It’s still strange to me how much of a cliffhanger 3.0 is compared to 4.0 or 5.0. Then again, 2.0 had a bit of a cliffhanger, with Bahamut’s roar, but even though Bahamut was in the trailer blowing up the world, it wasn’t like we’d already fought him once, and his quests ended up being the 8-man raids and not MSQ.
(Reminder: in the European medieval period, ‘small beer’ was not really considered alcoholic, everyone drank it, even children)
If you like Kekeniro and want to see much more of him from another angle, he’s a blatant expy of my tactician Ceniro from my FE7 fics.
With this, my 3.0 interpretation is complete. I’m going to take some time before getting into 3.x; I haven’t plotted out how the raids and 24-mans will fit into the timeline yet and I would like to just play the game again and see how it’s changed since… 3 years ago I last played? I’m not leaving forever, I’m really excited about the Dragonsong War, and Achiyo going back to the East in SB, and just how ShB is going to work with 8 WoL, to name just a few things.
Chapter 31: Absolution
Achiyo could not eat, could hardly drink a little water, so much was she filled with fear. It would not pass from her, no matter how she breathed, no matter that the healers all told her she was physically well and urged her to eat and regain her strength. She just couldn’t. Her stomach hurt, and not from any wound.
She felt her nose distractedly. Thordan had broken it thoroughly when he kicked her, and though Rinala’s healing had pretty much restored it to its rightful shape and place, she could feel, if she pressed the bone, shapes that had not been there before.
“That’s why you wear a helmet,” Vivienne said to her. “Gods, you’re not even the first person I’ve said that to this season.”
“I understand,” Achiyo said. “I have no excuse.” She would lose much of her vision with a helmet, but…
“Aye, we can’t have that pretty face gettin’ all smashed up!” Chuchupa said. “The Lord Commander’d be very sad!”
“Chuchupa,” Achiyo scolded her. “He would be terribly concerned if any of us came to harm.” As Estinien had done…
“Aye, but ye’re the prettiest, Princess,” Chuchupa said with a wink. “Th’ only reason my nose don’t look more busted than th’ wrecks on Hullbreaker Isle is ‘cause my nose don’t stick out far enough to show.”
“He’d like her even if she did have a crooked nose, though,” R’nyath said.
“Oh, yeah, ye’re right…”
“Does Sir Aymeric really admire Achiyo?” Y’shtola asked with idle curiosity. “He would not be the first nor the last, I’m sure. Or vice versa.”
Achiyo rose to her feet, her stomach churning restlessly. “That is only a malicious rumour. How can you think of such things right now?”
Chuchupa shrugged. “There’s no use gettin’ upset over Nidhogg. We ain’t fightin’ ‘im now, so we need to rest up to be ready for when we do. I bet ye anythin’ ‘e’s gone to do the same, both ‘is Eyes got real roughed up just now an’ ye can be sure Estinien didn’t give in easily. He didn’t wanna fight us now, he ran. He can’t just up and attack Ishgard this minute.”
“Chuchupa is right,” Aentfryn said. “Sit down, Achiyo. There is nothing you can do about it this instant.”
“I know,” she said, pacing. “Yet I cannot. I cannot. Pray stop telling me.”
“You’re in shock,” Aentfryn said. “Be patient. It will pass.”
“I hope it does soon.” She hated feeling this way, not only from the intense anxiety but from the lack of focus that came with it. Normally she was very patient, but this…
R’nyath put his head on one side and spoke softly, like he didn’t want to offend her. “He’s not going to be angry, you know. He isn’t going to blame us.”
She looked at him sharply, then deflated. “I know. And yet I do not want to disappoint them. With Estinien gone…”
“I cannot believe him dead,” Alphinaud said. “You said Nidhogg chose him for a ‘vessel’, correct? Then I shall cleave to the hope that he can yet be saved.”
“There’s got to be something we can do,” Kekeniro said, sitting slumped with his head on Lilidi’s shoulder as she cuddled him. “Once we’ve had a rest, I’ll be researching dragons again.”
Well, if even Kekeniro felt this way, and he usually felt nearly as responsible as she, then perhaps she really was overreacting. It did not quiet her gut, but she took a deep, shaky breath, and sat down again.
It was not long before the white and gold spires of the city were jutting up under them, and Cid brought the Enterprise Excelsior in for a perfectly soft landing at the airship dock in the Pillars. It was strange to think that they had set out just that morning and dusk was only just beginning to come on, but it was the height of summer and the day was long in the north. There was a small party awaiting them, Aymeric, Lucia, Tataru, the lords of House Fortemps… and a number of Temple Knights, who raised their bows as they saw Midgardsormr following Cid, with Tam on his back.
Aymeric put up his arm to halt their arrows, and smiled at Tam. “I daresay you are the first soul in Ishgardian history to arrive in our city upon dragonback. This scene shall be remembered for a thousand years to come.”
“That was the idea,” Tam said, sliding off.
Achiyo led the group forward. “Aymeric-sama. Archbishop Thordan is gone.” He nodded, no hint of pain crossing his face now. He’d expected that. “Within Azys Lla, he summoned the soul of King Thordan unto himself and thence became a primal. He intended to become a god, to Temper all souls to him and create peace by removing dissent. It came to battle, and he and his knights are no more.” She could see him counting their number, and felt her stomach twist again, but now that he was before her, her strength had returned. She could meet his eyes; she could tell him as it was her responsibility to do, equal to equal.
Midgardsormr took over from her. “Your struggles are not yet over, mortals.”
Aymeric’s eyes widened as he realized that the dragon was just as Spoken as the rest of them, and he stammered in his reply. “Whom… do I have the pleasure…?”
“I am Midgardsormr. I have journeyed with Hydaelyn’s champions and observed their deeds in the conflict between man and dragon.” Midgardsormr crawled forward to look Aymeric in the face, which made the Temple Knights very nervous, but Aymeric did not flinch. “Tell me, children of Thordan. Do you desire peace?”
Without hesitation, Aymeric knelt and bowed his head before the dragon. Lucia followed instantly, and after a hesitation, so did the Temple Knights and House Fortemps. “My people have committed unspeakable atrocities against dragonkind – even against our own. Would that we could undo these wrongs… but we cannot. Be that as it may, the future yet presents a chance to begin anew. Our nation has broken free of the shackles of a false faith, and Nidhogg shall lead his kindred against us no more. I doubt not that it will require much effort and perseverance, but ‘tis my belief that, in time, Ishgard will again become a place where man and dragon may abide together in harmony.”
“I shall remember thy words,” said Midgardsormr. “Yet be warned: Nidhogg’s soul liveth on. His unbridled rage hath claimed for its vessel the one thou callest the Azure Dragoon.”
“Estinien!” Aymeric gasped, going pale, and got to his feet. Her heart hurt for him.
“Doubt not but that Nidhogg will call out to his brood ere long, nor that they shall answer him,” Midgardsormr said. “Steel yourselves, for the true test is yet to come.”
Aymeric rallied and answered passionately. “Come what may, we will never cease to believe. Upon the souls of they who have sacrificed themselves to pave the way for peace, we will never abandon our cause.”
Midgardsormr stared him down. “A thousand-year war cannot be ended in a day. It may take generations. What thou dost begin, thy children must continue.” Aymeric nodded. “Entrust unto them thy hopes and dreams, that peace may reign again… and forevermore.” Midgardsormr took a step back, spread his wings, and lifted into the air.
They watched him go, and then Achiyo was recalled to herself by Aymeric’s voice again. “I greatly wish to hear the tale in full, but you all look desperately weary. I would bid you rest. Would it be agreeable for us to meet tomorrow morn?”
“Yes,” Aentfryn said, before Achiyo could do more than open her mouth, and that was probably a good thing, because she had just been about to offer to report immediately. “Everyone needs a good night’s sleep before anything else.”
“Indeed, come back to the manor with us,” Count Edmont said to them. “Rest for the night, and we shall see what is to be done tomorrow.”
She followed him up the street and wondered if she would sleep anyway.
The tale was thrilling, shocking, and grievous, Aymeric reflected in his office the next day. The first thing that came to mind was how grateful he was that nearly everyone was alive and well. Estinien’s loss was a great blow, to him personally, but also in that Nidhogg had neatly negated his greatest threat. But it could have gone much, much worse. He had not thought that his father would be that great a threat, even as a primal.
Especially when he remembered how they had looked upon disembarking from the airship the eve previous. Achiyo had been so pale, she had looked ill, and there had been blood on her armour that looked like her own. And she had not been alone; several of the others had clearly been badly wounded, like Master Aentfryn. They had not gone into great specifics about the battle, not even Chuchupa, but he could read enough into it. They had endured so much on Ishgard’s behalf, and the rest of the city would never appreciate it.
They looked much better today. Even if, at the end of the tale, Achiyo had bowed very low to him – bent a perfect right angle from the waist, her hands on her knees – and said: “Though we could not have known it would happen, I cannot but feel we failed. We protected Ishgard from a primal, but we also unleashed her greatest enemy once more. I… formally apologize and take all responsibility…”
“No, do not,” he said to her, and her friends too moved as if they wanted to stop her from saying such things. He wished he could do more to comfort her, to convince her. “You did not fail. No one could have done more than you already did. Yet though I should not ask even more of you…”
“What can we do?” she asked immediately, straightening up, and he was relieved. He had not thought she would deny him, but he had not wanted to assume either.
“If you would stand by us as we face Nidhogg, it would mean a great deal,” he said. “You fought him before, even if he was at but half his strength. To know you fight with us now would bring hope to all.”
“Of course!” Chuchupa spoke up immediately. “We ain’t missin’ out on a fight that big!”
“We won’t leave you in the lurch,” R’nyath said cheerfully, ears and tail flicking hopefully.
“We shall stand with you,” Achiyo assured him, and her beautiful, mysterious eyes were filled a dauntless resolve. Though he had a furtive suspicion that she still felt obligated to ‘make up’ for what could not have been avoided, and wished she wouldn’t.
Yet she was honourable, and had said she liked Ishgard. He believed that even if she didn’t feel responsible, she would have freely joined him.
He nodded to them all. “Thank you. With your aid, I have faith that we may still survive the coming storm.” He quirked a smile. “I must say, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are in some sense quite terrifying. It only took you a few moons to drive the Empire from Eorzea, and a few moons to uncover the truth of a thousand-year war. Do nations always upheave when you visit?”
“I don’t know! I mean, that’s about all we’ve done, if you don’t count the secret and not-secret primal-slaying stuff,” R’nyath said.
“We’ve only been t’gether a bit more’n a year!” Chuchupa said. “Give us some time!”
“It’s entirely by accident,” claimed Vivienne.
“No, it’s because we want to help, and we’re a good team,” Rinala said.
“I for one am looking forward to seeing what you do next,” Lucia said, echoing his smile.
“As am I,” he said. “But I am keeping you overlong. Pray leave things here to me for a while. Should I have need of you, I will call.”
“Thank you, Aymeric-sama,” Achiyo said with a bow still more formal than she had done in the past, and the others chorused their thank yous as they headed out – hopefully to rest and recover.
He still didn’t know how he was going to word it when he informed the rest of the High Houses. Of course he was going to tell the truth, but telling it so that they believed him… that was going to be difficult. He had not been there. Estinien could not bear witness. And the other High Houses did not care for adventurers at the best of times.
What choice did they all have, though? His father was gone and nothing Aymeric could do would bring him back. The truth of the Dragonsong War was out and if not for the honour of Hilda and the uncertainty of the archbishop’s flight, the city would already have drowned in revolution. He had been working upon the nobles ever since the truth had become known, that they all had been deceived by their leaders since their founding, and it seemed to him that most of them were at least coming around to the idea that the archbishop had been grasping at power that no mortal should hold. It would be easier now that he had specifics. If they believed him.
There was yet much to be done. He could at least push through Ishgard’s membership back into the Eorzean Alliance. No one would deny him that, with the news that Nidhogg was returned in strength.
Tam walked up the snowy path with both Corbelle and the unicorn following him; he had intended to take Corbelle at least, but she was not the brightest being and probably didn’t get the significance, and the unicorn had insisted, for his sake or so she implied, so he had company.
He was not the first one at the grave. A boy in green was kneeling there, lost in prayer. Tam walked to one of the ancient stone pillars nearby and leaned against it, waiting.
When the boy finished his prayer, he stood, gazing out over the city across the chasm, and then turned – and jumped. “Oh! Hello, Master Tam.”
“Hello, Lyrestan,” he said, not even bothering to try to keep things straight. It didn’t really matter.
The boy gave him a confused look. Maybe he was a bit young for Lyrestan. “My… name is Francel.”
“I know,” Tam said. “Sometimes.” He looked at the view. He had not really wanted so many people around. Francel, Corbelle, the unicorn… Couldn’t he have some privacy to talk to his dead friend in peace?
“They said you were there with him. At the end. Tell me… tell me it was…” Francel choked back tears. “Forgive me, I haven’t the words. Is that his… shield?”
“Yes,” Tam said. “…He died with a smile.”
“Thank you,” Francel said on the edge of hearing.
“There you are,” said Alphinaud’s voice, and Tam gave up on ever having solitude again. Tataru was following the youth with a bouquet of lilies. “A noble monument to a noble soul. Hello, Lord Francel.”
“From here, Lord Haurchefant can watch over all of Ishgard,” Tataru said, and laid down her bouquet at the foot of the gravestone.
“He was rather fond of these cliffs, you know,” Francel said to them. “The way he would look at the city, with a smile that wasn’t quite, and eyes that held the whole of the world…” He stopped for emotion and looked out at the city again himself, biting his lips together. “I would give anything to know what he felt in those moments.”
“Love,” Tam said. Pride and hope were decent runners-up, though. His prince had looked that way constantly. Francel was good with words.
“It has been a long and arduous journey,” Alphinaud said. “And we have lost much and more along the way. Yet come what may, we must stay true to our purpose and press on.”
“That’s right!” Tataru cried. “It’s high time we got back to rebuilding the Scions! Which means we’re going to need money – and lots of it!”
Tam walked off. Alphinaud might be heartened by Tataru’s bright and squeaky energy. Haurchefant would adore it. But he could not deal with them all right now. Fortunately, he went so silently that they did not see him go, and he could wait from the cliff nearby until they left.
When they had gone back down the mountain, he came out of hiding and walked past the gravestone to sit at the end of the cliff, boots dangling over the abyss. “Well. It is a nice spot.”
He imagined the boy sat next to him, and if he didn’t look, he couldn’t tell if his hair were raven-black or wolf-silver. If the eyes that held the world were emerald-green or steel-grey as they gazed out with him.
“You want me to keep helping them?” Tam asked the wind. “Of course you do. You always were one for the people, like your father. Even if you could never be tied down, like your mother. But I was only ever for you.” No, that was for green eyes and raven hair, who was not dead. But the other had been like to the prince, close enough that he could not refuse him. If he really wished Tam to fight on to save his people, then Tam would.
It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, anyway. The world should have had the boy’s smile more than it needed his lance. They missed him so much down in Camp Dragonhead.
He wished a little that the amulet hadn’t been buried under the ground with the body, that it could have been set into the gravestone, so that all who came would know that here lay a true knight – but no one knew the significance except him, so it would only have been stolen at the earliest opportunity. Better that it lie by the heart that deserved it. Besides, he had the culturally appropriate memorial with him.
He stood and turned back to the grave, pulling the broken shield from his back. He leaned it on the headstone, wedging it between a few stones to ensure it wouldn’t fall down again easily. The black chocobo and white unicorn came up behind him, expressing support each in their own way.
“You really are more foolish than my prince,” Tam said to the shield. “You know we went to a place that shouldn’t exist? That the world’s probably going to end again? That your brothers are actually getting along for once? All because you had to fall in love with some old jerk.”
He thought he heard laughter.
R’nyath preened as he waited by the Skysteel Manufactory’s main door, running his hands through his hair, smoothing down the fur on his ears. He had his rifle, his bow, and Stephanivien had been more than happy to let him use the practice range on an off-day evening. Now all he needed was a girl…
“Waitin’ for someone?” said a voice, and he turned to see Hilda striding up in her regular clothes. Stunning as ever.
“Hey!” he said, grinning brightly. “Good to see you. How’ve you been?”
“Not bad, and yourself?”
“I’m doing great,” he said. “Shall we?”
“It’ll be good to see Lord Stephanivien again,” she said as they headed inside. “It’s been a while since I was last here. How’d you come to know him?”
“Perks of being a hero,” he said with a wink and tossing his red hair out of his eyes. She swatted in his general direction. “Nah, I’ve been working with Ste- uh, Lord Stephanivien since I came to Ishgard – I wandered into the Manufactory out of pure curiosity, and he just latched on to me! Now I’m his star machinist besides Rostnsthal… and Joye… Actually, he has a lot of good machinists… Hi, Stephanivien!”
“R’nyath! Hilda!” Stephanivien was all over smiles, looking up from making adjustments to a new design of aetherotransformer and spreading his arms in extravagant welcome. “Good to see the both of you. Your weapons lack not for care?”
“We’re all set,” Hilda said, unholstering her gun and stroking it fondly. “The yard’s open?”
“At your leisure,” Stephanivien said, waving vaguely towards the door that led to the lower stairs.
The stairs were well-lit and R’nyath had walked them many times by now, coming out into a small yard on a lower level of Ishgard. There were brightly-painted targets along the railing, some of them on aether-powered rails to move side to side or up and down. And plenty of sandbags around in case of discharge accidents. “I should have guessed when I saw you had a firearm, but how do youuuu know Stephanivien?”
Hilda laughed. “Much the same way as you, I expect. Except when we bumped into each other on the street, I just saw a nobleman, and I hated nobleman, so I… gave ‘im a piece of my mind for wanderin’ into my home turf. And then he gave me a weapon.”
“What, just like that?” He laughed.
“Well, near enough,” Hilda said. “Didn’t ask for aught in return, and it didn’t take long for me to figure out he wasn’t a bad sort – for a noble. Still quite a few other noble bastards I’d like to ne’er see again.”
“Don’t blame you,” R’nyath said, as they arrived in the yard. “Would you like the first shot, my lady?”
“Call me ‘lady’ again and I’ll shoot bits outta your ears,” she said, and he grinned. “I’m serious!” But she stepped up to the line and took a shot.
It was really relaxing, just tracking targets without having to worry about what weapons, spells, or bits of terrain might be headed his way. But it wasn’t long before his competitive side perked up its fluffy ears and started trying to make it a game. They switched to the mechanized moving targets, and then as things picked up, Celestaux brought out a mechanical chocobo for them to ride to really make aiming difficult.
And R’nyath began to miss. “Ahh, I haven’t been doing this long enough…”
“A likely excuse,” Hilda teased him. She was still nailing it every time, and throwing in little flourishes that caught his admiration. “Well, you brought your bow as well, gonna show me any tricks with that?”
He grinned. He was still more comfortable with his bow, a weapon he’d begun learning when he was about six, than his rifle. “Watch this.” Now those same shots were easy, even on ‘chocobo-back’. He couldn’t breath with a rifle the same way he could with a bow.
“Neat,” Hilda said. “You are pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” he exclaimed in mock disbelief. “You really want me to try harder, huh?” He scrambled to standing on the mechanical chocobo, letting its motion rock under his feet, and loosed an arrow. Still a bullseye. And he jumped to a piece of scaffolding, hanging upside down by his knees, and loosed again. He hadn’t done these sort of tricks in a few years, but he still got it. He did a flip-spin to land back on the ground with a swirl of brightly-coloured sashes, loosing one more arrow as he did, and struck a pose. This was perfect. This was exactly what he’d hoped she’d let him show her.
“All right, all right,” Hilda said, laughing. “There might be some here who rival you for accuracy, but very few for acrobacy. Or flamboyance. Who taught you?”
“Ah, my little brother’s mom. She taught all us kits with the bow, and actually most of us stuck with it. Most of us joined the God’s Quiver in Gridania, at least for a couple years.”
“Oh, did your mom…” Hilda looked away and tried to ask her question delicately.
There was no need for that! “My mom’s fine! But she’s more of a tracker than an archer, so she taught us different skills. And my sisters’ mom is a botanist, so she taught us that. Though that didn’t really stick with me like the others.”
“I’m… confused,” Hilda said. “Your parents… do… polyamory?”
Oh. He laughed. “Let me explain about Sun Seeker tribes. In my core family, there’s my dad, R’mon Nunh, of the Black Shroud R-territory, and then my other mom R’vezoso Romh, she had my two older sisters, R’sahza Mon and R’selhah Mon, and then there’s my mom, R’megi Astau, and she had me and another two sisters, R’limhe Mon and R’ferthami Mon, and then there’s my other other mom, R’zefu Haavri, and she had my little brother, R’inwa Tia, and just one little sister, R’lhithre Mon.” He wasn’t getting into his dad’s other wives, or his aunts and uncles who also lived in the Black Shroud, he didn’t want to be here all day.
Hilda stared. “Big family. I can’t keep track of that.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to. There are R Tribe folks all over Eorzea, it’s too big and scattered to sum up. So yeah, it’s tradition for a male, a Nunh, to collect a group of females around him to breed with. There’s always more girls than boys, like in population numbers just more girls get born. And the boys fight over who gets to be Nunh, obviously; my dad’s fended off a few challengers over the years – mostly other R-tribe males from outside our group.” He shrugged. “I dunno if I want to fight my dad. Maybe I don’t wanna be a Nunh at all. Plenty of Tias don’t. Maybe I just wanna find one special person and make that person specially happy.” He winked at her.
She had a lot to think about, it seemed. “That’s so different from anythin’ I’ve ever heard before. Oh, there’s a couple Miqo’te hunters out in Tailfeather, but few enough that their family lives never came up, y’know?”
He nodded. “It usually doesn’t. And it’s just Sun Seekers, so if you know any Moon Keepers – like sweet Rinala – they generally pair off like most other Spoken. Though there’s more girls than boys with them, too.”
“So what makes you interested in me over a cute kitty-girl?” Hilda asked. “Sounds like you’d be spoiled for choice there.”
He slung his bow on his back and picked up his rifle. “That sounds like a question best discussed over some hot mulled wine, aye? I think we’re pretty well done here. Did you have fun?” Oh, he was going to wax lyrical about her awesomeness – in song, if she let him…
“I did.” Hilda’s scarlet eyes narrowed despite her smile. “How’d you know I love hot mulled wine?”
“I asked Gibrillont,” R’nyath said smugly. “Shall we?”
The Au Ra and the small Elezen stared at the moogle. Everyone tended to do that, Vivienne reflected, stifling a sigh – but she shouldn’t be unfair. Even before she’d become a person of interest to the moogles in becoming a Warrior of Light, she’d seen glimpses of them while growing up in the Black Shroud that others hadn’t… an early manifestation of the Echo, perhaps, she now wondered. And now she saw moogles entirely too much…
“Welcome to Moghome, kupo!” squeaked the moogle – Moggie – enthusiastically. “The little one must be Rielle, which makes the big one Sid, right?”
“…Yes,” Sidurgu said after another stare. “I presume you are one of the ‘tiny beings’ of whom the dragon spoke.” He glanced down after an awkward pause. “Rielle, say something to the moogle. …Rielle.”
Rielle was silent, looking at the ground.
“Rielle!”
“…I’m sick of this charade,” Rielle said, and Vivienne blinked, for that was so close to what Fray had said to her… “You tell me to talk, but then you refuse to listen. You tell me you’re doing this for me, but then you go on about the ‘darkness’ and the ‘abyss’! Am I supposed to be grateful when you come back covered in blood? When I put you back together so you can do it again!? You drag me to halfway across the world so you can discover a new way to kill yourself, and you tell me it’s for my sake!?” Finally she looked up at him with a tired, hurting glare. “Why are we here, Sidurgu!? Tell me the real reason!”
She’d used his full name, at least his full given name. He took a startled step back. “Rielle, I… of course it’s for your sake!”
“Well, you’ve certainly had a lot of practice saying it, haven’t you.” Rielle’s sarcasm was sharp as a knife. “I’m sure the next fair maiden will appreciate it!”
“What are you saying!?” Sidurgu growled, his temper flaring. “It’s not like that, Rielle!” He glared at Vivienne. “And you! Say something, damn you!”
“Why? You’re doing such a marvellous job on your own,” Vivienne drawled. The man had to learn how to communicate sometime.
“Ahhh, I think I’m beginning to understand this whole ‘darkness’ concept, kupo!” cried the moogle happily. “Harnessing the power of your emotions or some such, yes? I’m reminded of an ancient legend about a moogle named Mog – rather simple name, I know, but those were simpler times, kupo! Anyway, Mog had a penchant for dancing, and-“
“Wait, wait.” Sidurgu’s ire was blunted by confusion. “What does dancing have to do with the dark arts?”
“Everything, kupo! Everything! The point is, your master was absolutely right when he told you to ‘submit to the flame’. You just never figured out what he meant by it. But better late than never, kupo! Master Moggie will show you the way! First, you two Dark Knights will need to pull four sprigs of pomwort each. Hop to it, kupo!” He clapped his little paws.
Sidurgu huffed. “I fail to see what purpose this serves, but fine. You will have your precious pomwort.”
“Oh, and Rielle can stay here with us while you’re away!”
Sidurgu looked at Rielle. Rielle looked at Sidurgu, and her stormy expression gave away nothing.
He sighed. “Let’s go, Vivienne.” He stomped off.
Vivienne looked at Rielle and shrugged. “Men.”
Rielle’s expression softened a little. “…Look after him, will you?”
“Sure.”
She caught up to him on top of Moghome, muttering to himself. “Strength is pain. Strength is suffering. Strength is sacrifice… Gah! Sod this!” He threw the sprigs he’d collected onto the ground violently; they drifted down lightly, defying him.
“What, your task too easy for your liking?” she demanded, kneeling a little way away to investigate the tussock of plants herself. “Would you prefer to slay a monster? Something deadly? Be glad the obvious moogle busy-work doesn’t involved cleaning. This time.” He was impatient with fear, she guessed – the impending battle with Countess de Caulignont focusing all his attention. He’d barely reacted to her returning alive from the Warriors’ recent ordeal, which could have annoyed her had she not understood.
Sidurgu took a deep breath to put his thoughts in order, sitting back on his heels. “I would fight anything to learn what’s up with Rielle. She’s never spoken like that before. Has seeing her mother filled her with so much despair? I thought she had been bearing with it well, while you were away.”
“You’re a dumbarse,” she said bluntly.
He looked at her in angry confusion. “Why? In what way?”
She refused to say anything more.
The two Dark Knights trudged along the road in the direction of Zenith, of Asah, their swords freshly cleaned of tulihand blood. Sidurgu sighed. “…What in the hells are we doing, Vivienne? What could moogles possibly know about mastering the dark arts?”
“Nothing,” Vivienne said. “But I have a suspicion that’s not the lesson they’re trying to teach…”
There came a laugh that sounded like it was trying to be sinister. Unfortunately it was as squeaky as a newborn kitten. “Mwahahaha! Foolish fools!” Vivienne looked up to see a pair of armed moogles fluttering towards them.
Sidurgu was not impressed. “…Right then. What’s all this?”
“While you two were busy gathering pomwort and slaying tulihands, we kidnapped Rielle, kupo! Mwahaha!” The little moogle shook with glee. Vivienne gave it an annoyed look… but she felt Sidurgu go still. She wondered how much it would break his brain to point out that Rielle was safe from her mother here. But if Rielle really had been kidnapped…
The other moogle flapped its little arms. “Oh yeeesss, kupo! We’ve had so much fun playing together! So much fun indeed, kupo!”
“So much fun that we thought we might keep her here forever! Mwahaha!”
Sidurgu’s eyes narrowed to aquamarine slits of pure rage. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“If you don’t believe us, go and look! You’ll never find her, kupo! Not in a million years!” “Mwahaha! She’s ours, kupo! You’ll never see her again! Mwahaha!” They were getting sing-songy in their smugness. Though… their smugness dropped a coldness into the pit of her stomach. The more smug they were, the more serious they were. For moogles.
“You… you furry little shites!” Sidurgu exploded, and went for his sword. “Give her back to me, now! Or I swear, I will kill every last one of you and burn your village to cinders!”
Fighting against the coldness inside her was a hot fury, threatening to break through her control. Fray wasn’t thinking rationally either. But the moogles didn’t seem intimidated by Sidurgu’s oath. Unusual, and concerning.
“Mwahaha!” cried the moogle with the sword. “Do your worst, kupo!”
Sidurgu was already moving, leaping in blindingly fast. The moogle fluttered aside. “You miss your Rielle, kupo! Well, too bad! She’s our Rielle now, kupo!” It attacked back with its little sword, bonking him in the head with it. It made a decidedly wooden ‘thunk’.
Sidurgu swung viciously, channelling all the magic within him; it flared out of him in red-black flames, exploding in the air around him with sharp bursts of energy. Moogles scattered with little yelps. “I’m going to rip that pom off your head and shove it down your godsdamned throat!”
“Keep your eyes open, Sidurgu.” Vivienne moved behind him, slightly less reckless. She too wanted Rielle back, but moogles were tricksters, and there was no way this was a straightforward fight.
She was proven right a moment later as more moogles popped up from behind a piece of ancient ruin. She smacked them both with an Unmend and they zoomed in on her, brandishing magic and arrows. Sidurgu’s raging aura burned Salted Earth into the ground around him; she hadn’t even seen him cast. “Give her back to me! Give her back!” His voice was shaking.
They sneered. “You just don’t get it, do you, kupo? She’s gone! Forever! Mwahaha!” Even more moogles popped out, fluttering around them all, battering them with spells and wooden weapons. “It doesn’t matter how hard you fight, kupo! You’re never going to see her again!”
It didn’t hurt that much, actually, but if this continued, she was going to lose it like Sidurgu already had. Especially without the grounding influence of the other Warriors of Light.
“What? Are you gonna cry now, kupo? Go on then! Cry! Cry for me, kupo!”
“I think he is, kupo! Look!”
Sidurgu had raced past ‘lost it’ into ‘full-blown panic attack’, teeth bared as tears ran from his eyes. He let out a wild howl of grief and rage. “Die, damn you, die!”
Finally, his greatsword connected solidly with a furry little body, sending it spinning and tumbling to the hard ground. The moogles all squeaked, and their healer cast a panicked heal on the wounded one.
“Yeowch!” it squeaked, feeling its torso as if not sure it was healed yet. “Y-you could really hurt someone, carrying on like that, kupo!”
“That’s the bloody point!” Sidurgu snarled, and brought his sword down again, resting it on top of the moogle’s chest. “Now tell me where she is if you want to live!”
“W-wait, wait!” The moogle somehow wriggled out from under the sword and fluttered away. Its companions escaped from Vivienne to join it in a huddle of terrified whispered discussion – all but the healer, who hadn’t been paying attention, and bounced off the outside of the huddle. And except for the rogue-type, who had found a quiet spot to nap instead of fighting. Gutsy.
The healer flailed and turned to the slowly, dangerously advancing Dark Knights. “Why do you want her back so badly, kupo!?”
“What kind of question is that!?” Sidurgu demanded, and sniffled the last of his tears away. Somehow even that vulnerable noise sounded threatening. “You kidnapped her!”
“But you don’t seem to like having her around that much anyway, right? She’s just a burden to you. So why do you care what happens to her?”
Sidurgu’s sword faltered for the first time. “I… I swore an oath. To protect her. That’s what we Dark Knights do…”
Another moogle with an axe swooped in, bumping the healer out of the way. “You think that will give you strength enough to protect her!? Duty and honour? I’ll tell you what you need, kupo!” They quickly fluttered into a formation and began to dance… and sing. “Whence comes true strength to defend the meek? Is it honour? Is it justice? How blaaand! Could it be that the darkness is born of a light? A flame burning for another? How graaand! ‘Tis love! ‘Tis love! All-powerful, shining loooooove!”
“Shut up! Shut your bloody little traps!” Vivienne shouted at them, lifting her sword. Sidurgu was frozen in disbelief. “I did not endure blood, fire, death, Calamity, and primals to be assaulted by that noise!”
“Well, it’s rather blunt, I’ll admit, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be your strong suit, kupo,” said another moogle voice, and Vivienne looked around to see Moggie again… with Rielle behind him.
“Rielle!” Sidurgu gasped.
Now that the plan was revealed, Vivienne was kicking herself for a fool. Of course the moogles wouldn’t bring Rielle to harm. This had all been to put Sidurgu into a frame of mind, to force him to reveal his true feelings. Well, they were better manipulators than she was. …If they starting singing again, though, she wouldn’t swear to their remaining in one piece…
“Well, here we are,” said Moggie gently. “Go on, Rielle. Say your piece.”
Rielle took a deep breath… and lowered her head even more than it already was. “I know you and Fray were trying to do right by your master – that you came to my defence because you believed that’s what he would’ve wanted. And I know you only did that because you believed it would make you stronger, because all you truly care about is killing more Temple Knights! I’ve seen how you look at them – how you curse them under your breath. How you relish every opportunity to cut them down. So don’t tell me that it’s all been for me! Don’t tell me that Fray died for me!” Her voice shook, but no tears ran down her cheek.
Sidurgu sheathed his sword and took a step towards her. And another, and another, until he was standing directly before her. But they were both avoiding each other’s gaze. “…Everything I have done, I have done for my mother and my father. For my master, and yes… most of all, for me.” Now he looked at her. “I haven’t been honest with you, nor with myself… and for that I am sorry. I will stand for you in this coming trial, but after… What happens after will be your decision.”
Rielle’s eyes widened, and she looked up at the towering, proud… humbled Au Ra. Trying to gauge in his dark-sclera’d eyes how sincere he was. And resolution settled on her face. “Good. That’s a promise.”
“Aye,” Vivienne said, walking up to them. It was different than what Fray had taught her, in the courtyard of Whitebrim Front, but it was no less valid. “It took me a long time to learn this lesson, too. My guardian tried to help me. To say the words I needed to hear. But I wouldn’t listen to him either. Only when my little brother nearly got hurt… You are lucky this was all staged.” She looked at Rielle.
“It needed to be said,” Rielle said.
“It did,” Vivienne said. “Well done.”
Sidurgu rubbed the back of his head in chastened irritation. “Yes, yes, I’ve been told I’m a dumbarse. Can we go back now? Moogles are all bollocks.”
“We’ll go back,” Rielle said. “We need to prepare for this trial.”
The trial was upon them in a couple more days. Vivienne stayed with the other two now, in the room next door to theirs. And she was, in fact, the one to collect the notice that Countess de Caulignont would be waiting for them in the Western Highlands in one day’s time.
Sidurgu was not saying much, as usual, but it was different from before. He was not really brooding. There was some sort of calm about him. And when Vivienne brought the summons to him, all he said was: “If aught should happen to me… keep Rielle safe.”
Rielle was more forthright. “I want you to know that I’m truly grateful for the time we shared. You, Sidurgu, and Fray taught me so much about the world. About what it means to fight for another… and what it means to fight for yourself.”
“I need no thanks,” Vivienne said. “Just hold those lessons in your heart.”
Rielle gave her a determined nod. “We’re going to finish this together. The three of us.”
Vivienne gave Sidurgu a look, but even now he didn’t wait the aid of the other Warriors of Light. Fine. He had his pride. But once Rielle could show her face publicly, Vivienne was introducing them both to the Scions, godsdammit.
They were early to the meeting place; at least, Vivienne hoped it was the meeting place. Everything looked the same in this blasted land buried in sunlit snow under the pale blue sky. That was the problem with wide-open spaces, everything looked the same and everything looked closer together than it really was. She preferred forests and caves.
The countess did not take long to arrive, and she had Temple Knights with her. “You came. A wise decision.” She stared at Rielle; Rielle stared back grimly. “You have his eyes. His nose, his lips…”
“Must have been a good-looking fellow,” Vivienne muttered under her breath, and Rielle made a little inhalation.
“Every time I look at you, I see more and more of him. And it sickens me.”
“Rielle is not her father!” Sidurgu growled, but he was trying to sound reasonable. “You had no right to punish her for what he did!”
“Who are you to stand in judgement of me!?” cried the countess. “I have every right! I bore that monster into this world, and by the Fury, I shall send it to the seventh hell!” She drew her staff; the Temple Knights drew their swords. “If you’re so bloody fond of it, you can follow it there!”
Sidurgu looked down at Rielle, tiny, fragile, indomitable beside him. “It’s just us now – no one else. Remember Fray’s conjury. Protect us, and we’ll protect you.”
“Right, then,” Rielle said, just like Sidurgu did, and Vivienne smiled to herself as the Dark Knights drew their swords and moved to face the incoming knights.
“Go forth, brave knights of Ishgard!” called the countess. “The Fury watch over and protect you!”
“Behind us!” Vivienne snapped, doubling back. “I’ve got them!” Two more knights with spears had appeared from behind a rock.
“So much for a fair fight,” Sidurgu observed, casting Unleash. “Stay close to me, Rielle!”
“Be without fear in the face of the heretics!” Ystride cried. “Forward, I say! Forward!” Another wave of knights dashed forward at her command. They surrounded the trio, and Sidurgu and Vivienne backed together, setting Rielle between them, Rielle whose breath was coming quick and nervous but who cast her spells on time, shielding them with Protect, healing their bruises and cuts even as the Temple Knights jabbed and stabbed at them. A few more years and she’d be recommending Rielle join the Scions if she was already this good at healing.
“Just how many did she bring!?” Sidurgu said, ducking a sword-swipe and making a huge slash that opened a knight’s armour and the ribcage underneath. The snow was rapidly churning into red-stained slush around them.
“Archers!” Vivienne warned him. An arrow bounced off her greatsword, and another one stuck in the armour at her hip – without drawing blood, thank Althyk. The close-quarters knights around them, the swordsmen and lancers, were giving way. “If you can hold this lot, I’ll get them!”
“No… No more,” Rielle said softly, then shouted louder, at their attackers. “Enough!”
“Forward!” cried the countess. “Bring me her head! The Fury wills it!”
Imagining that gentle head parted from that small body drove Vivienne past her limits, and she charged into the back line of knights, bowling them over, unleashing Abyssal Drain upon them with a roar. Several of them stumbled and fell just from her impact; she hadn’t even slashed them yet. But now they were cutting at her, dropping their bows and grasping at swords and daggers, trying to carve through the steel and leather that shielded her body… and somewhat succeeding. But that meant they weren’t attacking Rielle.
“Have you no mercy, Mother!?”
The countess bared her teeth. “I told you never to call me that! You were given a chance! You could’ve stayed in your cell! Monster! Abomination! Death will be a mercy!”
“How dare you!” Vivienne screamed, hacking her way through, heedless of the pain stinging through her wounds. No style, no guile – only darkness. To keep that wan, sad child caged away from the light forever…
Was the countess desperate from running out of knights, or just from insanity? “Kill them! Kill them all! All of you, attack!”
Sidurgu surged forward, leaving a pile of bodies behind him, bleeding as much as Vivienne. “You… will not… harm her!” Before the last two knights could decide to flee, he had struck down one. Vivienne got the other.
How did the countess still think she could win this? “O Halone, see us to victory! Grant me the strength to strike down this foul creature!” She began to back away from the Dark Knights, so she wasn’t completely stupid, but that turned into a circling flight – she was trying to get around them to Rielle! And still she prayed as she panted, as she ran. “Pray forgive me my sins… for lying down with Your enemies… Help me… to cleanse my soul of this taint… Render unto it Your judgement! Unmake this monstrosity!”
Vivienne hit her with the flat of her blade, and the countess went stumbling to her knees in the snow, barely keeping hold of her staff. Sidurgu had gone the other way, to stand between Ystride and Rielle, and growled in triumph, flicking some of the blood from his blade.
Even now, the countess did not seem afraid. Perhaps because they hadn’t hurt her yet. “Damn you! Get… get out of my way!”
Vivienne wanted to hurt her. If not to make her cry as she’d made Rielle cry, directly and indirectly so many times, then to make her scream in penance for her crimes of cruelty. But in front of her daughter whom she was fighting for… Vivienne wasn’t that much a monster. And besides, someone else needed this more than she did.
Sidurgu looked at Vivienne. Vivienne gestured him forward. All yours. And he walked slowly, purposefully towards Countess Ystride with implacably hard eyes, to loom over her where she knelt. Frightening at the best of times, with his bleak colouration and large black horns and forbidding aura, terrifying now covered in blood and with his armour rent and torn.
She dropped her staff into the snow. “Why!? Why!? Why do you care so much what happens to it!?”
“…You’re not the first person to ask me that,” Sidurgu said, and there might have been a touch of dark humour in his words. “Once, you might have understood…” He raised his sword high, then slashed it down – within an ilm of Ystride’s aristocratic nose. “For everything you are – that you have done – you are still her mother.” He pulled back his sword. “Go. We shall not meet again.”
She turned her head and gave him a sly look. “…Oh, but we will. We will, knight! I promise you that!” She was smiling, happily, gleefully. “I will follow you to the ends of the world, if I must. So long as she… so long as it lives, I must! Don’t you see, you fool!? The Fury wills it! The Fury wills it!”
Rielle took a deep breath and walked forward, to Sidurgu’s side, still safely behind the wall of his sword. “Rielle?” he asked.
“How great your love for Her,” Rielle said softly, bitterly. “Far greater than any you ever bore me.” Her emotions were controlled, but many as they passed over her face – pain, anger, sorrow. “For a long time, I prayed for forgiveness. I prayed you would take me in your arms and hold me as you did before…” She looked up at Sidurgu. “But I know that shall never come to pass. …I will pray for you, Mother, that you might find peace in Her halls.”
A daughter’s love, that she would forgive in the same heartbeat that she consigned to death. Vivienne would have stolen Tam’s line to Zephirin – May your goddess greet you with scorn – but Rielle was not one for pithy one-liners. How strong this child was, to grasp her own fate, to choose a life of freedom… with such grace… even at such a terrible cost.
“O Halone,” recited Rielle, as Sidurgu raised his sword once more, this time with deadly intent, “receive of us this woman, Your humble servant. Raise her up to Your bosom and grant her glory everlasting…” Her eyes were fixed upon her mother.
And her mother returned her gaze, and for an instant…
Rielle did not flinch. She simply bowed her head and shut her eyes – a headless corpse was painful enough to look at when it was not of someone familiar. There was a long silence on the bloodstained field. Not even the wind whispered across the rocks.
“…So what now?” Sidurgu was the first to break the silence, and slung his sword onto his back, still dripping with blood.
“We go back to Ishgard,” Rielle said simply. “Together.”
“…As you wish,” Sidurgu said.
They all began to walk back to the city, leaving the bodies to lie under the blinding pale sun.
“You know the Fury didn’t will anything like that,” Vivienne said to Rielle over a beer in the corner of the Forgotten Knight. “Whether she was truly deluded or knowingly making things up for her own benefit, what she said isn’t true.”
“I know,” Rielle said steadily.
“Just making sure.”
“If the Fury did will it, I’d fight Her Herself,” Sidurgu said, and drank his own beer. “You know, it all seems so simple in retrospect. The moment I stopped trying to find the answer, there it was. All that anger, all that rage… born of a fervent desire to protect that which we hold most dear.”
“I’m still surprised it’s taken you this long to figure out,” Vivienne said.
“Shut up,” Sidurgu told her, closing his eyes like he was going to ignore her. She grinned.
“…So you are still committed to your path, then,” Rielle said to him. She hadn’t drunk much of her small-beer. But she didn’t seem unhappy. More… at ease.
“…And you, if you will have me,” he said to her quietly.
Rielle fixed him with a firm look. “You’ll need to talk to me more. And listen, too…”
“Aye, especially that,” Vivienne said.
“I can’t stand the silence, you know,” Rielle said… and smiled at him. It was a pretty smile. “There’s no shame in sharing the weight, Sid. We can bear it together – for ourselves, and for others.”
Sidurgu pulled away, folding his arms, closing off… with a flush on his pale grey cheeks. “Right, then.”
Vivienne snorted, which set Rielle to laugh… and Sidurgu relaxed for maybe the first time she’d ever seen him. And just maybe, he cracked a smile of his own.
Of course the next thing to happen was the wedding between Kekeniro and Lilidi. “I’m absolutely not postponing this for one single day,” Lilidi had said before she left them in Ishgard to return to Ul’dah and prepare for the assigned date. “Everything I’ve witnessed at your side tells me we need to seize what happiness we can today in case sorrow comes tomorrow. So you had all better come and celebrate with us!”
Their first destination was Hyrstmill, to pick up the rest of Kekeniro’s family and escort them to Ul’dah. His mother, father, sister, and brother had all never left home before. His mother, in particular, was exceptionally anxious about travelling, so much so that Kekeniro saw the others wondering how her son had ever gone wandering – or if maybe he’d gone wandering to get away from his mother?
Neither, though it was true that he didn’t come home often so he didn’t have to hear her criticisms… She also didn’t think that being a Summoner was a viable way to fight monsters, though she was terrified of his egis, and usually told him to stop being a burden to the ‘real’ fighters like lancers and archers. But though she complained and worried about bandits, and monsters, and foreign cultures, and the big city, and the summer heat and sun that would surely all slay them in Thanalan, they made it to Ul’dah without incident. As he knew they would. They were a heavily-armed bunch, even if Summoner hadn’t been a real kind of warrior. Which it was.
It was a strange meeting of worlds, when they had all arrived at Lilidi’s Ul’dahn manor – Kekeniro’s rural, Black Shroud-dwelling family, the adventurous Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and Lilidi’s grandfather, friends, and household, most of whom were, if not aristocratic themselves, used to dealing with aristocrats. He himself had only met most of them a couple times, except for her Hyuran servants/guards Kane and Cent, and her shy Miqo’te friend F’lorrhaine. He’d been a little worried that his family wouldn’t get along with them, but fortunately, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn had something for everyone, and soon everyone was getting along in conversation with someone. It was still physically uncomfortable for him, being all dressed up in formal-wear, but at least it wasn’t hot inside these thick stone walls.
Then the doors to the drawing room opened, and everyone turned, and his jaw dropped. What a sight to see the most beautiful woman in the world all dressed up in her own formal-wear! But she had her sword at her side, because that was a part of her like nothing else in her life. He scarcely noticed that her grandfather was escorting her as was tradition in Ul’dah.
“Breathe, dear,” she whispered to him as she reached him by the writing desk their vows were laid out on.
“Easier said than done,” he whispered back, and she laughed, and he veritably saw sparkles in the aether around her.
The ceremony was brief, as Lilidi had intended and as Kekeniro appreciated, but it was magical all the same. The exchange of rings, exchange of vows, exchange of toasts, it all went by in a blink, because all he was aware of was Lilidi – her graceful hands, her dark green hair, the dazzle of her eyes, as she went through the motions beside him.
At the end of it, he was… married. To the woman of his dreams, who’d saved his life, who supported him in everything, who knew his worth and asked for his help when she needed it, and such a fact was completely mind-blowing. He’d known this was happening for moons and yet it was unbelievable now that it had happened. He kissed her, as tradition suggested the ceremony conclude, and hardly heard their friends and family applauding them over the heartbeat in his ears.
He was still gobsmacked over dinner, stunned over dessert, and when a letter of congratulations arrived from the Sultana to them ‘upon the occasion of the wedding of two noble, kind acquaintance’, his poor brain just gave up and he sat in a complacent, happy puddle on the sofa, just holding Lilidi’s hand and letting everything happen around him. She was all poise, of course, if a little embarrassed by all the attention herself, but at least she could accept congratulations with something more than “gosh, thanks!”
When everyone had been packed off to the rooms they were spending the night in, and he and Lilidi were alone in her bedroom, he really didn’t know what to say. He just sat and stared as she took off her make-up, her earrings.
She glanced at him. “Coeurl got your tongue… husband?”
“Gosh,” he said for the millionth time. He wasn’t sure why he’d starting saying it this evening but suddenly it seemed like he couldn’t stop. “That… sounds weird. But not as weird as fiancé. So it’s better. Also, you’re not a coeurl. Wife.”
She giggled. “Oh dear, you’re right. I feel so old when you call me that.”
He giggled back. “C’mon, I’m twenty-five, you’re twenty-four. We’re not old, we’re just not… like… teenagers or anything.”
“This is going to take some getting used to,” she said, picking up her hairbrush. “But in a good way.”
“Can I help with that?” he asked, and she passed him the hairbrush. Her hair was silky smooth already, but this was her routine – to brush her hair, then put it into a cloth wrap, to protect it while she slept, and then brush it again when she woke, even when she was camping or hunting. He loved to help when he could, to get a chance to touch those soft strands and let them run through his fingers. “You’re so beautiful.”
She blushed. “No one says that as earnestly as you do. Thank you.” She gave him a cheeky look. “You’re pretty good-looking yourself.”
He blushed twice as hard. “Oh, uh, well… thanks.” He never really thought about it, except when she complimented him.
“Oh, stop hiding,” she said, making him put the brush down and taking his hands. “Let me get lost in those gorgeous grey eyes.”
Well, he was perfectly fine with that, he could get lost in sapphire blue…
The Warriors of Light regrouped a few days later at the Quicksand. Kekeniro was still technically on honeymoon, and he and Lilidi would in fact be going off to her grandfather’s country estate in another day or two, but Chuchupa had demanded a meet-up first, to spend time together now that – for the first time in moons – they had some time to not worry about anything.
Achiyo could not completely forget her worry. Nidhogg had returned. Estinien was in dire peril, if he was still alive. Several Scions were still missing in action. And the Garleans had been very, very bold during their recent journey to Azys Lla. But it was very nice to take this time, just the eight of them, and gather at a table and speak of their hopes and goals.
“Ahhhh, it’s been f’rever since we just sat and drank!” Chuchupa said with a contented sigh after a long pull at her ale. “I missed this.”
“Same,” R’nyath said.
“You really didn’t spend any time in any tavern since we came to Ishgard?” Vivienne said to him with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, sure, with Gridanian friends and so on – but with this group? You know the answer to that as well as I do.”
“Oh, how was your date?” Kekeniro asked.
“It was… good,” R’nyath said. “She had a good time, and I had a good time. Got a kiss on the cheek – how’s married life?”
Kekeniro accepted the counter with a grin and a little blush. “It’s lovely. Ummm… well…”
“You two are the very cutest couple,” Rinala said, with a curl of her tail and a gentle smile. “You love each other so much. I’m so happy for you!”
“That may be, but I don’t care what ye’ve been up to,” Chuchupa said. “I’m happy for ye, but I can’t stand sap, and ye’re one o’ the sappiest fellows I know.”
“Then I’ll just leave at that,” Kekeniro said with great contentment.
“Oh, does that mean we’re not talking about Achiyo and Aymeric?” R’nyath said.
Achiyo put down her glass a bit harder than necessary. “We are not, because that is not a… a real thing. Don’t be ridiculous.” When it had just been a rumour, it had been bearable. But now it seemed no matter what she said, her friends would not believe her. It didn’t help, of course, that her heart inclined towards him, that she greatly respected him and liked him, but that was all there was going to be!
“It wouldn’t be fair, anyway,” Vivienne said. “Not until we find Thancred so that you terrible people can make fun of Rinala, too.”
Rinala blushed violently. “Well, we saved Y’shtola, so we can save the others, too! I believe you all now. They’re alive, and we’re going to get them back.”
“We will do our best,” Aentfryn assured her, and she smiled hopefully at him. “Though I hope Y’shtola’s sight is the worst of the long-term effects…”
“Oh, yeah…” she said, looking down again. “It doesn’t seem to bother her, but Thancred and Minfilia aren’t as strong in magic as she is.”
“You just want to see Thancred pop out of the Lifestream with no clothes on,” Vivienne said ruthlessly, and Rinala squeaked and hid her face.
“Who wouldn’t,” R’nyath said.
Achiyo could do very well without that, personally. “What are the rest of you, besides Kekeniro, planning to do for the immediate future?”
“Practice,” Rinala said immediately, recovering from her embarrassment. “I’m going to visit my parents and practice all my skills until you need me to come back.”
The rest looked at each other. “Dunno,” Chuchupa said. “Get in a fight?”
“I would have thought we have been fighting plenty,” Achiyo said to her.
“I’m insatiable,” Chuchupa said with an evil grin. “And prone to boredom. Ye’re all welcome to join me.”
“Rowena had a proposal for me last we were in Idyllshire,” Vivienne said. “It may involve fighting, Chuchupa.”
“My Gridanian buddies haven’t finished our quest,” R’nyath said. “It’s taking us pretty far afield.”
“And you, Achiyo?” Kekeniro asked.
“I have not decided yet, either,” she said. She was considering not remaining in Ishgard; at least, not until Aymeric had had a chance to explain to the nobles why the Warriors of Light had slain the archbishop. “It has been a while since I visited the sea. I thought I might walk Limsa Lominsa and see who might need my aid.”
“I would accompany you, if it would not be unwelcome,” Aentfryn said.
She smiled and nodded. “We do not often get the chance to work together, you and I. I would be happy to have your company.”
There was a thoughtful pause.
“You know,” Tam said, contemplating the lamp above their table, the first he’d spoken all evening, “I still haven’t killed anyone. I said I was going to and then I didn’t.”
“I saw you doing your level best, does that count?” R’nyath asked.
“No,” Tam said. “But… I’m glad.”
“So am I,” Achiyo said. “Both for your sake, and… I did not like the idea of cutting down an old man, even one so cruel as he. I wonder what will happen…” Their earlier teasing was mildly irritating. Now she felt she could not speak of anything remotely related to Ishgard without their interpreting it as having an interest in Aymeric. Ridiculous.
Tam was silent, offering no insights beyond another sip of whisky.
“Well,” Chuchupa said. “We’re all still alive an’ kickin’, and we’re eventually gonna see to it that overgrown lizard don’t bother anyone ever again, right?” She raised her glass. “Here’s to fightin’ more impossible battles!”
“And getting our friends back!” Rinala said, raising her own glass with hope in her eyes.
“And staying alive,” Aentfryn said dryly. Eos seemed to giggle.
“And saving the world!” R’nyath said. “Or at least Ishgard!”
They all touched glasses together, toasting the future.