above the abyss, just out of cannon range and yet not gone altogether? Elezen and Hyur rushed to put out fires, to clear wreckage, to recover wounded.
And then the sun dawned over the mountains, welling up in the east like a gold-red drop of glowing water, its light touching the gilded top-most spires of the city and spreading down like rain. The dragons cried out in a cacophony of rage and dove to the attack again.
The sun was behind the winged creatures, and though she heard again the artillery and the gunfire, fewer of them fell. They came straight on, spitting fire and tearing into the city like wolves at a carcass.
And yet, with the dawn, the hope of Ishgard’s children was renewed, dispelling all the fear of the night. Looking around, she could see it on every knightly face, even Aymeric’s face – especially Aymeric’s face; a strange, implacable, almost joyful defiance, burning in all their eyes, a conviction as unshakeable as the city’s foundation itself. This was not simply the knowledge that if they failed, the city and all within it would burn, no: they would not fall this day. They would die, and gladly, before they allowed the dragons one more stone of their beloved city. And it ignited something within her, bringing her almost to tears, something she had never felt before, not in all her travels, all her most desperate battles with her dear companions…
One of the larger dragons, flanked by three others only slightly smaller, swooped in and landed heavily in the Arc of the Worthy, taking the soldiers there by surprise. Achiyo flinched at the screaming – and was off running even as she heard Aymeric order in reinforcements, her heart still glowing with this new feeling. The street would take too long, and there was a scaffolding further along the wall, so she jumped to the parapet and ran lightly along it, her tail streaming behind her to aid her balance. She heard Aymeric cry out “Lady Achiyo?” in surprise as she darted past him, and Artoirel commanding the House Fortemps knights to follow him down to the square to aid her. There was the scaffolding, and – a rope hanging from it, even better. She grabbed it and slid down, catching a glimpse of Chuchupa on her heels. “Here we go!” Chuchupa called gleefully as she followed.
Achiyo landed on cracked cobbles and took in her targets. “I cannot fight all four of them at once. Will you take the two on the left?”
“I thought ye’d never ask!” Chuchupa exclaimed, and charged past her. The dragons turned from tearing at the few remaining knights and spread their wings; she ducked behind her shield as they released their fire.
Now that an enemy was before her, focused upon her and her alone, her nerves were under her command again, her blood rushing warmly through her veins. Now it was her sword, her shield, her strength, and her agility against these two deadly foes. She commanded her aether to flash brightly, blinding them, and sprang up, stabbing at their eyes.
“Achiyo!” Artoirel cried. “Mistress Chuchupa! Reinforcements are here!”
Achiyo rolled forward between the two dragons, spinning as she rose again, drawing the dragons with her and away from the knights behind them. “I will keep them busy!”
“Not alone, you won’t,” said Lucia, sliding into place beside her. Vivienne was heading to aid Chuchupa.
“Strike them hard, in the Fury’s name!” There was Aymeric, and his crystal blue sword sparkled in the dawn’s light as he struck at a dragon’s shoulder, piercing the tough scaly hide. His knights swept in, forming a defensive line behind him; no dragon would charge past them into the city.
But the dragons, sensing weakness in this spot, came in a swarm as they had during the night, fangs and claws bared. Achiyo raised her shield against a blast of fire just in time; Lucia struck the dragon before her in the roof of its mouth, slaying it, but now they were surrounded by a dozen more.
There was a ‘fwip, fwip’, and two short bestial cries from behind her told her that an archer had just taken out two dragon-flies that had been about to pounce upon her. “I gotcha!” came R’nyath’s cheery hail, and more arrows zipped into the melee. A white flash struck the dragon to her left, and a moment later Tam followed his white lance, pulling it free and backflipping off.
“Scions!” Achiyo cried to her friends. Kekeniro wasn’t here, but they could still coordinate even without his expert direction.
“Aye!” R’nyath cried, and the others chorused after him.
“Drive them off to the east!” Achiyo told them, brandishing her shield before them. “Keep them away from the Brume!”
“Temple Knights, hold the western side,” Aymeric commanded, and she smiled to herself. “First unit, charge with me!”
It was not ‘step by step’ the dragons were driven back; the beasts gave way suddenly, then returned with ferocity, then gave way again. Their hatred might be implacable, but their footing was not, and though they circled and spat fire and tried to land in the middle of the square again, they could not. Achiyo’s shield arm ached from clashing against claws and snouts, but she would not falter.
Then suddenly the dragons fled; the incessant din grew quieter. The cannons were not firing so often, nor the machinists, and the screaming was soft and whimpering. “I want reports,” Aymeric said to the knights near him, who ran off.
Achiyo took a moment to catch her breath. Rinala and Aentfryn were wasted in the medic stations. They needed them out here. In their stead, she went to the bodies of the fallen; when she found one who breathed, she wove her aether about him in Clemency and saw life return to his face. She saw the others moving about the square, engaged similarly, many still looking to the skies.
“The battle is over,” Aymeric announced, receiving the first reports back, and allowed himself a little smile as knights cheered. “Time for tea, I think. Well done, everyone!” And with that brief moment over, he was back to business instantly. “Lucia, you are in charge of the artillery. Handeloup, I want a casualty report in two bells. Lord Artoirel, I’d like House Fortemps to aid in recovering the wounded. Lord Aurvael, please direct House Haillenarte to aid in putting out those fires. Lord Tedalgrinche, send word to House Dzemael’s masons, if you please.”
He moved to where she was helping another knight up. Clemency was tiring, and she would not be able to cast it much more, but every soul she helped now was one less for Rinala and Aentfryn to worry about. He bent to take the knight’s other hand and pull him to his feet. “You were – are most valiant, Lady Achiyo. Yet again you have shown courage and skill equal to any in Ishgard. You have won honour for yourself and your friends – and glory, if you wish it.” The knight bowed deeply to them both and hobbled off wearily.
“I thought you were going to have tea?” she asked, relief and victory loosening her tongue.
He chuckled wistfully. “Tea is my weakness… Later. When I must deal with the paperwork. There are more important things to do now.”
“I understand,” she said, regretting her teasing, though she did appreciate a good tea herself. “How may I help?”
She felt blue eyes on her and met them boldly; he seemed at a bit of a loss. “You have already helped, Lady Achiyo. But if you seek yet more, I am sure Lord Artoirel would be pleased to have your assistance.”
“It was a pleasure to fight at your side,” she said, though they had not literally been side-by-side. He knew what she meant.
“Likewise,” he said, with a smile and a gallant bow. “Thank you, Lady Achiyo.”
“Aymeric-sama.” She bowed in return, and went to find an injured someone small enough she could carry them to the healers.
R’nyath was finding it difficult to focus on killing the bandits infesting his lovely Black Shroud. First of all, Joye was married!? Second of all, Lord Jannequinard was entertainingly cuckoo. Third of all… Joye… was married!?
He’d really liked her, had been trying to figure out if she’d be receptive to some flirting, or if she’d threaten to shoot bits off of him like she did for everyone else who bothered her when she had her rifle in hand. Which was pretty hot. She really was amazing; she’d led House Haillenarte to victory in that little tournament, which had resulted in machinists deployed on the walls in the recent battle. But there wasn’t going to be any flirting now, he guessed…
Oh well! Ought he to believe in the predestination that astrologians seemed to, when now this other pretty girl just came out of nowhere – out of Sharlayan, that was? Though why she seemed insistent on his using the astrologian globe instead of his bow was a bit confusing. He liked stars, and cards, and divinations, but he hadn’t thought he had much talent for magic… did he? Oh, sure, he used his aether to enchant his arrows, to sing his battle songs, but spells-!
As he drew the Bole and felt the stars’ aether wrap around Quimperain protectively, as he felt healing and harming forces pass through him, it seemed magic wasn’t as incomprehensible as he’d thought. In fact, this sort was pretty intuitive. Maybe it was his artist’s soul that let him channel this with ease? He was going to have to chat with Kekeniro on what spellcasting normally felt like. Maybe Rinala too, if she was up for it!
Well, really, it was a good thing the whole thing was intuitive, considering he’d just had an entirely unfamiliar magical apparatus thrust at him, not to mention an entirely new branch of magic that no one had ever told him about before. It was a good thing Quimperain and that other fellow could handle themselves while he figured out what he was doing and tried not to let his tail fluff up too much. How did Rinala deal with this sort of attention-splitting so easily? He shook himself and started doling out Malefics with more vigour.
The old man was really gracious when they finally caught up to him, and started actually explaining what was going on and how this magic worked. Thank the Twelve.
As they banded together to head for Camp Tranquil, he angled to walk beside the pretty woman – Leveva, if he remembered right. “So I have three of these soul crystals now,” he said, pulling them out of his pocket and splaying them across his palm, green, turquoise, and topaz. “What shall I do with them now, juggle them?”
Leveva’s eyes flashed. “Those aren’t toys, I hope you know.”
“I know, I know. But I feel like I have more than I really ought to, don’t I?” He was tempted to actually juggle them, because he could juggle quite well, but Leveva probably wouldn’t take kindly to it.
She shrugged. “That is the number you have, no more, no less. Your soul is versatile, it seems. Most work their whole lives and hardly achieve mastery of one soulstone. If you’re asking whether you should feel guilty or greedy about it, that is up to you.”
She was pretty stern, despite her elegant appearance. “Fair enough! How long have you been… astrologianing?”
“I began studying the stars as a child,” she retorted. “You’ve got a talent for it, but you have a long way to catch up. I’ll be working you hard if you’re as good as Grandfather thinks you are.”
“Great!” he said with a grin. “I’m ready for it!” To flirt or not to flirt? “It won’t be a hardship with such a beautiful taskmaster.”
She stopped walking and put her hands on her hips angrily. “I’ll be having none of that. If you’re going to become an astrologian, you will take this seriously. You can start anytime.”
He grinned ruefully. “My apologies. ‘Twon’t happen again.”
Why did that rejection make him feel so lonely inside? He’d been rejected on a very regular basis back in Gridania and hadn’t batted an eye at it. Maybe he wasn’t ready to begin again yet. Or maybe he needed to spend more time with Emmanellain and get used to it again.
Vivienne walked boldly into Revenant’s Toll. Rowena had a new greatsword for her to try and she didn’t care to wait for the cover of darkness to sneak in. Besides, would the Crystal Braves really attack her in broad daylight, in a town where she’d been… well, maybe not popular, but respected?
It seemed they wouldn’t attack her at all, as the first bluecoat to see her, a Miqo’te woman, blanched and nearly dropped her spear. “Ahh!”
Vivienne barely glanced at her, but a few more bluecoats had seen her now… and they looked as frightened as the Miqo’te. A Hyur cautiously approached her. “Um… Y-you’re not s-supposed to be here.”
“Oh?” She barely glanced at him, as if he weren’t worth her time… then turned and loomed over him, eyes flashing, teeth bared in what might generously be called a smile. “Or else what?”
“Um…” He cowered behind his little lantern shield. “Um… Please don’t hurt me? I’m just doing my job?”
“Oh, don’t piss yourself,” she said. “I’m going to talk to Rowena.”
“P-please leave as soon as you can!” he called after her. She waved carelessly.
Aymeric was well aware of when the Scions entered the Durendaire ballroom, even without looking; the ripple of mixed reactions that spread through the crowd was telling enough. But… it was a more positive ripple, on the whole, than it had been in days past. Small victories.
To go with a major victory; the celebration was in honour of Ishgard’s successful defense against the dragon’s latest attack, the greatest yet. Though privately, in consultation with Lucia and the astrologians of the Observatorium, he worried that the attacks would grow stronger and stronger until not even Ishgard could hold even with the aid of the Scions, even with the aid of other adventurers; already the astrologians were warning that the dragons gathered for an attack greater than all the others put together. But still he had to attend at least some of these parties and look cheerful. He normally preferred attending the special High Masses than the parties.
If Achiyo Kensaki were among the Scions tonight, he thought that appearing cheerful might be less tiresome than usual.
She was; at their head was Vivienne Urselmert in a sleek black blouse, vest, and trousers, but behind her, looking both dainty and regal in a soft pink Ishgardian gown, was Achiyo. There, too, was Alphinaud Leveilleur, Tam Salmaiire, R’nyath Tia, and even sad-looking Rinala Sweetwhisper, and he wanted to speak to all of them if he could, but he couldn’t help feeling eager to speak to her as soon as possible.
But he encountered Tam first; the strange Elezen grinned at him, and raised a glass of what looked like whiskey. Aymeric wondered where he’d gotten it from. There was no whiskey at the refreshments table. “Parties. Just like home. I hate it. Don’t you?”
“I don’t mind them, in the right company,” Aymeric said. He’d rather be working in the Congregation, but in a sense this was work too, so he bore it.
“I suppose company helps,” Tam said. “Alcohol helps more.”
“I heard a rumour you’re very old, older than you appear,” Aymeric said. Haurchefant had accidentally mentioned something in passing. “Does overindulgence of alcohol not injure you the way it does the rest of us?”
“Sure, but we have excellent natural regenerative properties if we stop in time,” Tam said. “Which is nice. It would be a bit embarrassing to ask a unicorn for help with liver failure from one’s own vices.”
“A unicorn?” He couldn’t agree with the last sentiment. It was important to ask for help when one could not manage on one’s own. It was how he’d met the Scions in the first place.
“We don’t have magic, where I’m from,” Tam said matter-of-factly. “Unicorns do, but they use it according to their own wisdom or foolishness. I prefer cats.”
“Ishgard used to have many unicorns, did you know?”
“I heard… Yet another similarity to the place I’m from. But there aren’t any now. Except for the one who started following me in the Black Shroud.” Tam seemed to brighten. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I won’t die to one this time. Unless she goes mad.”
Aymeric was feeling the social ground beneath him quivering and crumbling. “Ah… I don’t think that is a habit of Ishgardian unicorns.” He decided not to bring up the stories about the Nightmare. They were only stories, after all. “By your leave…”
Rinala Sweetwhisper was hovering on the edge of the gathering, mustering smiles for those who stopped by to congratulate and thank her. Aymeric made himself one of these, since she was near to Tam, and knelt on one knee before her to speak with her better. “How are you, Miss Sweetwhisper?”
“I am well,” she said, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “This place is beautiful.”
“Thank you. I hope you do not find it too cold; I know you are from warmer climes.”
She patted her blue fur-trimmed tunic. “It’s all right. Emmanellain took us to the tailors this morning to find clothes for tonight, and there were lots of warm things there.”
“It looks well on you,” he said. No wonder Achiyo was wearing an Ishgardian-styled gown, if young Emmanellain had provided for them all. Though Rinala’s loose cream-coloured pants were still reminiscent of Ul’dah, rather than the fitted trousers that were in fashion in Ishgard at the moment. He offered her a friendly hand, and she took it with a gentle trust. “Thank you for aiding us once again. I do not know what has brought you grief, but I hope you will find some solace here with us.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground. Still too soon to offer comfort, then. She did not deserve to be in this war. “Thank you, Ser Aymeric.”
It was odd how responsible he felt for them now that they were here, in his city, in his proximity. He had been too busy to speak with them much at all since they arrived nearly a moon ago, and they were House Fortemps’ guests, not his, yet he felt closer to them than ever before.
R’nyath and Alphinaud were far too surrounded by people for him to speak to just yet, so he found Achiyo speaking with Artoirel, and was glad to do so. “How fare you both?”
Artoirel gestured politely to Achiyo to go first, and she… curtseyed. It looked clumsy on her, who was so graceful with her Eastern bows. “I am well, thank you, Aymeric-sama. And you?”
“Very well, thank you,” he said. “Enjoying the ball?”
“Well enough,” Artoirel said, but Achiyo’s beautiful eyes slid sideways.
And when her gaze glanced up again, it was coy. “’Tis good to see so many people I ought to know; yet I think this might be more dangerous than fighting the dragons.”
He chuckled. “I believe we think alike on that point. I wonder if I dare ask, then: how do you find Ishgard, now that you are here?”
“I like it very well,” Achiyo said, and there was a flash in her eyes of genuine enthusiasm. “Your people are very brave. And Lord Artoirel and House Fortemps have been generous beyond measure.” Artoirel murmured something polite and almost embarrassed.
He hadn’t expected such praise, after the treatment he knew she had been enduring from some quarters, and hadn’t expected how happy such praise would make him. “We do our best; we are far from perfect, but we have our strengths. You are most kind. What were you speaking of, before I so rudely interrupted you?”
“Lady Achiyo was inquiring as to our relationships with beastmen,” Artoirel said. “I have to confess I never thought about it. Do we have relationships with beastmen?”
Aymeric had to think about it too. “The Vanu Vanu, perhaps… else, we have none within our borders the way the other nations of Eorzea do. And with them, we have no quarrel… though forced as we are to expand into their territory after the Calamity, they may begin to have a quarrel with us… How is it in the Far East?”
“There are a few,” she said. “There are the Kojin, who might appear as turtle-folk to your eyes, and the Lupin, the wolfmen… They are much more integrated into Othardian society, especially the Lupin, and so while some may turn to banditry or piracy, they are not feared and hated as a collective the way the Ixal or Kobolds are here.” She frowned softly. “It worries me, the way they are vilified here – at least in Limsa. They are not the enemy. The Empire is.”
“How is it in Doma, then?” Artoirel asked. “You are from Doma, are you not?”
“I am from Hingashi, though I lived in Doma for many years,” she corrected him. “In Doma…” her gaze cast itself into the distance, and there were tumultuous feelings there, locked behind her carefully polite expression. “One is not allowed to so much as think ill of the Empire. But in Hingashi, they simply do not like foreigners, the Empire no more or less than any others. Their isolationism has kept the Empire at bay so far. I do not think it will last forever.”
“All foreigners?” Aymeric asked, a little disappointed. Though he had no cause to protest, with Ishgard’s own policies in place. By the Fury, the embassies were still not reopened.
“Yes, of course,” she said, and suddenly her polite expression dropped for a second and her eyes were dancing and mischievous. “Why should we welcome in dirty, filthy ijin, who don’t know how to wash and who eat like pigs?”
Aymeric laughed softly. “And here Ishgard was closed for fear of heretics. But would not they consider an Ishgardian ball to be civilized?” Now he was wondering how people washed in Hingashi. If those scales plating her slender throat continued downwards- That line of thought could stop immediately.
The mischief was still there. “Ishgard and Hingashi would certainly get along on many tedious things.” Then it faded, and those incredible blue-green eyes looked up at him. “I am only teasing, my lords, and mean no offense. We certainly get along, don’t we?”
“Yes,” he said, mesmerized. “No offense taken, Lady Achiyo. I still have hope of visiting your homeland someday.”
“You would be most welcome, if I have any say in the matter,” she murmured, and he could not but smile.
“Certainly, any country will think of its own citizens most highly,” Artoirel said. “Though I wonder if any in Limsa Lominsa would be able to get away with calling others ‘dirty’.”
Achiyo smiled. “Pray do not say that around Chuchupa.”
“You have my word I shall not. I shall only think it. Loudly.”
“Lord Artoirel…!”
“I jest, my lady.”
Aymeric smiled and bowed. “It has been a pleasure to speak with you both, but I see others I must speak to. Though perhaps I will see you dancing later, Lady Achiyo?”
Alarm flashed through her eyes. “Oh, no. I do not know any Ishgardian dances. Emmanellain did not have time to show.”
“That’s quite all right,” he said, hiding both his amusement and his disappointment. “Pray enjoy the rest of the party.”
If he wasn’t more careful, he was going to blurt out his admiration – his infatuation with her in public, and that would humiliate both of them. He already knew of the rumours that tried to drag them both down, and he would not see her shamed by his own city. Perhaps he ought to try harder not to feel what he felt. She was an adventurer, free to go where she pleased, and he was bound to Ishgard… though in light of their immediate conversation, that was a weak excuse.
Yet to see her in battle for the second time… how could he not be drawn in by her? Fearlessly running headlong into danger to protect his knights, commanding her companions with utter confidence, small and slender and utterly indomitable. His heart was a lost cause… so his head would have to take control from here.
With a clank, the chains dropped from the machine, and Raubahn slowly, painfully sat up and coughed. “My… thanks…”
“Slowly, General,” Alphinaud told him. “You are yet weak from your ordeal.”
Rinala, who had immediately lifted her staff to lay healing upon Raubahn when the magitech device was opened, dropped it upon the floor to throw her arms about his neck and sniffled. “My poor General… I’m so glad you’re alive.”
“Thank you… lass. It’s… good to be alive.” Slowly, his one good arm closed about the Miqo’te as he accepted the hug. He looked so tired, Achiyo thought – yet the sort of sisterly comfort Rinala offered must be priceless. To know that there were yet folk on this star who loved him.
Achiyo looked to Yugiri. “We must quit this place as soon as may be.” Tam, R’nyath, and Aentfryn had been unavailable, but the other six Scions in Ishgard had joined with Yugiri to come rescue the Flame General – or to get revenge on the Crystal Braves… she did not ask which.
“Agreed,” Yugiri said. “We are still in danger-” She turned and stopped.
“I should have known,” Ilberd’s voice spoke from the door. “What are clever contrivances to the Warriors of Light? Well done, heroes.”
Achiyo whirled, drawing her sword, and saw Ilberd and his two most treacherous lieutenants – Yuyuhase and Laurentius, and a few more lackeys. But whatever rage welled up in her breast was naught compared to the venom Alphinaud had in his voice as he pulled out his grimoire. “Ilberd…”
Ilberd sneered. “You mean to struggle on, then? Very well. If you would stand in my way, I will cut you down like all the rest.”
“Ye’ll find it harder than before, now that ye can’t take us by surprise,” Chuchupa said.
Ilberd laughed harshly. “And you won’t find it as easy as you think, vaunted heroes.”
“Rinala, stay with Raubahn!” Kekeniro said, though Achiyo thought that command unnecessary. Rinala cast Protect once again and turned to Raubahn.
“Ilberd! How dare you!” Achiyo charged straight at him, her sword flickering out at his defenses. The others could take care of the underlings. “And you said such noble words to Eline Roaille, you base hypocrite!”
“I said what I had to. And you believed me, did you not? Don’t we all believe what we want to believe?” He was grinning, matching her stroke for stroke, step for step. She could not let his mockery affect her, but it was difficult not to, and with the feelings of betrayal already surging within her.
Her eyes were stormy as she struck back. “Then believe this – you have no chance of striking us down, not when all the legions and conviction of the Black Wolf could not!”
That took the smile off his face and he leaned into her defense, pushing her back a step. “That changes nothing! I will not stop, not though gods nor men gainsay me.” He was indeed a masterful fighter; it was such a waste for one so strong to be so blindly selfish! She ducked as his sword glanced off her shield, and lunged at his knees.
“Nor I,” she cried, “and whose will then is stronger?”
“I guess we will see,” he said. “How has your will been tested? What have you endured for your benighted nation? You’re still a girl-”
A spell caught him in the hand, startling him into fumbling, and Achiyo caught him in the side with a glancing slice. “It is over, Ilberd!” Alphinaud called. “Lay down your arms and surrender yourself to justice!” Laurentius and Yuyuhase were retreating, holding injuries, and about them the other Crystal Braves were fallen.
“Justice!?” cried the traitor, falling back and disengaging from Achiyo’s blade. “Justice for what exactly? ‘Twas not I who assassinated the sultana, boy!”
Rinala sprang up from tending to Raubahn, tail bristling, ears laid back. “That’s not what you said in the Fragrant Chamber! I heard you!”
“I said that to make the bull angry,” Ilberd said dismissively, and Rinala went for her thaumaturgy staff.
“Ere we debate who is responsible for the assassination,” Alphinaud cut in, “I would ask whether an assassination took place at all.”
“What?” Rinala asked, very small.
“Clever little shite…” Ilberd hissed, and turned to Achiyo, pointing his sword at her. “If you think you fight for justice, lass, you’d best wake up. The truth is, you fight for whoever bloody well tells you to. Can you not see you’re being used!? By the Scions, the city-states, even the Crystal Braves. They none of ’em care a whit what you want – only what you can do for them. How do I know this? Because I’m the same as you – a pawn to be used as my masters see fit.”
Achiyo looked down at her clenched swordhand, then back up at him. “So you would betray even your honour, for you no longer believe in it.”
“Aye! All I ever wanted was to liberate my homeland, and I ate dirt to make it happen. But what have I achieved after all these years in servitude? Nothing! Not a bloody thing.”
Achiyo opened her mouth and closed it again. He was wrong – he had to be. But his words had been chipping away at her fury, and now her voice failed her. Where were her own convictions? What had she done other than to ensure her own future? What would she sacrifice for those she cared for?
“You’re wrong!” cried… Kekeniro, of all people? “The Scions are like family. They were all like family, before you took them from us!”
“I set you all free!” Ilberd pointed his blade at Raubahn and roared. “If we ourselves are not free – free to think and to act – how are we ever to reclaim our homeland? Know this: there is nothing I would not give to take back Ala Mhigo! NOTHING!”
There was a bright flash and Achiyo threw up her shield, blinded, but when her eyes cleared and she could look again, Ilberd and his remaining cronies were fleeing.
“Is it true?” Rinala asked Alphinaud with a gasp. “Is Sultana Nanamo alive?”
Alphinaud looked flustered. “Well… I think so. It’s true that the announcement of ‘illness’ has me worried… yet I think it more likely than not that somehow, she was spared.”
Rinala turned to Raubahn with a tremulous smile, the first real smile Achiyo had seen from her since the banquet. “Did you hear that? Everything’s going to be all right!”
Raubahn’s face was creased with pain, and Achiyo wondered how difficult it was to hear such bright words when he himself could not yet dare hope. “I heard, Rinala.” He cleared his throat and pulled himself slowly to his feet; Vivienne helped him up. “I’m but a cripple and a fool, and still you came for me… I’m in your debt.”
“We are all of us fools of fate, General,” Alphinaud said. “Yet even fools have a part to play.”
“Especially if we work together!” Rinala said. “And we’re with you, Raubahn!”
Raubahn looked down. “Rest assured, I was not planning to die till I’d avenged the sultana… I would have given my wealth, my arm, my life- Still, your words are welcome, lass.”
“Then let us go,” Yugiri said. “It is still not safe here.”
Achiyo was last in line. What would she give, if given a choice, for what she believed in?
Chuchupa fell back to walk beside her. “Don’t let ‘im get to ye, Princess. Ye’ve done miracles for a land not yer own, for which ye didn’t have to lift a finger. Ye owe him nothin’. Bugger ‘im and his guilt trips.”
“Thank you, Chuchupa,” Achiyo said.
Chuchupa grinned. “Take it from me, a pira- an adventurer does what she wants – and if she wants to liberate countries, then she bloody well can, and if she doesn’t, no one should anchor her with it.”
“But if someone asked…” Achiyo said, smiling.
“People are always asking. Remember Minfilia an’ the refugees? Ye pick yer own course, with the tide and the wind, not the Yellowjackets’ yammerin’. Huh, what does he hope to accomplish anyway? Even if he’s pissed at Raubahn, what’s he got to gain from killin’ ‘im? What’s he got to gain from fighting us?”
“I understand,” Achiyo said. “One thing at a time. We must see the General – and, if possible, the sultana safe… and Ishgard is still in grave danger that we still know little of. Ilberd must wait.”
“Gods, I hope nobody summons a bloody primal while we’re in the middle o’ that,” Chuchupa said.
“Pray do not invite misfortune to call,” Achiyo said, and Chuchupa gave her a raspberry.