Achiyo’s theme songs are Bibliophobia (for in-game tracks) and The Legend of Ashitaka (for out-of-game tracks). They maybe don’t fit the asskicking that happens in this chapter, but I thought it was worth a reminder. : )
As a pipe organist myself, the Vault’s soundtrack made me nearly cry with happiness when I first heard it because it’s so beautifully Baroque (I was seriously freaking out musicgasming all over the place haha). A videogame piece for organ that treats it seriously and not just a trope for “intellectual bad guy”! I mean, it doesn’t even sound specifically like videogame music, and I think that’s one of the great things about it. It sounds like heavy Buxtehude, tbh. IT’S SO SPARKLY. I really want the sheet music. I tried transcribing it myself but there’s so much reverb it’s really hard to hear a lot of the individual mid-range notes. Though it’s also so cool how when you go to higher floors of the Vault you hear less and less of it, just the bassy pedal notes that would naturally carry farther, it’s a great detail, I love it. I also appreciate how Soken weaves the organ into random other soundtracks (and bagpipes, my other favourite niche instrument, though I don’t play that) purely for the timbre.
And then I cried with sadness, obviously.
Chapter 28: At What Cost
“What in the hells-!?” Hilda cried, and a patron came flying over the rail to land heavily on his back. They all jumped to their feet, R’nyath’s tail fluffing terribly, and all the other patrons went quiet and backed away. Some ran down the back stairs.
A Heavens’ Ward knight was standing at the top of the balcony, a spellcaster of some kind from his robes, sniffing the air. His voice when he spoke was low and oily. “Ahhh, the unmistakable scent of heresy… And what do we have here? The honoured guests of House Fortemps consorting with the queen of rats?” He made a show of thinking hard. “Oooh, plotting insurrection, I shouldn’t wonder! Tsk tsk tsk. That won’t do.
“Hey!” Chuchupa yelled. “Lalafells ain’t rats! Racist!”
R’nyath touched his astrologian globe and bent to check on the patron who’d been pushed over the rail. He was unconscious, but alive; he’d be fine if no one stepped on him.
The posturing egomaniac up above spread his arms like a preacher. Maybe he was one in his spare time. “Sickness is wont to fester and spread. It must be burned out ere the infection takes hold.”
Hilda drew a large pistol from a back holster. “I reckon ser’d be happy to wield the irons himself. Well, so happens I’ve got irons of my own.”
“Yes, you do,” R’nyath said, trying not to drool. Twelve above, could she get any hotter?
She fired, three times in quick succession, but every one of her shots bounced off an impervious magical shield before the Heavens’ Ward. Who laughed mockingly. “Such simple creatures, rats! Certain to attack when cornered. Let us step outside, milady. In here, your toys could hurt someone.”
Hilda snarled and dashed for the steps, followed quickly by Achiyo. “Wow, he’s really confident, huh?” R’nyath said as he followed. “Not afraid of all of us together… must have something up his sleeve.”
“He’s about to get a punch up ‘is nuts, is what,” Chuchupa said.
And indeed, there were other knights with the Heavens’ Ward in the square outside the Forgotten Knight. Achiyo glanced at R’nyath. “Can you heal us?”
“Yep,” he said, and spun his globe. “Go get ‘em!” He grinned at Hilda. “I don’t think they know what they’re in for.” Sure, they’d seen the Warriors of Light in action once or twice… but they hadn’t seen them fight as a team. Achiyo charged, Chuchupa at her heels, and R’nyath, Alphinaud, and Hilda brought up the rear.
It was a bit touch and go for a bit, partly because Achiyo and even Chuchupa were not fighting at their full strength. Achiyo seemed reluctant to outright kill the knights, and Chuchupa was following her lead. Hilda, though, had no mercy on them, shooting them dead cleanly. But the Heavens’ Ward, Ser Charibert, as Hilda told them, was slippery, moving away from the Warriors of Light constantly, and trusting in his strangely impervious shield when he let them get within melee range. And his flame spells were huge, sending them scattering to avoid getting scorched.
Then reinforcements arrived, for both sides. “Stop this, all of you!” came a melodious shout from the road to the Pillars, and Haurchefant was charging towards them with Vivienne and Aentfryn behind him. “It is madness! Why are you fighting!?”
“Lord Haurchefant!” Alphinaud cried. “Vivienne, Aentfryn! Over here!”
Ser Charibert looked back and forth from Haurchefant to Hilda. “Hmph. How fitting. The noble bastard and the mongrel bitch.”
“This mongrel bitch is going to put a bullet between your eyes!” Hilda growled, and fired again, still uselessly.
Charibert laughed. “Filthy rats!”
But with the addition of their three friends, they all were more than a match for Charibert’s underlings, and he was getting backed into a corner. Still, he did not look unduly bothered. “There’s no denying your gifts… A well-deserved reputation indeed.”
“Enough!”
The ringing shout came from Lucia, brandishing her blade, and she charged.
This, then, was one enemy too many, and Charibert jumped – as high as a dragoon, ridiculous in his robes, onto the roof of the Forgotten Knight. He bowed low, mocking, and Hilda sent three more shots in his direction with a look of rage. He jumped back, disappearing over the roof of the inn.
“Wait, is he both a mage and a dragoon?” R’nyath asked. “I’m confused.”
Hilda growled. “Gah! Lucky bastard.”
“Nay, ‘tis we who are lucky,” Alphinaud said. “Had we fought on, ‘twas but a matter of time before our conflict claimed the life of an innocent bystander.”
Achiyo, looking tired, sheathed her sword, and they all gathered by the broken fountain. “What the hells was that about?” Vivienne demanded.
“We were having a lovely chat with Hilda here, when that overgrown weed decided to butt in and accuse us of heresy,” R’nyath summed up.
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “I’ll show him heresy…”
“Save it,” Aentfryn snapped.
“Thank you for arriving when you did,” Achiyo said to Lucia. “Some enchantment guards him, and he did not seem to mind us until you arrived.”
“I thought the Heavens’ Ward might come here as well,” Lucia said grimly.
“They came to the Temple Knights’ headquarters?” Haurchefant asked.
Lucia nodded. “Aye. Ser Grinnaux announced that the Lord Commander had been imprisoned under suspicion of heresy, and that the Heavens’ Ward had been granted full authority in his stead.”
“At least they’re nice ‘nough to tell ye about it,” Chuchupa said.
“Then the Heavens’ Ward now commands the Temple Knights,” Haurchefant said with resignation.
Alphinaud frowned to himself. “I had not reckoned with the Temple Knights’ involvement… Not as enemies, at any rate. I do not relish the thought of facing them in battle, but what other choice do we have?”
Lucia gave him a stern look. “Those still loyal to Ser Aymeric answer to me. Alas, that amounts to but half our number. The other half, who opposed his promotion to Lord Commander, have gathered at the Vault as ordered.”
“Bollocks,” Chuchupa said.
“Bolsterin’ the guard already, eh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re expected,” Hilda said.
Lucia looked at her as if for the first time. “I take it you’re in charge around here?”
Hilda crossed her arms with an icy look of her own. “Hilda, and yes. The young master was just persuadin’ me to join his lost cause. Convincin’ little beggar, isn’t he?” Alphinaud turned to stare at her, uncertain whether or not to be affronted, and she gave him a smug grin. “Aye, your passion moved me… a bit. That, and the fact that we’re sick of livin’ off the leavin’s of our ‘betters’. If you’ve a mind to change things around here, then we’ve a mind to join you!”
R’nyath brightened up and bounced with glee. “Huzzah! Glad to have you!” If she joined the full team, when he didn’t have to heal, then he could show off for her with his bow – or with his own gun! Opportunities lay in his future, he just knew it – though he hadn’t consulted the stars on that. They probably wouldn’t tell him anyway.
Hilda favoured him with a saucy nod, and he grinned uncontrollably. “We’ve been working in secret to undermine the Holy See and the High Houses. That much I’ll acknowledge. But this nonsense about us throwing wide the gates for the heretics is just that: nonsense.”
“If not you, then who?” Lucia demanded in perplexity.
Hilda snorted. “You Temple Knights, of course. Reckoned it was your beloved Ser Aymeric’s doing at first, but then I heard how he lost his head. My next best guess would be the Heavens’ Ward. That way they’d have the perfect excuse to go door-to-door through the Brume. Slaughter the heretics and their ‘sympathizers’ in one fell swoop.”
“Like ‘Filthy Rats’-man was whinging about,” R’nyath muttered to himself.
“But the Heavens’ Ward’s scheme did not account for Lady Iceheart’s intervention… and so they have been forced to improvise,” Haurchefant guessed.
“Good,” said Tam from behind him, and several people jumped, because when had he shown up? Rinala, Kekeniro, and Lilidi were puffing a bit behind him, so he couldn’t have been lurking for too long.
“Bastard,” Vivienne said reflexively. Tam smiled at her.
“If they’re making it up as they go, then we’re on even footing,” he said. “Also, good job finding Hilda.”
“You’re an arse,” Hilda told him with amusement, and he nodded cheerfully.
“You might have told us,” Alphinaud muttered, but not very loud.
“Is anyone hurt?” Rinala asked anxiously.
“We are all well, I believe,” Achiyo told her. “R’nyath took care of us. You need not fear.”
“I got it covered!” R’nyath assured her. “Of course, it’ll be much better with you to take care of it.”
“I think we are all assembled, then, except for Estinien,” Haurchefant said. “Are you all rested?”
Some of them were. Some of them weren’t. R’nyath was among those were were not rested, but… it was fine. They had to keep going, to pick up the momentum, right? After a moment, the consensus came out that everyone was fine.
“A fine bloody mess, ain’t it?” Hilda shrugged. “But the die is cast. So what’s the plan?”
“We’re going to plan out here?” Vivienne asked, looking at the buildings around them.
They did indeed plan right there, gathering closer and speaking in lower voices. It wasn’t like they could get more arrested for heresy, R’nyath guessed. Anyway, Hilda would create the news of a fake gathering of heretics out in Western Coerthas, diverting the attention of the High Houses. Including House Fortemps, otherwise the ruse wouldn’t be very effective, so they’d be down an ally. With the attack of the night before still fresh in everyone’s minds, the other counts would jump to quell any more like it. But really it would just keep all the uninvolved infantry safe until the shouting was over in Ishgard.
Meanwhile, the Warriors of Light would charge into the Vault to apprehend the archbishop. Theirs was the part with the fiercest fighting, because the Heavens’ Ward would drop anything and everything else to defend their master, and they would have hostile Temple Knights with them. But that was important to the plan, because the more forces facing the Warriors of Light, the fewer facing the third team. Lucia would take Estinien, Haurchefant, and Alphinaud to break into the gaol under the Vault and get Aymeric out. The loyal Temple Knights would be with them, and hold the entrance to the Vault. They’d then press forward in the wake of the Warriors of Light, and Aymeric would get his chance to talk to the archbishop and be listened to. At least, that was what R’nyath figured would happen.
Hilda nodded to them as she left to set her part of the plan in motion, and R’nyath waved at her. She was so confident, and her hair was so gorgeous bobbing behind her as she strode, and…
There had been a tension in the air all day, Achiyo had noticed as they searched for Hilda earlier. Now as they dashed up the steps to the Vault, steps she had not too long ago climbed and descended in peace with half of the rest of Ishgard, it was building, building in her chest, in the air, as the sun descended towards the jagged horizon in the west. Now she was bringing violence to these halls that were sacred to her hosts.
She had to. For Aymeric’s sake.
Their entire ‘army’ was together, Lucia and the Temple Knights along with the Warriors of Light, and they would split up once they had breached the main doors. There were Temple Knights ahead of them, and they raised their weapons while one of them ran for aid. “Halt!” said another, rage in his voice. Was he not afraid, or did the rage cover his fear? “You are not permitted to enter these halls in such warlike guise! Lay down your arms and disperse, else you shall be arrested for insurrection and heresy!”
Achiyo stared him down with her chin raised proudly. “Release Ser Aymeric de Borel, and let us speak with the Archbishop. We are not leaving.”
“Heretics!” shouted the knight, and Achiyo saw reinforcements coming from within. She drew her sword and shield, and charged. They could not allow their enemies to build a shield wall against them.
There was no time to be gentle with these knights. They would die, sacrificed on the altar of haste. Her sword flickered, aether building inside her along with her emotions, but with the tide of allies behind her, all she really had to do was to press forward, her shield high.
When they had captured the foyer, Lucia turned to her. “We shall descend to the gaol from here. May the Fury guide you all.”
“And all of you,” Achiyo replied. Tam waggled his fingers at Alphinaud, Haurchefant, and Estinien, and Haurchefant waved back with a confident smile. Alphinaud was concentrating, and Estinien was not looking.
Achiyo turned her eyes forward. First, they had to cross the immense space of the church, those hundreds of lines of pews, painted gold through the windows as the sun fell. She could hear the pipe organ playing – the organist was practising? Even in this time? Was the organist aware that the Warriors of Light were invading? Had the knights not sent out all the civilians? It was a majestic, mysterious, sombre piece, deep bone-shaking rumbles shot through with glittering bright tones. She could not pay attention to it. There were knights before her, shouting defiance, and she raised her sword and ran towards them.
They were nearly halfway down the long hall, the nave, Haurchefant had called it when she was last there, when the organist realized what was going on from all the shouting, clashing, and magic echoing over the music; the pipe organ music stumbled to a halt and ceased with an odd discord, and she heard no more of it.
At the other end of the nave, at the dais halfway up the long stairs leading to the second level, waited a larger group of Temple Knights. At their head was a handsome young blond Elezen with sword and shield, clad in that blue and white armour of the Heavens’ Ward. He said in a voice so stern for his young face: “I trust you know your lives are forfeit.”
“Come and take them, then,” Vivienne snarled from beside Achiyo, and was the first to dash forward.
Achiyo looked at him, saw his conviction, his courage, his loyalty, trained upon years of fighting dragons, now all arrayed against them – against her. And the feelings that had been growing within her since first she came to Ishgard welled up and overflowed, bursting out like water through an old dam, surging like a river after the winter – the feelings she had thought withered back in Doma. Her defiance answered his defiance, and it was with a new light in her eyes that she sprang forward, darting ahead even of Vivienne, to strike at the knight with her sword.
It didn’t matter that he parried. That strike was the truest yet made in her life. Before this, yes, she had fought, and she had fought hard, for her life, for her friends, for survival and revenge and hope. They had called her ‘leader’ and she had done her best to fulfil the role. But her spirit had not been alive as now, nurtured by the pride of these people, by Aymeric’s kindness, and unleashed by the adversity of those whom, in another life, she could have been a kindred spirit to. She didn’t even know his name. But she saw it in his intense blue eyes.
Their swords met, both with an indomitable conviction. Whose, then, was stronger? As the others fought with the Temple Knights, the two of them duelled, neither giving quarter, and with every blow she gave, every blow she weathered, her intensity grew.
In course she lunged, and caught him behind his shield across his side; her blade scraped against his plate armour, carving a silver gouge in it. She did not think she drew blood, his armour was too strong, yet he fell back from her, clutching his side. Perhaps the impact had bruised him. “Gah! It is far from over!”
“Certainly, ser, but I have the upper hand,” she said, pointing her sword at him. “Let us pass, for we have no quarrel with you, only your master.”
“Never!” he cried, and raised his sword.
“Look out!” Kekeniro cried. “He’s gathering aether- so much!?”
“The power! It fills me!” The knight’s figure began to glow, and suddenly a burst of energy erupted from him, flinging them all back. She picked herself up with some disorientation – her body still had not slept since they had fought Nidhogg, though she was wide awake – and looked up… and up. His body had transformed, twelve fulms tall, his armour darkened to a dull dark grey, and a long red plume trailed from the helmet that had closed over his head.
“Let us see how you handle this!” he cried, and charged at her, leaping high into the air and coming down with his sword swinging before him.
She cried out, flinging up her shield, praying that it and she wouldn’t meet their ends here, casting Sheltron about herself. The blow fell, smashing against her shield… and somehow, some way, she kept her footing. She buckled, but did not break, and as he regained his own footing, she gasped for air and counterattacked. It felt silly, hitting at his knees, but Vivienne herself could not hit much higher, so tall was he now, a giant among Elezen.
That blade was like a cleaver, and she gritted her teeth and dodged as much as she could, letting him strike the floor instead, splintering the flagstones. His allies were all fallen or fled, yet he still fought on. Arrows, spells, Tam’s lance and Chuchupa’s axe, none of them seemed to be making much of an impression upon him. To have so much aether that he could take on all nine of them at once… surely that was too much for any one person! “Yield, and your ends shall be swift and just!” His voice was distorted, deeper.
“No!” Achiyo said, her own aether whirling about her, and she plunged her sword into his shinguard, drawing from it a dark cloud of dissipating magic as she ripped it away again.
It seemed that they had been chipping away at his extra aether the whole time, for suddenly his body glowed again and shrank, slipping back into his own form – where he was so drained he fell to one knee before them. “But… but how!?” He stared at them with wide, shaken eyes, and then Teleported away before they could do anything more to him.
“Coward!” cried Vivienne, but Achiyo did not blame him. Though she had more to think about. She was herself again, or perhaps she was truly herself for the first time since she was eight years old. She had pride, and not just as her father’s daughter, a samurai’s child, but as herself, as a Warrior of Light. Her will was set, and she would not stop until every obstacle before her was swept away.
This was no time to revel in epiphanies. The archbishop’s chambers were yet above them somewhere, and she beckoned to the others and she ran up the stairs to the higher levels. Her shield had a great crease in it, but it would probably hold against normal opponents.
With her at their head, they battered through the Vault’s defences – giant ancient mammets, golems animated from the very stone, and of course many Temple Knights. She could still hear the pipe organ from here, for the organist had begun practising again somewhile after they had left the ground floor. A dedicated musician. She could not hear much now besides the lowest notes reverberating through the very structure. It was odd.
Ser Grinnaux led another group against them on the mid-upper floor, and like the first knight below, grew in size and power. That axe was no joke to get hit by, but on Kekeniro’s orders, Vivienne had moved to the front to give Achiyo a breather. She did not need a breather, but privately did not mind not being in the sights of that massive axe. And like the first knight, he teleported away when they had struck him enough times, and he promised that they would meet again.
On the highest part of the Vault, the roof, they came out into the red-gold light of the setting sun. There was the archbishop, accompanied by one of his knights, ascending a short flight of stairs to the other side of a small courtyard. He was going up? There was no escape up there, was there? But there was no time to think about that, for in front of them stepped the mage whom they had fought earlier, Ser Charibert. He said nothing but raised his staff, and grew to enormous proportions the way the others had.
She glanced from him to the door closing behind the archbishop, and her fury welled within her. He was just fighting a delaying action. “Get out of the way!” They were so close!
“Filthy rats!” he snarled, his voice distorted, and brandished his staff. Flames burst from the air around them. Rinala and Aentfryn flinched and cast their group spells, cooling the burns.
“Achiyo, take your half of the group and go!” Vivienne ordered to Achiyo, running forward to engage Charibert with darkness boiling from her outstretched hand. “I’ll show this bastard the heresy he longs to see.”
“Tam, Rinala, Chuchupa, with me!” Achiyo cried, and ran past Charibert – he raised a wall of fire before them! She bulled through with her shield, and Tam jumped, but the others… Chuchupa sheathed her axe and made a punch of such ferocity it blasted a hole clean through the flames, and she and Rinala jumped through before they flared up again.
Achiyo had made it to the door that had closed behind the archbishop, tried the handle, and slammed herself against it. It refused to budge. “It’s locked!” Of course it would be locked, but short of breaking it down bodily, what were their options?
“I’ll try,” Rinala said, switching to her black mage staff. “Stand back!” But though she pummelled the door with fire and ice spells, scorching the white and gold surface black, it did not open.
“Look out!” Kekeniro hollered from way on the other side of the courtyard, and the four of them jumped back from the door as Charibert flung his staff in their direction, bringing down more fire right where they had been standing.
“Sickness must be purged!” he boomed.
“Okay, mister ‘filthy rats’,” R’nyath mocked him.
“We’ll have to take him out first,” Achiyo said. “Quickly!” The faster they defeated him, the faster they could turn their full might on that door. Though it was embarrassing to be halted by a mere door. The fire between them and Charibert had dwindled; he could not concentrate on all his fires at once, it seemed, and so she led them back into the courtyard at a run.
Their attacks seemed to bounce off his grey and red robes, but she paid it no mind. It was all aetherial projection. He could feel it, and it would wear him down, even if it drew no blood. At least this partly explained his acrobatics previously. So she stabbed and slashed, hopping away from the fire he flung down at them, her defiance ringing through her blade.
He growled at them all. “This shall be a mercy!” The oily aristocratic edge to his distorted voice was fraying, and he raised his staff to call down a wave of fire that covered the entire courtyard at once. She lifted her shield, but voices rose up behind her.
“Aentfryn!” R’nyath cried. “Aentfryn, get up!”
“I’ll stabilize him!” Kekeniro called. “Rinala, big heals! Go for it!” Rinala squeaked and cast again.
“Vivienne, give Li a foot up, he’s vulnerable!”
“Leave it to me!” Lilidi cried, and bounded around from behind Charibert, jumped to Vivienne’s hand, and let her catapult her forward into Charibert’s face. She slashed, and there was a flash of light.
Charibert was thrown back, and fell to the ground in his normal form. He slipped to one knee, breathing hard, gritting his teeth in disbelief. “Our power… How can this be!?”
“Well, first of all, ye’re wildly outnumbered,” Chuchupa said. “Not that I care if it’s fair or no. C’mere!” She raised her axe.
The door behind Charibert was flung open, and the head of the Heavens’ Ward, Ser Zephirin, stood there. “Fall back!” he ordered Charibert, who scrambled to his feet and began to run.
“Hold on!” Kekeniro ordered Chuchupa, who was ready to go running after him. “They might have an ambush set up, and with Aentfryn injured…” He trailed off as an airship hummed by overhead, heading for just the other side of the tower into which Zephirin and Charibert had just entered. “Never mind! We’re going anyway! Aentfryn, are you good?”
Aentfryn was climbing stiffly to his feet. “I’ll be fine. Quickly now, or it will all have been for nothing.”
“Our friends are coming!” R’nyath called, pointing to the walkway slightly below, and Achiyo looked to see Lucia and Estinien – and further back, Haurchefant partly supporting Aymeric, ahead of many Temple Knights and Alphinaud. He was safe. She could focus everything on the Heavens’ Ward.
The retreating knights had not locked the door in their haste, and Achiyo smashed it open. The Heavens’ Ward were not ambushing them, but the airship was just docking at the end of the walkway, and the archbishop was nearly to the airship-!
As she took in the situation, the other group hurried up behind them. Aymeric broke away from Haurchefant and limped a few steps further forward, and cried out loudly: “Father! Please!” She shivered at the plea in his voice, the raw emotion. He was holding his arm, his side, as if it pained him, and that limp… what had they done to him!? In less than a day?
Haurchefant turned to Tam with a grin. “We were not too late, my friend!”
“Good job,” Tam said back with a nod.
Aymeric was still focused entirely upon the archbishop, who was standing motionless facing away from them. “Why must you do this, Father!? Nidhogg is fallen! There is no need for further deception! Now is the time to renounce the lies which led us down this path – to start anew!”
Thordan answered without turning. “And tear down the very pillars of our society – our history, our values – everything we have built over a thousand years?” He grumbled disdainfully. “A fool to the last.”
Aymeric’s eyes widened, and he flinched as if he had been struck in the face. The archbishop took a step forwards.
Haurchefant glanced at Tam, and they nodded to each other. Breaking away from the group, they began to sprint down the walkway. Achiyo, after a moment’s bewilderment, began to follow, and the other Warriors of Light with her.
There was the sound of a powerful spell from one of the towers behind them, and a flash of light in the sky. “Look out!” Kekeniro screamed. “Tam!”
Haurchefant didn’t hesitate, slamming Tam out of the way and raising his shield high. A great spear of brilliant light struck it with a resounding clang, spitting shimmers of aether raining around him. Achiyo and everyone ducked at the impact, and she looked up to see Haurchefant bracing with all his might.
There was a crack from the shield.
And another.
And the bolt of light pierced through shield and body, and Haurchefant coughed blood. Achiyo felt her stomach give a sickening lurch.
He fell back, heavily, and Tam grabbed him as he plummeted to the flagstones. There was a gaping, glowing blue hole in his torso, and in the shield that now lay a few fulms away.
For a moment, no one and nothing moved. The wind blew mournfully among the turrets. Haurchefant was trying to breathe.
The archbishop stepped onto the ship and told the Heavens’ Ward knights: “Go. Azys Lla awaits.” Like nothing had happened. The airship lifted.
Tam laid Haurchefant down and seized his lance, and suddenly more wind rushed around Achiyo, a great furious unnatural wind, and Tam braced himself to jump with a haunting cry-
Estinien darted past her and seized Tam’s arm. “No! Don’t be a fool! We cannot stop them now! Look to Haurchefant!”
Aymeric had made it to Haurchefant’s side, and carefully hauled him into his arms. “Haurchefant!”
“Forgive me, old friend,” Haurchefant wheezed to him with a pained smile. “I… will not see you build the new Ishgard we always dreamed of…”
“No!” Rinala cried, and raised her staff. “Benediction!” Nothing happened. “Cure 2! T-tetragrammaton! …Why isn’t it working!?”
“His aether has been shattered,” Aentfryn said gently. “There’s naught more to do. Not even a Raise.”
“No!” Rinala wailed, and burst into tears.
Achiyo was frozen. She didn’t know what to do. She could not pursue the airship. She could not save Haurchefant. She ought to thank him for everything he had ever done for them, for his generosity, his courage, for his kindness to them all, and yet this was not the time – he had no time left and she ought not to steal it from those whom he loved most.
“Tam,” Estinien said, and led him like a child to Haurchefant’s side. Tam’s face was grey as stone as he knelt.
“Why?” he asked, and his voice was hoarse. “Oh, dear child, why?”
Haurchefant turned to him, still with that little smile. “You… you are unharmed? F-forgive me, Tam… I could not bear the thought of… of…” He trailed off to indistinct whispers, but raised his hand. Tam gripped it hard.
“Oh, do not look at me so,” Haurchefant murmured to him. “A smile better suits a hero…”
Tam’s mouth curved upwards, gently.
Haurchefant’s smile grew to see it, alight with pure, joyful love, and he sighed as his head fell back against Aymeric’s arm.
Lucia was the first to rouse from their grief-stricken reverie. “We… we must bear him home.”
Aymeric immediately began to struggle to lift him, but Tam reached out. “You’re injured, Aymeric. Let me.”
Aymeric looked up at him, opened his mouth, and shut it again. Tam gathered Haurchefant’s body into his arms, cradling him like a child. The setting sun illuminated his face beatifically as it sank into the ruin of the day.
“Do you need help?” Estinien asked.
“No,” Tam said. Though Achiyo wondered if he would accept help even if he did need it. Estinien picked up the shield, and Lucia went to support Aymeric – though Aentfryn cast a healing spell on him and already he looked less injured than he had a moment before.
It was a sad procession that made its way down the main road to Fortemps Manor. The Temple Knights dispersed back to the Congregation. Night had fallen, and there was snow in the air; there were very few out who saw them. Tam was painfully straight as he walked, and everything about him was closed off and his eyes were flat. She could not imagine his feelings.
The guards at the manor took one look and threw open the door; one of them rushed inside, calling. “My lord! My lord, they have returned, but Lord Haurchefant…”
Count Edmont threw open the inner door and came hurrying out to meet them; uncalled, Artoirel and Emmanellain came at a run. When the count saw Tam carrying his son’s body, he cried out, reaching with a shaking hand to his son’s bloody face. Tam waited.
“Bear him…” Count Edmont swallowed. “Bear him to the drawing room.”
There, Tam laid him down on a sofa. Estinien held out the shield, but the count gestured that he should lay it on the body, as if prepared for a funeral. There was no blue glow now.
Tam opened his mouth, slowly, reluctantly, but the count cut him off without looking. “Don’t. Please.” His voice shook, and he took a shuddering breath. “…A knight… lives to serve. To… protect. To sacrifice. There is no greater calling.”
The grief in his voice overwhelmed her, and she bowed her head as tears finally slipped down her face. Her thoughts drawn inexorably to the man who had trained her to fight as he had, who had died for her…
“Leave me to mourn,” said Count Edmont, “and give chase. For my son, and for the nation he loved. Go.”
Tam turned on his heel mechanically and walked out quickly. The rest slowly shuffled towards the door, as Count Edmont covered his face with a hand and slumped to his knees beside the sofa, sobs shaking his body. “My… son…”
The Warriors of Light did not immediately set out to pursue Archbishop Thordan. For one thing, Achiyo’s shield needed mending again. For another, they were all exhausted. Achiyo herself had not slept since… since before they had fought Nidhogg. That had only been the day before, but it felt like a sennight ago. So though she thought she might lie awake in sorrow, her body slipped into sleep quite quickly.
Still, she woke early, and once awake was unable to close her eyes again. The sun was barely up, yet she dressed, and went to the kitchen to ask for a pot of tea. The servants, already preparing for the day, gave her a tray with a pot and some extra cups, in case any of her companions came to find her. Thus laden, she went to the back of the manor, where there was a small garden, and a porch on the edge of it. She knelt there, taking off her shoes to sit seiza neatly on the stone floor though there were garden chairs nearby, and poured herself a cup of tea. The garden was covered in about an ilm of snow. It was very peaceful.
The first one to pass by was Artoirel. He took in her strange location, glanced at the chairs, and lowered himself heavily to sit near her. He did not know seiza and so did not look at all comfortable sitting on the floor, but at this point it didn’t look like it mattered. There were dark circles under his eyes… he had not slept.
She poured him a cup of tea. “Thank you, Lady Achiyo,” he murmured.
They sat in silence for a long while, sipping tea, watching birds play about the garden and the sun gradually peering over the edges of the walls.
“There is so much I wish I had said to him,” Artoirel said suddenly.
“Mm,” she agreed.
“Alas, as is all too often the case, it is a realization which comes too late.” He broke off and swallowed on the ‘late’. She pretended not to see him wiping his eyes.
“He was the kindest person I ever met,” Achiyo said softly. “Not once did he hesitate because of my race. I wish I had known him better, but he was the truest of friends all the same.”
“I am bound here, but you will see justice done, will you not?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Thank you, Lady Achiyo,” he said, and rose and left her.
They had to figure out how to pursue the archbishop, though for what purpose Achiyo did not clearly know. To slay him in revenge? To bring him back to explain the truth of the past, even against his will, and to rule the city through the fallout? She could not see the purpose of either course. Alphinaud suggested they speak to Aymeric on the matter, and so she and all the others who were fit to come with her set out after they had breakfasted.
Many were not fit to go yet. Tataru went rather to the Forgotten Knight as was her wont. Rinala lay abed, still weeping. Kekeniro paced his room, and Lilidi sat with him in sympathy. Even R’nyath did not feel up to it. She had absolutely no idea where Tam was; no one had seen him since he had walked out the night previously, and when she called his linkpearl he did not answer.
So she, Alphinaud, Chuchupa, Vivienne, and Aentfryn headed for the Congregation. The city seemed to be running normally, but there was uncertainty in the air. Even if the citizens did not know of the archbishop’s flight, the attack on the Vault would hardly have been missed the day previous.
Aymeric was not alone when they entered. Lucia was there, of course, but so was Estinien. Aymeric was hunched around himself in his seat, looking grim, but as they entered he lifted his head and gave them a sad half-smile. “My friends. I am in your debt.”
“Think nothing of it,” Alphinaud said. “Your wounds are healing well, I trust?” Inane small talk, trying awkwardly to fill empty space.
Aymeric’s eyes were mournful. “Some wounds… do not heal.” He looked at them all again. “I take it your other companions are resting?”
“…Yes,” Achiyo said. “It has been a difficult couple of days.”
“I cannot imagine,” Aymeric said.
“I do not know where Tam has gone, though,” she said. “I hope he has not gone off to seek revenge on his own.”
Estinien stirred. “I shall seek him out once we are done here. He is bonded to the Eye as I am. I can find him.”
“Thank you,” she said to him.
Suddenly she flinched, as her head throbbed. The Echo took her…
When she returned to the present, Alphinaud, Estinien, Aymeric, and Lucia were all staring at them; Alphinaud in curiosity, the others in confusion and concern.
“You saw something, did you not?” Alphinaud asked them all. “A vision of the past?”
“Aye,” Vivienne said. “The archbishop was most obdurate when the Lord Commander attempted to sway him to openness.”
Aymeric blinked. “So this is the power of the Echo. Would that it had shown you a finer moment from my past. ‘Twas an exercise in futility, as perhaps you saw. Faced with the firmity of his conviction, and his many ready rejoinders, my words deserted me. To be frank, I am embarrassed to recall it.”
Alphinaud shook his head with a little smile. “A friend once impressed upon me the importance of differentiating between words, deeds, and beliefs. Were he here, I suspect he would judge your father’s ‘conviction’ to be no more than rank, self-serving delusion.” Aymeric smiled a little at the reminder. “Even so, I cannot help but wonder what manner of ‘change’ he intends to bring about.”
“There’s something else we need to discuss,” Aentfryn said. “During the battle yesterday, the Heavens’ Ward transformed into larger aetherial manifestations – of themselves, and yet not themselves.”
“Aye,” Lucia said. “And the manner in which Ser Zephirin struck down Lord Haurchefant was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”
“So the others transformed as well,” Aymeric said, and mused aloud. “The spectacle calls to mind King Thordan and his knights twelve as they are depicted in scripture – holy powers and all…”
Alphinaud gasped. “Mere fabrications… which have become objects of faith… instilled with the belief of countless devoted souls… Seven hells!”
“Now you’re on to it,” Aentfryn said. “If Ysayle can use her own body as a vessel for summoning, I see no reason why others could not.”
“Are the Heavens’ Ward truly so reckless?” Lucia asked.
“Unbelievable!” Alphinaud said.
“Well, we finally ‘ave a proper casus belli,” Chuchupa said. When the others looked at her, she frowned back. “What? Learned that word from Carvallain, you ain’t got to look at me like that.”
“Chuchupa is quite right,” Alphinaud said. “But now we must find them.
“As they fled, my father spoke of ‘Azys Lla’,” Aymeric said. “Though I know not what ‘Azys Lla’ is, nor what he intends, I fear no good shall come of it. His ambitions are too great, and his minions too powerful. We must find the Heavens’ Ward, and stop my father, before it is too late.” He stood with purpose. “Lady Kensaki, Master Leveilleur, Warriors of Light: I, Aymeric, Lord Commander of the Temple Knights of Ishgard, do hereby entreat the aid of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.”
Alphinaud stared back at him frankly. “Our aid in preventing whatever it is that the archbishop intends?”
Aymeric’s mouth tightened. “Your aid in bringing him to justice. Too much blood has been spilled for the lies he perpetuated. No more.”
“We shall pursue him to the ends of the world if we must,” Achiyo said. She wondered how painful it was for him, to go against his father in this way, yet… She had seen many fathers and few of them were as cold as Archbishop Thordan. “I know some of us are not here, yet I know I can speak for them as well.”
“We’ll give ‘im the thrashing ‘e deserves,” Chuchupa said. Behind her determination was… something else, and Achiyo wondered how much she was looking forward to fighting twelve primals at once.
“His fate is sealed,” Vivienne said. “But we’d best leave Zephirin for Tam.”
“Right, right,” Chuchupa said. “We’ll thrash the others, promise ye.”
“I thank you all,” Aymeric said. “I have heard many make such pledges, but you – you speak in earnest.”
Alphinaud nodded. “Much has changed since our order’s founding, but our duty to combat the primal threat has not. If the archbishop and the Heavens’ Ward are guilty of the crime of summoning, then my friends and I will stop them.”
The tension in Aymeric’s face faded, and he reached up to rub his arm. “Would that I could join you in the pursuit, but alas, my father’s absence has thrown our government into chaos. Ever since the founding of our nation, there has been an archbishop to serve as a guiding light for the masses – a force for stability to counterbalance the High Houses’ ceaseless manoeuvring. Convincing the people to recognize the truth of our origins would have been difficult even with my father’s support. The road ahead is that much more fraught with peril without it. Yet walk it we must, for unity is more vital to our survival than ever. After all, Nidhogg’s death may not mark the cessation of Dravanian hostilities. Far from it. We will have great need of each other in the days to come.”
Estinien stepped forward. “You may ever count on my lance, Ser Aymeric. To my dying breath, I shall defend Ishgard from the Horde.”
“I know,” Aymeric said gravely.
Estinien nodded to them all. “And now I must go seek our other companion, as I said I would.” He turned and left.
Lucia raised her hand. “If I may, Lord Commander, I would like to assist the Scions in their search for the archbishop.”
“I could ask for no one better to do so,” Aymeric told her. “Thank you, Lucia. May the Fury guide you and guard you all.”
Estinien jumped from tower to turret, from parapet to rooftop, heading ever higher. Tam had not left the city; the Eye told him that much. So he climbed the outside of the Vault, until even the Hoplon looked like a small dish below. It was a very dragoon thing to do, to retreat to the highest place one could get to, and brood there. He had done it himself many a time. But few could get this high on the Vault.
He smelled Tam before he saw him, and he smelled of whisky. Estinien pressed his lips together grimly and made one more jump.
Tam was slumped against the central tower on a small overhang that just fit him and several bottles around him. His face was wet and the blue part of his hair was covering his eyes. There was still blood on his coat from where he had carried… Estinien landed on the nearest spire and balanced effortlessly on one foot. “Tam. What in the hells are you doing?”
Tam didn’t respond except to drink again.
“Tam. Get up. We have work to do.”
“He died,” Tam said. There was a slur to his words, but otherwise he was doing quite well for someone who had somehow consumed a liver-rotting amount of alcohol since the night previous. “I died… didn’t I? Ssstabbed in the gut… ssstabbed in the eye. Not enough left to make up a whole perssson. I died for him and he died for me. We all died, Yaleia. I know you won’t kill me for letting your ssson die – for getting him killed – but I wisssh you would.” He covered his left eye, the green one, his head lolling to one side.
“You’re not dead,” Estinien said, anger blossoming within him. He wanted to punch him square in his idiotic ageless face. Haurchefant was dead and the one he’d died for was drunk as a fish and talking to people who weren’t there. “How can you sit there and treat his sacrifice like… like this!?” Tam didn’t answer, so Estinien hopped forward and tore the bottle from Tam’s hand, jumping away again.
That brought Tam to his feet. “’Stinien!” He jumped after him. Even like this and he was still in control of his power to this extent…
“So you do know my name,” Estinien said, and jumped to another spire, and jumped again. They bounced around the central tower, from pillar to wall to rooftop, until they were back in their original positions. “No more of this! This is shameful!”
Tam seized one of the empty bottles and hurled it at him; Estinien caught it. No knowing where it would land otherwise, and when Tam returned to himself he certainly would not want to have accidentally murdered someone else.
“Come on!” Estinien growled. “You’re five thousand bloody years old! I’m thirty-two! Get up and act like a man!”
Tam snatched up another empty bottle, but forbore to throw it. Progress, then. “And what… what does a man do, when he just caused the death of the one who… who should not have died?” He laughed bitterly. “Why have you lot not exiled me yet?”
“What are you talking about?” Estinien demanded. “Who would exile you – for what?”
Tam swayed and dropped the bottle. Estinien jumped to his ledge to catch it so it didn’t roll off. “When someone causes the death of another person, what do you do with ‘em?” He laughed again. “Right, you lock ‘em up, kill ‘em, because your lives are short, so who cares? Even those who care about them won’t live much longer than they do. My people get exiled because death creates ripples that never end, and it’s too much trouble to lock someone up for more than a few years. Why has Count Edmont not sought justice on me?”
“Because it is not your fault!” Estinien told him. “You are not to blame – it was Zephirin and his accursed master!”
“It is my fault!” Tam snarled. “If I had not been there-“
“Then Zephirin would have aimed at another, and Haurchefant may well have protected them too!”
Tam caught Estinien by the shoulders and slammed him into the tower. The spikes on his armour grated on the stone. “I did not come to this world so you children could DIE for me!”
Survivor’s guilt. How well he knew it. He stared through his helm into those wide, mad, quivering eyes streaming tears, felt the shaking in those hands on his shoulders. “Tam… how many have you lost?”
“I…” Tam’s breath caught in his throat. “Six. I know more who have died but they… …”
“Six. In thousands of years. You’ve only lost six people you care about.” That put things into perspective. And maybe none of those six had died for him. He should count himself blessed. Estinien wanted to be angry at such unfairness, but somehow all he felt was pity. He shook his head. “All your experience and intellect, and you know not how to deal with grief. It seems immortality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He’d known this agony since he’d had but twelve summers.
Tam swayed, staring.
Estinien sighed. He was no doctor, this was out of his league. “’Tis trite to say, but do you think this is what he would want? For you to go mad by yourself, drunk out of your mind, wasting the life he chose to give you?” It didn’t matter if the life was immortal. Throwing away even a moment of it to wallow like this was wasteful. And they needed his strength.
“What he would want…?” Tam repeated slowly, like he’d never heard those words before in his life.
Estinien knew them too well. Had had them said to him, had said them to others before. “’Tis not your fault even if you do not blame our enemies – which you should. Haurchefant chose, and chose without hesitation. He loved you, whether you like it or not, and you cannot take that from him. He was your closest friend in this world, was he not? What would he want?”
Tam closed his eyes and finally let go of Estinien’s armour. He’d cut himself on it, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “I don’t know why he loved me. I don’t know. I don’t know.”
Estinien didn’t know either, but he knew Haurchefant. “He loved you for yourself. He always does – always… did. He does not want you to change or be overcome. He hardly even wants you to grieve him. Only to remember him as he was, to bear him in your heart. Think you he wanted us to hold this pain? I tell you he does not.” This was… helpful for himself, too. Even as he sought revenge for his dear friend, he knew there would be peace and acceptance afterwards. Because Haurchefant was like that.
Tam stared a minute more, and as Estinien’s words seemed to slowly penetrate his brain, crumbled to sit on the edge of the roof and sobbed.
It was like mentoring a child. Not in a disparaging way, though it was strange to see a grown man weeping so openly. His feelings were not fully formed; all that time and he didn’t understand lessons that Estinien knew intimately. Estinien would not dare claim that he was very good at dealing with his feelings – he had been nursing revenge for twenty years, and it had nearly consumed him several times – but Tam didn’t seem to know at all.
Gradually the storm dwindled. Tam sniffled and cleared his throat. He seemed to be sobering up, too. “The most difficult and painful thing I’ve ever done was face his father. And that made me think – my prince, if he lived, would have had to tell my father.” His breath caught. “I can only say I would never have had to tell his parents that he was dead, because I would have died first. Maybe I did. Why could he not have let me do that?”
“He made his choice,” Estinien repeated, after disentangling all the pronouns. “In a sense, you are fortunate. I had no chance to bid him farewell, you know.”
“I didn’t even think of that.”
“It’s all right,” Estinien said, as if to himself. “I rarely do.” He turned away so Tam would not see the tears inside his helm. It was only a few tears compared to the torrent that had flowed from Tam’s eyes, yet Estinien was proud and did not want to show it to anyone. He wasn’t upset at Haurchefant for not having the strength to say goodbye to everyone individually. They knew each other’s minds well enough to understand.
“What will you do now?” he asked at length. “Will you join with us as we search for Thordan?”
“Yes,” Tam said, with a strange note in his voice. “How?”
“I do not know yet. Your friends were beginning to puzzle that out when I left to find you. They would be glad of your aid.”
Tam stood, took a deep breath, and stretched. “Then we’d best get to it.” He paused. “Thank you for kicking my ass.”
Estinien snorted. “My pleasure.”
Aymeric was alone in his office. It was both lonely, and a moment of respite before he had to go out and deal with the High Houses, with putting the fractured Temple Knight corps back together without Lucia’s help.
His body still ached. Alphinaud had been kind enough to heal his wounds when they found him in his cell, and what Alphinaud missed, Master Aentfryn had taken care of upon the top of the Vault, but a broken arm, broken leg, broken ribs, and blistering burns didn’t just disappear even with magic. The ridiculous part was that there really was very little he could have told his interrogators even if he had wished to. He’d kept his friends’ secrets, of course, but surely his father already guessed that it was the Warriors of Light and Estinien who had told him the truth. Charibert and Grinneaux just enjoyed inflicting pain… and they especially enjoyed inflicting it on him. At least he’d still be able to wield his sword, a chirurgeon had confirmed for him. He was not done fighting for Ishgard.
The aches of his body were nothing, even a welcome distraction, from the sharp pain in his heart. He stopped pretending to read the speech he was writing for the High Houses to put his head in his hands. It was impossible that Haurchefant should be gone. He had been the best of the three of them – not as ambitious as either Aymeric or Estinien, yet effortlessly goodnatured, loyal as a chocobo, kind to literally everyone to cross his path… He had been almost a brother to Aymeric, and together with Estinien had dispelled much of the loneliness of his early life. And even as they all grew older and more responsible, he had kept in touch and supported Aymeric in everything, even if it were only to lend a willing ear or to dream about the change they wanted to see in their land.
And now he was gone, and his going left a throbbing hole in Aymeric’s numb heart. Anger, grief, betrayal, he felt them, but they were dull and meaningless. He had thrown himself into work to avoid being overcome with despair. Despair was not on the table yet. The Warriors of Light were still around.
Even that caused him pain. He had just, in essence, sent the woman he… admired to kill his father. Not that he loved his father overly much, but after the death of Vicomte de Borel, he was all the father that Aymeric had left. The fact that Thordan was wrong, that he could not act with regard for the entirety of Ishgard’s citizens, that he had to be stopped ere more died… still Aymeric wished he did not have to fight him.
“If they knew what would come of it, would they still have done it? What power could be worth such bloodshed… such sorrow…”
His desk did not answer his questions.
He took his head out of his hands and got up. “Syndael!” The young knight guarding his door stuck his head in. “Pray send for Handeloup.” He would start by putting his own house in order, before seeing to the High Houses.
“Yes, ser!”
No, the city and her people still stood. Fury willing, he would be able to hold her together while the Warriors of Light prevented worse from coming upon them. While they… while Achiyo risked her life yet again for a land not her own.
Aye, Achiyo… he had not missed the new light in her eyes. When she had stood before him and declared that she would bring his father to justice, she had looked strong enough to carry all of Ishgard by herself.
And that was well, though he did not wish it on her, for he felt so horrifically weak and useless…