This chapter is obviously named for an OST track; one of my favourite tracks (a shame it’s only used for this one trial!) and one I absolutely needed for writing inspiration. Other OST used in this chapter would be Battle Theme 1.x, which is Chuchupa’s theme!
Only two more chapters left in ARR!
Chapter 16: The Tightening Noose
Chapter 17: Faith in Her Fury
As promised, Aymeric rode in haste to Camp Dragonhead with Estinien to meet with Haurchefant and the Warriors of Light. Lucia was already with them. Iceheart had shattered Ishgard’s outermost defensive wards, the Temple Knights had had terrible losses in the northwest, and he knew Commander Leveilleur was going to try and be clever rather than helpful. But his beautiful city was more direly threatened than any other time in their nation’s history, and he needed reinforcements. Any reinforcements. If but a single Warrior of Light were to come to their aid, well, it would be a start. But somehow he did not think they would turn a cold shoulder to his impassioned plea. And not simply because it was impassioned.
And he did not deny he dearly wanted to see them again. They were so different from any Ishgardian, high or low-born, all of them. It was true, what was said of the freedom of adventurers – you could sense it in their bearing, in their manner, whether they were a bellicose pirate or a reserved young damsel. But he would not allow himself to be enthralled by Achiyo Kensaki today, or any other intriguing foreigners. He couldn’t spare the attention, even would Lucia not disapprove most strongly.
He’d asked Estinien to accompany him, as the captain of the Dragoon corps, and Estinien had answered his invitation with enough alacrity that he knew he did not simply consider it his duty but was interested in them as well.
They were waiting for him in the Intercessory as last time, all eight and Commander Leveilleur, and he bowed politely to them all before assuming the seat Haurchefant directed him to. Estinien eschewed his chair, preferring to lean nonchalantly against the wall behind Aymeric. Master Tam had shown little surprise at seeing the dragoon, nodding at him in greeting; Estinien returned the nod briefly, scanning the others.
First, abbreviated greetings. “I thank you for coming with such haste… and apologize for my absence. Suffice it to say, Lady Iceheart and her heretics have much to answer for…”
Leveilleur nodded. “Yes… we are but recently returned from the Gates of Judgement ourselves. Given the circumstances, we quite understand if you would prefer to postpone our appointed audience.”
He wasn’t getting out of this that easily. “On the contrary, Master Alphinaud – I think it more important than ever that this meeting take place. Rest assured, I shall return to my post on Ishgard’s walls the moment our business is concluded.” But he was forgetting something. “Before we move on to the subject of reinforcements, however, I would introduce you to a close friend and stalwart ally. May I present to you Ishgard’s Azure Dragoon, Estinien.” He gestured to Estinien, who nodded, brief again.
“An impressive title…” Leveilleur said, “though I confess, I know precious little of the order of dragoons.”
Aymeric smiled. “They are formidable warriors all. Yet even among such masters of the lance, Estinien is without equal. He, out of all the warriors of Ishgard, was chosen to wield the power of dragons, and may thus contend with any Dravanian.”
Estinien gave him a flat look, embarrassed, he thought. “…You flatter me overmuch, Lord Commander. If ever I was without equal, I am no longer – as my fellow Azure Dragoon here will attest. Be at ease, Tam – I did not come to challenge you this day.”
“Of course not,” Master Tam drawled.
“Which is a shame,” Haurchefant said to himself. Aymeric glanced at him, wondering if he could… but this was not the time to discuss that.
“…Well, now that we have all been introduced, let us proceed to the matter at hand. I would share with you what we have learned of Iceheart’s design, as confessed by the heretics taken captive after the assault on the gates…”
Commander Leveilleur’s callous, self-interested front crumbled like a mudbrick wall struck by a Bertha cannon in the face of Aymeric’s grim picture of Ishgardian destruction and Garlean occupation. How nice, to occasionally see flickers of humanity from the youthful tactician.
Which was an unkind thought, but… if anyone had spent too much time imagining the fate of Ishgard should her defenses fall, it was Aymeric. The wholesale slaughter that would occur, the blood, the bodies… he himself would surely not live to see it, as he would sell his life dearly before any dragon touched a civilian, but even thinking of it made him shudder. The tall spires alight with dragonfire, and proud halls collapsing right and left. The cold, deserted ruins in the years and decades to come after, littered with bones, the land a desolate waste more barren than Western Coerthas now spoke to. He missed the green and smiling land of before the Calamity… but any Coerthas was better than none, as far as he was concerned.
It was a picture he’d had to practice, laying it before stiff-necked nobility and even the Archbishop, weathering their doubts and jibes about the capability of the Temple Knights and the back-handed comments about the capability of their commander. He would endure any scorn, any hurt of body and soul, as long as Ishgard survived. They had not fought with proud defiance for a thousand years to be slain now, and to die now rather than be assisted by adventurers was… he did not understand it.
If only they did not have to fight at all! If only there could be an end to this war, that the killing and the dying could stop on both sides, and he himself could go and… learn to fish, become an architect, or something, anything that wasn’t related to death. Halone strike him down for being a hopelessly idealistic romantic… because that was not who he needed to be right now. Not who his nation needed him to be.
If it had not been Leveilleur trying to be clever, he might have had overwhelming Scion support immediately, judging from the reactions of the Warriors of Light. To be sure, Master Tam was coolly imperturbable, but the others had all been fairly sympathetic from the moment the interview began. And after his predictions of the future, Miss Rinala looked stricken, Mistress Chuchupa looked ready to fight that moment, Masters R’nyath and Kekeniro looked anxious, and even Master Aentfryn and Lady Vivienne looked more grim than usual. And Lady Achiyo… he dared not stare, but he caught anger and horror in her eyes.
Leveilleur had been shaken, and not just from imagining Garleans on his border; Aymeric still believed there was a compassionate heart in the boy, in spite of his trying to hide it under a hardened veneer that he clearly thought was more mature. It was without further struggle that he obtained everything he asked for – the aid of the Scions, petitions to the Grand Companies of Eorzea, the personal involvement of all the Warriors of Light, and Leveilleur pretending that he’d meant to help them without fuss the entire time.
Leveilleur then left to return to the Rising Stones to speak with the Scions’ Antecedent on the matter, but though all else were standing and ready to follow, Aymeric had one more… not quite a request. “To a lighter matter, then, briefly,” he said. There was no point in beating around the bush while they had no time. “Knowing that you and Estinien have already met, Master Tam, I had an elective desire. Might you favour us with a duel?” Haurchefant turned to stare eagerly, his eyes sparkling.
Estinien gave Aymeric a slight glare through his helm. “I thought Chuchupa was the one you wanted me to duel. Tam and I… we have already settled who is the stronger.” And not in his favour, it seemed. That Warrior of Light must be incredible to best Estinien.
“Ye volunteered me for a duel? How sweet o’ ye, Lord Commander,” Chuchupa teased with a grin. Aymeric blinked. Many women had flirted with him, but never a Lalafell, and never so joking.
“I’m not so sure about that,” Tam said lazily to Estinien. “Last time we fought, you were just a bit high-strung and I had to defeat you. This time, you’ll be more relaxed, I’ll be less heroic, and… who knows?” High-strung? More than usual? Aymeric wondered if he wanted to know what Estinien had been up to… this time.
Aymeric gave Estinien a pointed look in return. This wasn’t ultimately for himself, or for Estinien.
After a long pause, Estinien sighed. “Very well. I won’t deny I’ve yearned to test mine own true strength against you since that day. I’ll meet you outside the western wall presently.” He left into the sunlight outside. It had been cloudy when they all arrived; perhaps it was auspicious for them all.
“I myself cannot stay,” Aymeric began.
“Do stay,” Haurchefant interrupted him, springing up. “At least see them begin, for a minute.”
Aymeric hesitated. He truly did wish to see Tam in action… But Ishgard… her defenses… he could not spare a moment…
Haurchefant turned to Tam. “Is there anything I can provide you with? Anything to prepare?”
“A stiff drink?” Tam asked with a grin, and Haurchefant moved straitway to the cabinet at the back of the room.
“Ye’re going to fight the purple tuco-tuco drunk?” Chuchupa cackled. “That sounds like a terrible plan. I’m in.”
“My tolerance is higher than that, young pirate,” Tam said, accepting a shot of brandy from Haurchefant and downing it easily. “You can have a turn after me.” He grabbed his lance and strode out in search of Estinien.
Aymeric decided to stay, at least for five minutes. Halone forgive him his weakness… He was going to have to work hard once he returned to the Congregation. He noticed that Vivienne and Aentfryn, too, hesitated, and ultimately also stayed. Dragoons were not to be missed, it seemed. Even accustomed to them as he was, these were no ordinary dragoons.
The others assembled themselves on the western wall, anticipation ringing in the crisp air. Off-duty soldiers drifted over to join them. Tam and Estinien had not waited for their audience but were already circling, lunging, leaping, a thrilling battle already swirling between them. Tam fought very differently from the Ishgardian style, Aymeric noted. Every movement was precise and calculated, fluid and graceful as a coeurl, but there was a strangeness, a wildness to it that made him unpredictable. But then, even Estinien, trained since childhood, fought half on instinct himself, as fierce and tenacious as the dragons he fought.
Lucia was watching coolly, evaluating. He knew she was keen to see just how these famed warriors had driven the Garlean Empire from Eorzea. Haurchefant, on the other hand, stared eagerly at Tam, glowing with excitement, eyes shining and lips smiling. “Marvelous, magnificent, perfect… splendid!”
“Happy belated Starlight Celebration, my friend,” Aymeric murmured, and Haurchefant laughed.
And then Tam jumped back, holding up a hand for a pause. “It’s a little warm out today, no?” He shucked off his long purple coat and a long-sleeved midnight-blue tunic, leaving only a short-sleeved black under-tunic. He rolled his shoulders, chestnut hair tossing about his stern face, and charged back on the attack. Aymeric caught sight out of the corner of his eye of the other Warriors of Light looking at each other in confusion. Apparently this was not normal for their companion? Lady Achiyo appeared faintly amused. Aymeric could not read Estinien’s reaction under his uniform helmet, but he suspected his friend might have raised an eyebrow as high as it would go. But the two lancers set about their duel with as much enthusiasm as they had previously, so clearly neither was overly bothered by it.
Haurchefant, however, was completely overcome, raising his hands to his head and running them over his hair in complete distraction, blushing fiercely. “Fury take me, for I am slain… Those rippling muscles… that sparkling sheen of sweat!” he murmured breathlessly. “Have you ever seen a more splendid adventurer?” At this point, Aymeric was quite sure that Haurchefant didn’t even care about the outcome of the duel.
“You’re well done,” Aymeric told him. “I’ve never seen a thirstier chocobo.” Seeing his friend this happy was worth staying for.
“He’s like a maiden at the theatre,” Lucia said drolly. “I think he’s about to swoon away completely.”
Haurchefant laughed good-naturedly at the teasing. “How cruel you both are…! But I deserve it entirely, I admit. And yet… I feel no shame. Or at least… not much.”
“I didn’t catch all o’ that, but I can’t say I see what ye see,” Chuchupa said. “The bulging muscles are good, I’ll admit, but ye know he’s a pain in the arse too.”
“Tam’s not that much of a pain,” Rinala said. “He’s very kind when he wants to be.”
“Aye, when his head’s on straight. Else he’s as hard to talk to as ye are when yer lad’s in the same room…”
“Chuchupa!” Rinala cried indignantly. “I’m not that bad!”
“Are ye sure?” The pink-haired woman grinned impishly as the Miqo’te pouted and flicked her tail.
Lady Achiyo simply smiled tolerantly. How patient she was with her companions, Aymeric thought.
“Ah… ’tis no matter,” Haurchefant said, affecting nonchalance. “I’m simply pleased to see Tam’s skill first-hand yet again, against an opponent truly worthy of him.”
“Mmhmm,” Chuchupa said sarcastically.
But an outcome there must be, and for now it was close. Aymeric could barely keep track of the lightning-swift thrusts, the magically high leaps, and the nimble grace of both warriors. They were well warmed up by now, their breath blowing clouds in the cold, and he could hear their grunts of exertion as they stabbed and parried.
And suddenly, it was over. Tam had done something and Estinien’s Gae Bolg had been flipped from his grasp, and though Estinien leapt away instantly, his lance was now too far away to be of any use to him. In a true battle, he would have fought tooth and nail to survive and win, but now he simply watched silently as Tam picked up the lance and walked foward to hand it back to him. Rinala cast a Medica on both of them, though it didn’t truly look like either needed it.
“That was fun,” Tam said. “And even closer than before, I think.”
Estinien nodded gravely. “It seems I am not as far behind as I had thought.”
“Well, having fought you twice now, I am certain that your reputation as the best in Ishgard is well earned. If you reach my age, you’ll be truly unstoppable.” Aymeric wondered why Rinala hid her face at that. Surely the man wasn’t over fifty. Estinien might be more reckless than Aymeric liked, but with his skill, that was no reason to believe he wouldn’t live to fifty. Tam turned his attention to them, grabbing his coat and tunic and rolling his shoulders. “Haurchefant! Did you enjoy the show? ‘Twas as marvelous to watch as it was to engage in, wasn’t it?”
“You’re marvelous,” Haurchefant blurted out, and immediately turned as crimson as the unicorn on his shield, panic crossing his face. But he did not flee, knightly above all else. “F-forgive me, it was a truly glorious spectacle. Thank you for indulging us all.”
“You’re most welcome,” Tam rumbled back, grinning.
“Is it your turn, then?” Estinien turned to Chuchupa. Though he was careful not to show it, Aymeric knew he was wondering how such a tiny person would truly challenge him.
“Take a rest, first,” Chuchupa said, pounding her fists together. “Ye’re not fresh. I’d beat ye easy in this state. Ye free to stick around a while?”
Estinien glanced at Aymeric, who nodded. “I suppose I am.”
“Then we’ll spar in a minute or two, or whenever ye’ve caught yer breath.”
Estinien nodded gravely. “I’ll be ready. You’d better be, too.”
Aentfryn glanced at the sun. “We should follow Alphinaud when you’re done. There is much to be done.”
“All right, all right!” Chuchupa cracked her neck impatiently.
“I myself must go,” Aymeric said regretfully. “Duty never ceases calling… Do let me know the outcome, I’m desperately curious.”
“Thank you for your time!” Haurchefant cried, as effusive in his farewells as he was in his greetings.
Aymeric smiled at his old friend, bowed to the Warriors of Light. “A pleasure as always. Take care.” He mounted his chocobo that the Fortemps knight had brought, and spurred it back to the road to Ishgard.
He felt a pang as Camp Dragonhead receded behind him. How he longed to spend time with them – almost to be an adventurer himself! To be free, as they were… at least free of this hateful war. He’d do anything to end the war, that he might do other things than plan strategy, train the Temple Knights, fight and bleed and lose good men and women, and paperwork. Perhaps he didn’t know what the Warriors of Light did all day; perhaps they did the same as him, only less bound by Ishgardian tradition; perhaps he was overly romanticizing them. They certainly fought like an entire army when they found a battle worth of their conviction, nor did they shy away from the risk of bleeding or dying for their causes. But he felt an almost jealous yearning to throw everything away and join the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.
The Gates of Judgement were already on the horizon. He’d begin by reviewing the latest battle reports, then review his worst-case reinforcement scenario before moving on to a slightly more optimistic one. And a cup of tea, to stimulate his energy.
Estinien spent some time sizing up Chuchupa while he took a minute, which was fine, because Chuchupa wanted a minute to size him up, too. She could tell he was underestimating her by her height and weight. Most Elezen and Roegadyn did, and this man had probably never met a Lalafell before, which made it easier to do. She was almost sorry for him.
He got to his feet, twirled his fancy lance. “All right. I’m ready.”
She grinned. “Great. I’ll try not to bust yer kneecaps, that would be cheatin’.”
“You’re welcome to try,” Estinien said drily. Haurchefant laughed.
And they began. Estinien was fast; she’d seen in his previous duel. And he most certainly had reach on her, and he did that annoying jumping thing where no one could hit him. Maybe kneecaps was fair after all… But she was fast, too, and bold.
He was taken by surprise, placed straightaway on the defensive, blocking her strikes with the haft of his lance. And he’d underestimated how high she could reach, as well, anticipating her low. She chuckled as she punched and kicked; he moved with her like a good dance partner, and she was havin’ a good time. She dodged a stab and swept one of his legs out from under him; his stance was really wide, and he fell on his arse – to be sure, he fell gracefully, like most Elezen. “Taller they are, the harder they fall.”
“I find that goes for ego as well,” Estinien said, backflipping to his feet before she could capitalize on any weaknesses. How’d he do that with all those spikes sticking out everywhere?
“Pride goes afore a fall?” she retorted. He was starting to adjust, making lightning fast jabs with his lance, and she turned them aside and moved under his guard, and he’d hop back, and they’d do it again. While their moves were quick, this was going nowhere fast, and she couldn’t just wear him down. Elezen tended to endure, almost as long as Roegadyn, Lalafells tended to burn fast and hard. But you just needed to know how to tip an Elezen, top-heavy as they were…
But he wasn’t giving her the chance to do that now, and she was beginning to get a little frustrated. He really was good.
She gambled, grabbing his weapon the next time it came at her and pulling, jumping high over it – not dragoon high, but Lalafell legs had a surprising amount of spring in them, other races found – and aiming for his stupid spiky chest. The spear came back up, smacking her in the back and sending her flying. She rolled over the snowy ground and sprang up, trying not to growl. Letting him get to her would only hurt her in the long run.
She didn’t examine why she was so annoyed. Something something arrogant Ishgardian Elezen, something something Tam already won, something something he was way more serious about this than Moenbryda had been. Urgh, and this wasn’t a barfight, she oughtn’t to resort to groin punches.
His lips tightened under his all-obscuring helmet. “Don’t hold back.”
Fine, groin punches were back on the menu! “Ye’ll regret those words, tall boy!” Greased Lightning was on her side, after all!
“Make me,” was all he said, tight-lipped smile growing tighter. Damn, all this trash talk was putting her back in a good mood. She was a meteor flurry of punches and kicks, high, low, inbetween, and he was still on the defensive, moving back, letting her come at him.
Wait… ‘letting’…?
Suddenly, faster than she reacted, the butt of his lance swung round and hammered her square in the gut, knocking her to the ground. And it was only slightly less pointy than the other end. She coughed, wind completely blasted from her body, and his lance tip was pointed at her. “Yield?”
“Godsdammit!” She coughed again. “Aye, I yield.” She crawled painfully to her feet, even as Rinala cast a Medica on both of them. “Godsdammit.”
Estinien tilted his head. “Disappointed? We can go again.”
“Are you all right?” Haurchefant asked solicitiously. “That looked painful…”
She shook her head with a grimace. “I think I need to train some more. Good fight. ‘Scuse me.” She stomped away until she was behind a building and let out a frustrated “Arrrrgh!”
“Are you all right?” Achiyo’s gentle voice fell upon her ears, and Chuchupa huffed a sigh. She didn’t really want to hash things out with the Au Ra right now.
“That was a disgrace,” she said anyway. “I was fooled! I ain’t good enough!”
“I don’t understand,” Achiyo said. “It’s… a sparring match. Not a test of character.”
Chuchupa turned to glare at her. “It ain’t that. Ye’ve seen what we’re up against usually. We can’t ever fail. ‘Tain’t allowed. Hells, ’tweren’t allowed even afore I became a Warrior o’ Light.” Or she’d have been dead. Though… she had to admit rival pirates were not exactly on the level of the Azure Dragoon. She’d coasted too long on her strengths without building up her weaknesses, and maybe it was only luck and the gods’ will that she hadn’t died so far. This was an arrogant, Elezen-shaped wake-up call.
“We’re only mortal, when lives are not at stake,” Achiyo said softly.
Chuchupa straightened her shoulders, though she didn’t put on a pretend smile. That wasn’t her way. “Well, don’t ye pamper me feelin’s like this. I’m bein’ a wailin’ babe o’er nothin’. All I know now is that my old ways ain’t gonna cut it from now on. Don’t worry, I’ll still protect ye, Princess.”
Achiyo hid a smile. “You always have since I arrived a year ago.”
“Has it been a whole year? Gods’ teeth, time does fly. C’mon, I’ll say farewells to that prick like a not-sore loser.” She marched past Achiyo and back to the others.
Estinien was still talking with Tam, ignoring R’nyath’s wide-eyed hovering. Haurchefant waved to her. “Mistress Chuchupa! That was brilliant. You’re a marvel to behold!”
Bah, the boy admired everyone he looked at. She shrugged and pointed at Estinien. “I’m gonna train harder, though. There’ll be a rematch someday, and I intend to put up a stiffer fight than this!”
“I look forward to it,” Estinien said gravely. “As I strive to match Tam’s strength myself.”
“Invite me when it happens!” Haurchefant said. “I must attend to cheer everyone on.”
“Maybe we ought to get you into it yourself,” Tam drawled, and Haurchefant’s cheeks tinted faintly pink.
Estinien cleared his throat. “I must be back to Ishgard to rouse the dragoon corps. Good day to you all. I’m sure I will see you around, Tam.” He bowed as Tam gave him a short wave, and headed in the direction of the stables.
Urgh, how humiliating. She had to pull more of her weight. They wouldn’t just kick her off the crew, not when she had that silly Echo, but she’d show ’em. She’d get to a point where she could win, and if ever she didn’t win and didn’t die, she wouldn’t whine about it like a gigantic greenhorn. They had to be able to rely on her. Princess had enough on her plate without worrying about her ’emotional health’ or whatever she called it. Pirates could get away with temper tantrums. Heroes couldn’t.
Now, what else could she fight that would prepare her for specifically sparring with dragoons?
The mood in the wake of the council meeting had been… Achiyo did not know how to think of it. She was disappointed and angry, and she believed all others present were as well. Alphinaud had shouted at the nations’ leaders and been scolded for his childish behaviour, the nations’ leaders had only committed a token response, and Sultana Nanamo had been listless and inattentive.
While perhaps the Sultana was simply having a bad day and unwilling to burden herself unnecessarily with the negative emotions simmering in the room, Achiyo was angry at the other leaders. To be sure, as they said, she did not know what else they were dealing with. And yet, they offered up non-specific excuses she had heard before and ignored the terrible vision of a dying Ishgard, even the prospect of a Garlean Coerthas. Together with her attitude towards the beast tribes in the wake of Leviathan’s summoning, this newest obstinate nationalist selfishness from Admiral Merlwyb had soured Achiyo’s opinion of her so far that it was all she could do to disguise it and bid her a courteous farewell afterwards. But she had not been surprised… Kan-E-Senna, though, she had been surprised at. With Coerthas on their border and her reputation for compassion, she had expected more of her. Surely their own nations were not under such dire threat as Ishgard! Surely they could spare more just for a few days!
In the end, it was only Raubahn who made an effort to give more, and she was grateful, for she knew of his risks perhaps more than the others’, but it did not inspire anything from Limsa or Gridania. She prayed for him; if things went wrong, besides the problems it would cause for Raubahn that she strongly wished him spared from, Admiral Merlwyb would probably say ‘I told you so’ to Alphinaud and refuse to give even so much next time.
If Eorzea would not save her neighbour from a grim death, then Achiyo would fight all the harder. Aymeric-sama would not want for the aid of the Warriors of Light.
So they stood now, the eight Warriors of Light and a small contingent of other experienced adventurers from Revenant’s Toll, shivering slightly upon the malm-long bridge known as the Steps of Faith between the Gates of Judgement and the city of Ishgard, where a foggy morning had brightened into an incongruously clear, bright, beautiful day. She knew from their recent journey to Thanalan that the desert was in the throes of its all-too-ephemeral spring, with flowering cacti scattering bright pinks and oranges and yellows amid greening trees and grasses, but here the weather was simply… mildly cold. Her fingers and toes and nose and the tip of her tail were chilled but not frozen. And she smelled smoke on the wind, bitter cannon smoke drifting from the Stone Vigil, sweet wood smoke from the braziers to keep the soldiers warm, and distant, oily smoke from dragonfire. They’d Teleported to Camp Dragonhead, so urgent the news of the impending advance had been, and now they must needs wait for the dragons.
Dame Lucia was positioned with them, tall and impassive as always. She would command this penultimate defense. Estinien stood near them, but a little apart, arms folded haughtily. The other adventurers included Odd Sparrow and her healer companion Himalrael, Yllamse Yarlmos and her friend Eir’wo Elakha, Khem Istriam, Linnea Browne, and Tharash Kaern. Khem had been the first to join, saying ‘why not?’ in that cheery way he had. Aymeric-sama was waiting at the gates of the city himself, only taking direct command when all else failed.
All else would not fail.
Many Ishgardian soldiers had looked at Achiyo askance, but none of those who did were stationed on the bridge. Whether due to her growing reputation or to specific orders, Lucia’s men and women all treated her with respect as due an honoured ally, even those whose shields indicated they were of noble birth. It… reassured her. She would have fought for them regardless, but it did make it easier to trust those beside her, easier to concentrate on the battle ahead.
There! Behind the gate, a cry of alarm and the ringing of a bell, the twang of bows and the heavy ‘punt’ sound of a harpoon, but the massive dragon glided on bat-like wings just over it, landing with a thud that shook the bridge. Everyone took a step back, and Odd Sparrow swore quietly at the size – it was nearly the same size as the Gates of Judgement. Beside Achiyo, Lucia’s voice rang out like a stern bell. “We claim victory this day, or Ishgard falls! Accept the Fury into your heart, and defend this bridge with your life’s blood!” The soldiers cheered around her, heartening those among them who were showing fear.
Achiyo glanced to Vivienne, and the two heavy-armoured women ran forwards; Achiyo flung her shield towards the giant’s head, while Vivienne cast a dark spell upon it. It ignored them and took a thundrous step forwards, and another. And suddenly the air about them was ablaze with spells, and Tam and Chuchupa and Estinien were up amongst the dragon’s claws, and Yllamse and Eir’wo with them. The dragon did not falter or even glance at them. But she felt no fear, not yet. It was bigger than the manifestation of Bahamut they had fought, but she doubted much if it had Bahamut’s power.
There was a buzz of smaller wings, and a number of yalm-long dragonets fluttered down from the skies to snap at their faces. “Kill the dragonflies, they’re trying to swarm the healers!” Kekeniro cried, and then jumped and looked awkwardly to Lucia.
“You heard him!” Lucia ordered. Whatever conversation they’d held with their eyes, both seemed satisfied, and Lucia stepped forward again, and Kekeniro stepped back.
“This beast’s hide is pretty thick,” Yllamse said, shaking her hands out. “I feel like punching it isn’t going to work for once, even in the joints.”
“You don’t say?” said Eir’wo, spinning his lance to slam it through a dragonfly, breaking its back. Estinien and Tam were too airborne to comment.
“Yep, ye’re right ’bout that,” Chuchupa called from high up the dragon’s shoulder; she’d switched to her axe after a single blow of her fist. She was now running rampant about the dragon’s back; it ignored her entirely. It was ignoring them all, even Vivienne, though she and Achiyo were attacking its ankles, its narrowed eyes fixed upon the place in the bridge where Achiyo sensed an outpouring of aether – the second ward.
Lucia waved to her knights. “Slings and arrows shall avail us little against this foe. Ready the cannons!” After a few moments, the cannons roared; Achiyo flinched at the sharp, deafening sound added on top of the existing confusion of noise, the screams of dragons and men, the hiss and crash of spells, the ringing of weapons, but the iron balls struck the dragon full-on, spraying black blood over her, doing much more damage than her little sword could. And yet the dragon shrugged them off and continued.
Eir’wo whistled, some signal Achiyo couldn’t interpret, and Yllamse groaned. “Aww? Fine. I’m going to drop back with the other casters!” she cried cheerfully to Tam. “Byeeeee!” And she ran off, pulling a grimoire from her pack and summoning a ruby carbuncle. Khem greeted her warmly as she reached his position. Achiyo blinked. She’d underestimated this woman.
The dragon pressed onwards, more and more dragons coming in to land behind it. Achiyo glanced at Vivienne and split up, as they’d done many times before. There were so many… but Achiyo felt Aentfryn’s shields around her, and Rinala and Himalrael’s healing inside her, and though she was shield-to-snout with three dragons as tall as she was, she wouldn’t back down. She just hoped one of these dragonflies didn’t get tangled in her long hair, blowing in the wind as it was.
The giant dragon reached the ward and reared up, in time for Lucia to shout “Back up, back up, back up! Ware the beast’s fall!” And as it fell, it crashed into the shield, making the stone bridge shiver. The ward flickered as the stones it was built into cracked. Another body blow, and it evaporated, flashing into the distance behind Ishgard. The spellcasters and healers had run in time, through the ward and to safety, but the cannons had been hurled into the abyss below.
Lucia hissed through her teeth. “Blast! They’ve broken through the second layer, but there are yet two more wards behind that! Fight on!” And now she herself ran to join the fray, her sword gleaming in the sunlight as she thrust it into a smaller dragon. “Biasts incoming! Don’t let them rush the cannons!” She looked back for a moment. “Estinien! The dragonkiller!”
Estinien grunted in acknowledgement, and left their side, flipping high and back to one of the towers that rose from the side of the bridge; another impossibly high bound, eschewing the stairs, and he reached the top where a great harpoon was mounted. The knights and casters had retreated to a second and third battery of cannons, and once more those deafening booms rang out, echoing off every surface for malms around – the city, the Vigils, the mountains. Blood was growing slick underfoot.
“Steady now!” Lucia cried to the warriors around her. They wanted to give the dragoon as clear a shot as they could. An oddly quiet ‘punt’ sound, compared to all other sounds about her, and the oversized barbed spear leaped out, grazing the dragon’s head and slamming instead into its shoulder. It roared, turning its head towards Estinien defiant on the tower’s peak. “A hit! The monster felt that one, by the Fury!”
But their triumph was short lived, for the dragon was still moving steadily forward, and the tower was positioned at the third ward. Estinien, with no time to reload, leaped from the tower, missing the dragon’s head – again by a hair’s breadth. Once more, the dragon reared and attacked the enchanted shield, and once more the shield flickered as its foundation physically crumpled. Vivienne, nearer the dragon’s feet than Achiyo, was knocked down and tumbled across the bridge; she used her greatsword to halt her roll and clamber back to her feet, teeth bared in pain and fury.
“Another ward down!” cried Lucia, and though she and her voice were still a pillar of strength among them, her words were growing more desperate, and she kept glancing at the ever-approaching city. “Bleed them! Bleed them for every step! Our defenses grow thin…”
There was a cry from further back, and Achiyo looked to see Linnea stumble away from a charging biast, losing her ice spell; a Temple Knight rushed to defend her and she rallied behind his shield, casting Thunder instead.
“Achiyo!” Tam scolded, drawing the attention of the dragon that had been about to claw her exposed flank. “You’re no good to save anyone if you’re dead.”
“Gomen,” she panted, ducking another attack from a smaller dragon before cleaving its head in two.
“Horde reinforcements have arrived!” Lucia shouted. “Put down those aevis!”
How Lucia was able to direct the flow of battle the way Kekeniro did, while yet being in the thick of the fore, Achiyo didn’t know. Achiyo could rally those behind her if she sensed they needed it, but to see everything happening across the entire field at all times…! The dragons were getting bigger; the more ground they took, the more they’d be able to take. Achiyo was beginning to wish it were a little colder, or at least that it was not sunny – she was hot and sweating in her armour, even her fingers and toes and tail that had been so chilled before the battle.
She turned towards the incoming aevis, shining her Flash spell at them, that they would look at her alone and give their battery of spellcasters and archers time to mow them down. There were so many… their slavering jaws gaped wide to show rows of sharp teeth, and any of them could have bitten her head clean from her body. Her sword danced and flickered among them, stabbing an unwary one through the roof of its mouth as her shield kept another at bay. She was being forced back, step by step… But behind her were four Summoners and a Black Mage, and the magic they poured out upon her attackers wilted them in moments. It was frighteningly impressive.
The main battle was still taking place above her as the giant dragon marched inexorably on. “They mean to overwhelm us… Prepare the snares! Slow their advance!” Lucia shouted to her knights.
Small catapult-ish things had been dragged hurriedly into place, and they were launched now, hurling huge chains across the bridge, over and around the dragon’s neck. It flapped its massive wings as though to take flight and dodge, but it was too late – it was entangled from multiple angles. “Well done!” Lucia called. The barrage of magical energy and dragoon attacks increased.
But the dragon braced its shoulders, streaming black blood onto the bridge, bulling its way forward. It wrenched through the chains with a roar and took another step. And another.
An aevis reared up before Achiyo, and she stabbed at its throat – too slow. Its claws raked down her sword arm, tearing her pauldron from her shoulder and ripping her bicep through her armour. She gasped, dropping her sword and pulling back to hide behind her shield, white-hot debilitating pain lancing through the right side of her body. She felt healing spells course through her in quick succession, staunching the gush of blood, and then Chuchupa was there before her, hacking open the aevis’s belly with her axe even as Achiyo snatched up her sword again. “There ye are, Princess, I got ye.”
“Arigatou,” she said, concentrating too hard to bother which language she spoke, as another aevis crawled over the corpse of the one Chuchupa had just slain, this one breathing fire into her shield.
The dragon was at the last ward. Though it was looking heavily injured, moving slow and painful, it was still going. It would expose Ishgard if it was the last thing it did… Achiyo slashed its ankles again, but though she was strong and her blade was sharp, she still couldn’t cripple it.
It reared up. She had to pull back or risk getting crushed or knocked from the bridge.
As the last shield flickered and flashed into nothingness, Lucia called out to everyone. “The wards are destroyed! Pull back! We make our final stand before the Arc of the Worthy!”
Achiyo heard screeching, and looked to the sky. A cloud of dragons was rising from the northwest, ignoring the Vigils, heading directly for the city. Had they failed? Would Ishgard fall this day?
As Chuchupa had said, they weren’t allowed to fail when lives were at stake. She wasn’t dead yet, despite the mingled bodies of men and women and dragons that littered the Steps of Faith. If they could slay this dragon, they could weather even the rest of this assault, unless Nidhogg himself came to devour them. Glancing at the city, she saw the walls lined with knights, archers, ballistae, cannons – Ishgard may not have been put directly to the test for centuries, but this realm would not die without a desperate fight.
And desperate it was going to be. Still more reinforcing dragons were flying in to the gate assault; if they got too far forwards, they could ruin the last defensive ploy. “More Dravanians have landed! Slay those drakes before they reach the powder kegs!” Lucia commanded, still composed, though as Achiyo caught her eyes, they were burning emeralds in her pale face.
The great dragon stomped forward, seemingly oblivious to the huge pile of barrels filled with gunpowder. Achiyo, occupied with attracting the lesser dragons’ attention, made sure she herself was away from them. She had no wish to be blown to smithereens even in this most desperate moment! And she must needs be more careful; with her right arm exposed, she was more vulnerable whenever she attacked, and the enemy was wasting no time in trying to exploit that.
“Now! Ignite the powder kegs!” Knights scattered as the powder went off with an explosion that rattled the bridge. Achiyo shook her head, deafened temporarily, disoriented. There was only so much resonance her horns could take.
Lucia was cheering as her hearing faded back within her command. “Hah! That inflicted some hurt! Back into the fray!” The dragon was staggering, its chest torn all to pieces. It would not make it to the gates! Even if they suddenly all perished, there were cannons and dragonkillers trained on the great dragon from the higher walls. It could not finish its mission! And yet it crawled on.
And she must needs fight for her life; the lesser dragons were still increasing in number and size. If it had not been for Lucia on her right and the wall on her left, with Vivienne holding the line on Lucia’s other side, she would have been swamped, surrounded, cut down by razor claws.
There came a shout from above. “You’re mine!” Like a thunderbolt, Estinien lanced down from the sky, slamming lance-first into the dragon’s skull. The dragon’s scream dwindled into a sigh, and it sagged to the ground, dead.
There arose a chorus of screeches and roars from the dragons who yet lived, and a beating of wings, and as one the Horde rose into the sky and retreated swiftly, unwilling to face Ishgard’s untouched defenses without their champion. A weary cheer went up from the defenders, a few stragglers were dispatched, and Achiyo let out a long sigh of relief.
They’d returned to the Gates of Judgement, as adventurers were still not permitted within the city itself. Rinala was fussing over Achiyo’s wounds, which were healed already to near-imperceptible scars, when there was a bustle from the bridge, and Aymeric-sama arrived, surrounded by a guard of soldiers to reinforce the depleted garrison there. “Well done,” he said warmly to Lucia, who bowed with a slight smile, and he turned to the Scions. “Commander Leveilleur, Warriors of Light… True to your word, you arrived to aid us in our hour of need. On behalf of the Holy See and the people of Ishgard, I offer you my humble thanks.” He bowed low.
“You are very welcome,” Achiyo said, bowing formally in return, when the others looked to her to answer. Perhaps too formally, but he was saying things that put her in a formal state of mind. “It was our pleasure to assist you.” Her hair was untouched by dragonclaws, this time, but it was dreadfully windblown. Perhaps she should get Rinala to braid it in future as she did her own.
What vanity. The adventurers who had engaged in melee combat were also drenched in blood, and Aymeric’s armour was yet immaculate, yet her first thought was for her hair? Baka. And yet it would not be a bad idea against this sort of foe to keep her hair out of the way…
“I am glad to see you all unharmed,” he said, looking them over, his pale blue eyes lingering on Achiyo’s riven armour. “Your healers must be very skilled.”
“She is,” Aentfryn said, gesturing to Rinala, who blushed deeply and began to stammer an objection.
“She sure is!” R’nyath reinforced the compliment. “But so is Himalrael and Aentfryn, and we need all of them, of course!”
“Speaking of healers; you have already done much for us, but could I ask for your assistance with the wounded?” Lucia asked. “We have many, and only so many chirurgeons.”
“Oh, of course!” Rinala chirped, and hurried off with the knight Lucia indicated, Aentfryn plodding behind; it was the blond knight who had saved Linnea, Syndael, Lucia called him. Himalrael followed, and so did Linnea, to Achiyo’s slight surprise; she didn’t recall that girl being a healer before. The blond Temple Knight smiled at her and began to chat cheerfully with her, putting her at ease. Kekeniro was still talking animatedly with Khem, Tharash, and Yllamse, no doubt discussing unintelligible Summoner things. It was still a surprise to her that Yllamse had the patience to be a Summoner.
Aymeric-sama looked after Rinala with some concern. “I must ask… how many summers does she have? I know of her deeds in defeating the Ultima Weapon and the primals, but she seems quite young to be doing such dangerous work…”
“I believe she will be in her twentieth summer this year,” Achiyo said.
Aymeric-sama’s jaw dropped a little. How strange and intriguing, to see his usual calm ruffled so. He looked younger when he was surprised. It was… sweet. “I-I had no idea. I beg your pardon. And hers, if you choose to tell her of my foolishness.” How young had he thought her!?
“I’m sure she will find it very funny,” Tam assured him.
A moment more, and his face had returned to his usual pleasant, serene expression. His self-control was remarkable. “Well, though I would stay and lavish you with well-deserved praise, I fear I must away to oversee the aftermath of the siege. Not all the dragons are fled, and there are yet wounded to be carried from the field. Pray let us meet anon that I might express my thanks with the proper courtesy.”
“Of course,” Alphinaud said, and most of them bowed to each other, except Vivienne, who bowed to no one, and they set off in different directions.
“Though we will probably not see him for a while,” Tam said. “’The proper courtesy’ means ‘time-consuming and formal’, which means very low-priority right now.”
“That’s not unexpected, nor unwelcome,” Alphinaud said. “We have much to do in Eorzea right now.”
“Will the dragons not attack again?” Vivienne asked, looking to the wide-open skies. The city did seem a lot more vulnerable now, rising alone into the sky in the midst of that sea of cloud of aether.
“I think not,” Alphinaud said, slightly smug. “The Dravanians have very few champions of that size and strength besides Nidhogg himself. I do wonder why he was not in attendance, but… the Ishgardians will be able to hold out against any less than he. We have fulfilled our part.”
They left without fanfare, yet as Achiyo glanced over her shoulder before departing for Daniffen’s Pass, Ishgard yet stood proud and unharmed. She felt great satisfaction that it was so.