So pretty much nothing happens this chapter except class quests! Figured that since I was always planning to add the DRK quests, I may as well add some of the others, as many as work with the characters, and then I figured I’d put them here before the momentum builds to the point where I can’t pause to throw in this sort of thing. Also can I say that the PLD quests are so bizarre that the NPCs are questioning it??? What is this paladin dominance thing??? I dislike. Achiyo doesn’t have anything to do with the Sultansworn anyway, so I wasn’t planning to include those particular quests in the first place. But I love Constaint so he’ll show up somewhere else eventually. My favourite class quests are DRK, BRD, and WHM, though I also like a bunch of the others as well, just not as much.
Again R’nyath references a song from the choral side of my career, Soldier Won’t You Marry Me by Paul Halley.
Vivienne’s quest was heavily influenced by the Japanese dialogue as translated by Haillenarte on tumblr – doesn’t it make so much more sense? I think the localization team were kind of trying to set up the next level 50 quest (the first of the 50-60 quests) with the whole “Temple Knights asking after you” thing, but… no. Get that irrelevant nonsense out of here. Give me sad yandere Fray. (still not entirely happy with it, may edit over the next couple days, but I also want to move on.)
I made some small edits to Chapter 7, as I never liked Chuchupa’s hinted backstory and I wanted to add more for Vivienne now that I know her better.
I promise we’ll go on a road trip next chapter!
Non-story news: I finally bought a doll to be Achiyo to the doll I bought to be Aymeric. (Aymeric is played by the BTS j-hope Barbie, and Achiyo is played by Basketball Stacie – I intend to rehair/repaint them a little like some of the YouTube channels out there, except I’m going to use mini paints instead of pencils because miniature painting is what I know.)
Also I’m impressed I managed to write this while work was in high gear; I’ve been so busy omg.
Chapter 22: Guide Us to Victory
Chapter 23: Loneliness
Achiyo met with the other Scions in her room, save for Tam, who was missing again. “So to summarize: Raubahn is alive, the Sultana is alive, and the smallfolk do not know that we were accused of anything.”
“All they know is we disappeared for a moon for no apparent reason,” Vivienne said.
She nodded to her. “Yes. Except for those among us who did not care for caution. Like you.”
“I was careful!” R’nyath protested.
“Well, now you don’t have to be,” Vivienne said. “The Crystal Braves are cowards without their leadership, anyway.”
“I am going to stay in Ishgard,” Achiyo said. “More attacks are coming, Artoirel said, and I would aid those who have been so generous to us without condition. Their kindness appears even more gracious now that we know we did not have to flee so precipitously. But should your paths take you back out again, I will not worry for you.”
“Gosh, Princess, why were ye worrying in the first place?” Chuchupa said. “I might take a quick trip back to the Wench to catch up on news but I’ll be back quick as ye like, there’s an aetheryte.”
“I shall stay with you, Achiyo,” Alphinaud said. “I believe we will learn more of the Ascians here.”
“And I’m staying too,” Tataru said. “They love me at the Forgotten Knight!”
“I’m heading out,” Kekeniro said. “I’ll be back to help! But there are people I really need to see.”
“Want to go together?” R’nyath said. “I’ve got postponed business with the Gods’ Quiver, I can go with you as far as Gridania.”
“I’d be glad of it,” Kekeniro said. “Hyrstmill’s my first stop, but don’t let me keep you.”
Rinala cleared her throat in a tiny way. “Um… can I come too? The Seedseers want to talk to me…”
“Of course!” R’nyath said, taking her hand and squeezing it in both of his. “You’ll be most welcome to make a party of it.”
Achiyo saw Aentfryn and Vivienne look at each other, but whatever agreement they came to, they did not see fit to share with the others.
“Then everyone has a plan,” Alphinaud said. “We shall send word if we hear anything important ere you return.”
Vivienne looked over the dusky sea as the sun set behind her, stretching out her shadow far across the waves from the clifftop. Fray stood behind her. “Good battle, hm?” she asked.
“They don’t appreciate it. They never do…”
“They don’t matter. You know that.” She turned to him. “I did as you suggested. No style, no guile, only chaos. I let the darkness guide me beyond my limits. It felt good.”
“Heh… heh…” He seemed out of breath. “You did well… Now finish it… Finish what we started… All that remains is to hearken to the voice – to grasp its words and discover your true calling…”
She stretched out her hand to him and closed her eyes. All she perceived was darkness; no light shone upon her closed lids, as if the sun had suddenly gone out. The roaring sound she had sensed the other times was much less now, and the voice clearer than ever, though she could still not tell if it were male or female.
A chorus of voices cries out for a hero, and she comes. She smiles. She nods. And she remains silent… But she too has a voice… I will be heard…
Vivienne Urselmert. You stand at the edge of the precipice, but do not fear the fall. Cast yourself into the abyss, and you shall soar above, free at last. There are other lands than these, Vivienne – lands where we are not known. Ask, and we shall quit this place forever.
Only when you have renounced everything are you free to do anything. When we meet again, you will give us your answer…
She opened her eyes. Fray was gone.
R’nyath tilted his chair back in the Stone and Steel tavern and tilted his mug back to empty into his throat, then set it down with a flourish and a gargled arpeggio. He and his friends had come to try to find an ancient song of power, and R’nyath had advised against intruding on Tataru’s turf over in the Forgotten Knight. He was in a particularly good mood since his mother had told him R’inwa was well – not that she’d seen him, but he’d sent her a letter that he was out with some adventuring friends that R’nyath could only take to be Hoary and Coultenet – and maybe F’lhaminn? So they’d gotten away safely.
Beside him, his old buddy Guydelot smirked and played a contrasting arpeggio on his harp. R’nyath swallowed his ale and trilled a cadence, pulling his guitar back to a ready position just in time to accompany himself.
Guydelot laughed. “Which one do you want to do next?”
“D’you think they’d like Soldier, Soldier, Won’t You Marry Me?” R’nyath asked, waving over another round of drinks. The barmaid gave him a brilliant smile and went to fetch them. “It’s Ishgardian, after all.”
“If they’re not mortally offended by a pair of Gridanians singing a Lominsan bastardization of it, let’s go for it.” This was an old game for both of them.
“This is a waste of time,” Sanson ground out between his teeth, sitting across the table from them with hunched shoulders and impatient mien. “We’ll find naught about the Ballad of Oblivion in a tavern. You both fritter our time away trying to catch the eye of women instead of putting in any work towards our true objective.”
“Excuse me, I swing both ways,” R’nyath told him cheerfully, with a curl of his tail and a wink at the barmaid returning with their drinks. “Thanks kindly, m’lovely lady.” She giggled, the tips of her pointed ears turning red. At least she liked their singing.
“As do I,” Guydelot said. “What about you, Sanson the Straight-Laced?”
Sanson flushed crimson. “That’s quite irrelevant. I’m not going to wait for you. I shall find more clues myself.” He got up and stomped out, ignoring the new drink R’nyath had gotten for him. Well… more for him!
R’nyath and Guydelot looked at each other. “Pity, I’m starting to like him,” R’nyath said. He hadn’t known Sanson previously, but the Wood Wailer was really enthusiastic about music even though he didn’t play anything at all. “I’ll sing the girl, you sing the soldier. What key are you starting in again?”
Kekeniro was cautious as he ventured down the ramp to Nophica’s Wells, trying not to look too suspicious as he kept an eye out for Brass Blades and Crystal Braves. Just because that Monetarist woman, Dewlala or whoever – he’d already forgotten her name – had said the Scions’ involvement, or framing, in the Sultana’s attempted assassination had been hushed up didn’t mean that their enemies weren’t still out to get them. It just meant he didn’t have to remain in Ishgard all the time.
He’d already been to see his family in Hyrstmill, and gotten thoroughly scolded by his mother and very nearly grounded if she’d still had any authority over him. At least his brother and sister were happy to see him. And Y’mhitra, too, was pleased to see her research partner in one piece, though she asked for word of Y’shtola and he’d had to say she was probably gone…
But now he was daring even to Thanalan, to see the love of his life. He’d called her on linkpearl once he’d gotten in range, and she’d been strangely short with him then, but she’d agreed to meet him here, where the Crystal Braves had no reason to be.
“Kekeniro Lylyniro!” came a furious cry, and suddenly his vision was filled with flashing blue eyes and tossing green hair. She was before him in all her angry glory, just barely refraining from either tackling him to the ground or punching him, probably repeatedly.
“Lilidi,” he gasped. “Gods, I’m…” He had missed her, of course, though before he had often gone for weeks or even months without seeing her, but after the way he’d had to leave this particular time, he hadn’t even realized how terribly he missed her until he saw her again. He sniffled and threw himself into her arms. “I’m glad to see you.”
“You better be,” she grumbled, patting him on the back soothingly. “You know I don’t mind you going off on your adventures, but I like to know about it. You didn’t even send a letter.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I wrote one, but I was worried it might tip off the Crystal Braves.”
“Never mind that,” she said, pushing him to stand at arm’s length with a determined look. “You are going to tell me everything now.”
“Uh… okay. I can do that.”
So they walked by the stream, and he told her everything, even things he maybe oughtn’t to tell anyone, but he trusted Lilidi; she knew better than him how to keep secrets.
“So I came straight to see you as soon as we understood it was safe,” he said.
Lilidi was still frowning. “You’re a Warrior of Light, whatever that means, and if nothing else, you’re an exceptional Arcanist – you’re an exceptional Summoner, and I know they’re rare to begin with. You should be more than a match for anyone.”
“I’m not a match for you,” he said, smiling.
“All right, but anyone else.”
“Well… I guess I could blow away a decent-sized squad with my skills. I still wouldn’t want to go alone, though.”
“Well, you’re not going alone, anymore,” she said. “I’m going with you from now on.”
“Wha- but-”
“What’s the matter? Your team takes good care of you, but I still worry!”
He stopped talking to really make himself think about it. Lilidi was brave and bold and an incredible swordmaster, despite being an Ul’dahn noblewoman. They’d been on adventures together before. It was how they’d fallen in love. He actually really wanted her to come with the Scions with their adventures; he knew she would enjoy it. He only had a few concerns. “I would love to have you along with us, I really would. You know I would. I admire you as much as I love you.”
“I’m hearing a ‘but’ coming,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “The ‘would’ gives it away.”
Even though he felt skewered, he challenged her stare. “First of all, what happens with your uncle and your estate?”
“That’s a reasonable point,” Lilidi said. “Luckily for you, I’ve been maneuvering to make him vulnerable. I’m almost in a position where I can just take him out and be done with it. It would go easier with your help, of course, but if not, I’ve got two new allies, a Midlander and a Highlander. The Highlander wants to help me fight, with his stupid big axe, and the Midlander will smooth-talk everyone through the aftermath.”
“Okay. I can help with that. I might even be able to call in some of my Scion friends if you really want to crush him.” Her uncle was the cruel and greedy sort, unremarkable among Ul’dahn Lalafells. How Lilidi could be even remotely related to him, he’d never guess.
“Now you’re talking,” Lilidi said with a bright grin. “Next?”
“Next, if we encounter a primal, you can’t fight it.”
She grimaced, but nodded. “Right. That’s why you’re a Warrior of Light. The Echo.”
“Yeah. It’s the one thing I can do to protect you.”
“Well, it’s good you have all those tallfolk with the Echo around to protect you,” Lilidi said. “It’s not that I don’t think you couldn’t handle it on your own, but… you’re so fragile!”
He chuckled self-consciously. “It’s true. I’ll never forget how we met. Taken out by bandits in Eastern Thanalan… So embarrassing.”
“That wouldn’t happen now,” Lilidi told him, and kissed him on the cheek. “I just worry. And it’s not fair. So I’m coming. In fact, I’m doing more than that.”
Before he could process what she was doing and saying, she got down on one knee in front of him, by the stream. “Kekeniro Lylyniro, marry me.”
He gaped, reeling back in surprise. “M-m-m-me?”
“Do you see anybody else around here?” she retorted. “We’ve been dating long enough. I know you, and what a good person you are, and I love you. I don’t see a need to wait any longer to tell you I want to make our relationship permanent. Do you?”
He started to cry. “By the Twelve, yes. Yes I will.” This was so sudden! And yet, like she said, they’d been dating two years already. He reached out to pull her up to standing, and then hugged her tightly, crying like a baby, he was so happy.
She might have been crying a little bit too, but it was hard to tell, even when he kissed her. “Gods, I’m so happy. Thank you so much.”
“Thank you,” she said, a little shakily. “That was scarier than I thought it was going to be.”
“I bet it was! I don’t know when I would have worked up the nerve to ask you.”
She gave him a pert smile. “Then it’s a very good thing I did it. Fiancé.”
“Oh, that sounds weird. Fiancée.”
Lilidi shuddered. “You’re right. Let’s never use those words again. At least not to each other.”
He laughed out loud, and held her hand to keep walking. “Do you have a plan for when we’ll be married?”
“Quietly, at home, and as soon as we’re both free of distractions for a long enough period of time.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure my parents will be brave enough to come all this way from the Black Shroud. It will take me some time to persuade them, even if nothing world-shaking happens for a couple moons.”
“Which seems unlikely with your life recently,” Lilidi teased him. “Ever since you joined the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, you’ve been caught up in so many crazy things!”
“I know, it’s amazing.” He smiled blissfully, thinking of Bahamut and that time he got to use Teraflare. “Anyway, your uncle should probably be a priority. He’s not invited.”
She nodded. “He thinks he’s ready for me. He’s got another think coming. He’s not ready for my allies and my fiancé. Ha!” It didn’t sound so weird when she said it like that. “Anyway, he’s an immediate concern, but I’ll arrange for the wedding to be in two moons – mid-summer, before the harvest. I know you don’t know what the Scions will be tangled with, but do you have any plans for before then?”
“I actually have a research project with Y’mhitra, if you’d like to come along for that? We’ve decided it’s high time I try to summon Ramuh-egi.”
Lilidi laughed. “What will that look like, a little thunder-sparking beard-cloud?”
Kekeniro laughed again too. “We will have to see! I really don’t know. I don’t think anyone else has summoned such an egi, since the god himself is so reclusive- But your uncle first. What’s your plan? What are his defenses? How much time do we have?”
Tam leaned on his white lance and regarded the field strewn with dragon bodies. What a waste it was. He hadn’t had any particular friendship with the dragons in the mountainlands east of the forests he roamed, but they’d been people, and the longer he stayed and fought winged lizards in Coerthas, the more bothered he became by it.
Someone was approaching him, a vaguely familiar dragoon. She pulled her helmet off, revealing flowing blonde hair and solemn eyes. “Greetings, Ser Tam. Thank you for coming to our aid. We would not have asked such a thing from one who has not pledged allegiance to Ishgard, yet you came anyway. Our comrades may go to their rest in peace with their deaths thus avenged.”
“Glad to be of service,” Tam drawled. “Alberic’s helped me out a bit, figured I owed him.”
The dragoon smiled briefly. “’Tis an honour to see you again. Though it appears I am not remembered…?”
“Your face I remember, your name I do not, for you never gave it,” Tam said.
“Ah, the fault is then mine,” she said, colouring in embarrassment. “Permit me to introduce myself anew. I am Heustienne of the Order of the Knights Dragoon. Both when we first met, and now, I could not help but notice that your fighting style is very distinct.”
“Of course,” Tam said. It was impossible for it not to be, if he was in an entirely different world. Of course, if this were all a construct of his dying imagination, it was pretty impressive that everyone else fought differently than him, and consistently with each other. Such an observation might lean towards Eorzea being real – at least as he was currently perceiving it.
Heustienne was staring at him with hungry eyes. “Such insights you must possess… If I may speak frankly, I wish to train under you. Will you accept me as your pupil?”
“No,” Tam said.
She looked startled. “But…”
“No,” Tam said, a little less bluntly. “I’ve nothing against you, young one, but I pick who I mentor. In all my long, long, long years, I can count the number of people I’ve… ‘trained’ on both hands. Speaking generously.” Did Achiyo really count? She never asked for it, not even tacitly like Alphinaud did. “Moreover, me knowing moves unknown to you does not make me your ideal teacher. Anyone not of Ishgard could teach you something new.”
Heustienne looked a little crushed. “But… You’re one of the Warriors of Light! You are the most skilled lancer in all Eorzea!”
Tam snorted. “My skills have long ceased to be from instruction and technique, and are entirely from experience – experience I can’t share with you, nor can you acquire without having my specific past. Skill doesn’t make a good teacher… and one can be a good teacher without being the best. If you want instruction, that’s your lesson.”
“Can I not make a case for myself?” she begged. “A fearsome dragon has been terrorizing Coerthas of late. Graoully is its name-”
“Right stupid name,” Tam muttered.
“-and I have been charged with leading a mission to slay it. Though I am second-in-command in the Order, I am not confident of my chances against the creature. Such is its ferocity and cunning. I must needs grow stronger.”
“You’re nearly as good as Estinien and he has that bloody eyeball to help him, what more do you want?” Tam asked.
“Ser Estinien might well have difficulty with this beast himself!” she cried. “Please. I must learn from you.”
“I said no,” Tam said. “It’s not going to work. You’re far too serious and dramatic. You would not enjoy it, nor would you learn what you want to learn. If you want, I might consider going with you when you go to confront this dragon, if that would give you the confidence to do what you already know how to do. But full-time mentoring? No. Not from me.”
“I… I see,” she said, bowing her head. “Forgive me…”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Tam said in exasperation. “Not from me to you, nor from you to me. If you truly want my advice, it would be – leave Ishgard. Leave Coerthas. Wander the world. The whole world. See, explore, experience, survive.” Hear, feel think? “But you don’t have time for that, do you? So bring some allies when you go fight that dragon.”
“Thank you,” she said, lifting her head, upset, but proudly determined not to show it. “Then I will send word to you when I go.”
Hei Princes, seems Rhikis pissed at me for runnin of withowt givn her notis, gotta run sum mishins for her with me Maelstrom skwad to keep her of me ars. Goin to fite kobolds, see yu in a cupl sennites. Hope thers no big fites in Ishgard withowt me but yull be fine if ther ar.
Achiyo read the note, addressed haphazardly as it was to Acheeyo Kensakee, Fortaw Manner, Ishgerd, and blessed the moogle who had managed to deliver it. And made a resolution to teach Chuchupa to spell her name correctly in Eorzean letters.
Then she had to prepare for the religious gathering the Fortemps sons had invited Alphinaud, Tataru, and her to participate in, seeing as it was their holy day and there were no crises immediately brewing… They called it Mass, and she was already intimidated by what Emmanellain had described to her. Something about… “Halonic aerobics” and “smells and bells”, words that left her with more questions than she’d had before.
Even Alphinaud did not know much more than she. “Halonic Orthodoxy is not evangelical, so only citizens of the nation are normally invited to their services. I confess to being quite curious.”
The Fortemps family and their entourage formed a protective ring about her and Tataru as they set out to walk to the Vault, with Count Edmont in the lead with his cane, and his three sons – for Haurchefant was in town – on either side of her. She herself, with her new dark coat of furs and a maiden’s cap, would not draw undue attention by her appearance, and no one bothered them on their way. Perhaps she was being unduly nervous; she had been getting harassed a lot less in recent days, and hardly at all in the Pillars, whence she had restricted her movements of late. Alphinaud, of course, already blended in perfectly, and Tataru did not seem to mind the attention. But Achiyo was grateful for the courtesy they offered her.
Inside the great golden cavern of the vault, with its enormous windows and vast rows of pews, she noticed everyone seemed to have their own spot. The Fortemps group clustered front and right, Haillenarte, front and left, and Dzemael and Durendaire behind – a little like where their manors were situated in the pillars. In the middle, besides a great number of other nobles, was a large contingent of Temple Knights, in armour, and she caught a glimpse of Aymeric and Lucia.
But for once, she was interested in more than Ser Aymeric, and indulged in staring all about her. She had never been in such a large hall in all her life, and wondered yet again how the Ishgardians did it – how they transformed heavy stone into forests of arches so light and delicate it felt like the ceiling was flying, and so full of windows it felt like there was no back wall at all. Count Edmont and Artoirel kept their gazes piously forward, but Emmanellain and Haurchefant gleefully pointed out anything they thought might interest her and the others in low murmurs… and continued to do so after proceedings began, and no one seemed to think it was rude… Though Emmanellain was almost smothering in his attentions and she had to give him an eloquent look to get him to calm down and give her space.
And then the proceedings began, and a huge sound rang out, filling the space with bone-shaking reverberations. She jumped and gasped and found Haurchefant struggling not to laugh as he pointed to what looked like a… a war machine, really, upon the wall behind them above the front entrance. Hundreds and hundreds of pipes, vertical, horizontal, gold, silver, wood, were encased in an ornate cabinet the size of a house, and all these pipes were thundering through the space in majestic processional music. There was a choir, too, and she dimly remembered from the winter’s Starlight Celebration that Ishgard was known for its choirs, but the instrument commanded all her attention. She almost missed seeing the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward processing to the music down the stairs at the back.
She needn’t have worried about understanding it. It was all very strange to her, and yet strangely familiar, for though she had been too young in Hingashi to appreciate it, and it was discouraged by the Empire in Doma, the Far East did not want for elaborate ceremonies of ancient ritual, of music and incense, of prayer and lecture. The Archbishop was like Kaien-ou-sama, and the Heaven’s Ward attended him like the Doman courtiers, serving in their own parts of the rituals.
And though she thought she noticed the attention of the Fortemps men about her wandering a bit, for they were overly familiar with it, she took it all in as well as she could. She and her companions copied when they knelt and when they stood – “Halonic aerobics” indeed – when they sang, she peered at the music in the hymnal she could not read, for she had never learned to read music and certainly not in Eorzean notation, though Alphinaud and Tataru seemed to make it out well enough – she watched them all praying to Halone so fervently, with bent heads and clasped hands. She followed their example and made her own prayers in her heart to the kami who watched over her, to Ryujin-sama, to Suijin-sama, to Omoikane-sama, that she would know what to do in the trials that surely awaited her in her future.
It was perhaps two bells later that the rituals concluded, with more resounding music from the pipe instrument, and they went back into the cold clear air outside. Aymeric and the Temple Knights left before she could speak with him, but that was was fine. She would have felt awkward speaking with him in this context, dressed as she was. These clothes did not suit her, though she was grateful for the disguise they provided. She’d barely felt comfortable in them at the party she’d been to a few nights ago. Like she was playing at being an Ishgardian. She admired them, but she was not one of them.
He’d laughed softly at something she’d said, at that party, and that memory still warmed her heart.
Alphinaud stretched when he was safely outside. “Most enlightening!” But he said to Achiyo in a lower voice: “But I don’t think I see the need to attend another one. One was tedious enough.”
“I don’t know,” Achiyo said. “It is not my religion, and I do not think I shall ever come to venerate Halone alone above all other kami, yet I… I feel like I understood.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that!” Haurchefant cried. “I was a little afraid you should be bored to tears. The good old Archbishop’s homilies do tend to drag after the first half-bell. Eurgh.”
“But you liked the pipe organ, eh?” Emmanellain said. “We should introduce you to the organist! A lovely lass, very cold and shy, though…”
“Only to you, Emmanellain,” Artoirel said flatly, and Haurchefant laughed.
“I would love to meet her!” Tataru said. “I do have a bit of interest in music, myself. How much did that instrument cost to manufacture, do you suppose?”
“We can’t get one for the Rising Stones,” Alphinaud said, mock-chiding.
“Of course not! Something that big would have to belong to all of Revenant’s Toll,” Tataru responded in kind.
Achiyo turned to Count Edmont. “You have my thanks for inviting us. It was a great honour, and a fascinating experience.”
“You are most welcome, Lady Achiyo. You are most welcome to join us whenever you wish. And if you have no further interest, it was delightful for you all to join us today.”
She smiled at him. Somehow Count Edmont’s sincerity made the most formal of pronouncements to be as warm and welcoming as family. It was enticing her to stay here, in this forbidding, hostile land, even should the Scions continue on in days to come.
It had been more than a sennight and Rinala was deep in a beautiful forest north of Western Coerthas, standing with her eyes closed, seeking not to ignore the gorgeous lavender and amber trees but rather to detect any hint of unnaturally-twisted aether. She might normally have been nervous about closing her eyes in such a dangerous place, with the gigantic bears and the fierce wild chocobos, but Eschiva stood near, her lance at the ready, keeping a sharp eye out.
She opened her eyes. “I can feel it from the north-west. Isn’t that dragon territory?”
“Let’s go as far as we can, and if we have to turn back, we shall,” Eschiva said. “What’s the matter?”
“Just… thinking.” How much did she want to tell Eschiva, whom she’d known for such a short time? “About that woman, and…” She stopped.
Eschiva gave her a concerned look. “You don’t have to tell me, but you should talk to your friends. I know you’re grieving-” Rinala had mentioned it when she met her, and it was hard not to notice, really “-but don’t keep it all bottled up, you know? Ugh, what were the Seedseers thinking, sending you out to do this when you have your own things to worry about?”
“They didn’t have a choice…”
“They absolutely had a choice. So selfish.”
She thought about it as they walked. She probably should have taken this time to go home and see her parents. The Seedseers needed her help, though – there weren’t any other White Mages able to leave the forest, and she’d put off their summons for a while already, until Achiyo had said it was safe.
The truth was, she hadn’t felt capable of even going home. Her parents would have been able to support her grief better than the Scions and Haurchefant’s family, but she couldn’t even muster the energy to Return to Horizon and take the ferry home. She’d only done what was strictly necessary to not actively die this last little while.
She ought to visit them soon. They must be worried so much about her. She’d never been out of touch with them for this long.
And maybe she could, now. She was starting to recover some life in her. “It’s a long story, and I didn’t want to talk about it before, but maybe I can, now…”
Eschiva stopped walking suddenly. “Hey. You want to stop for lunch? If you want to talk, I’m willing to listen. I won’t spread it around, either.”
Rinala glanced at her and felt her ears prick up, just a little. “…Lunch sounds good.”
Maybe she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about the attempted assassination, and the accusations, and it was very difficult still to talk about all the Scions staying behind to sacrifice themselves for the Warriors of Light… all her friends, so dear to her, Yda and Y’shtola and Minfilia and Papalymo and yes, especially Thancred… Thancred whom she hadn’t been able to keep her promise to, to take care of Minfilia… She loved them, and the tears wouldn’t stop as she spoke of them, though she doggedly worked away on her bread and butter between sobs.
She managed to tell Eschiva everything, and Eschiva listened sympathetically. “And that woman… she seems to be all alone. She seems… sad, and angry. She’s definitely doing something with the taint, and it’s wrong, but what if she’s doing it for people she loves? And then I remember that I didn’t lose everyone I cared about. It hurts so much, and my heart is still breaking, but there are still people who care about me – though I wish I weren’t such a burden to them.”
“I think I can definitively say you’re not a burden,” Eschiva said. “You’re going through so much, and you’re still fighting with such strength to save people. You’re really strong, Rinala, and I know your friends would tell you likewise. I know you miss them all, but it’s going to be okay.”
Rinala nodded. “I… I believe you. I think I can start moving forward again. Knowing that Raubahn and Sultana Nanamo are all right is a big relief. Especially… seeing her die in front of me like that… and then not being able to help her…” She sniffled at the terrifying memory. “But she’s okay! I think. I want to see her before I’m completely relieved. But at least I’ve seen Raubahn. And the others… they all went down fighting. I’m going to follow their example, and I… I think I can. So… I’m going to be okay.”
“Yes, exactly,” Eschiva said. “You’re doing fine. You’re out here, helping people, even when the Seedseers won’t do it, even though you’re hurting. That makes you good in my book.”
Her words were blunt and awkward, but she really meant them. Rinala nodded. She was going to help as many people as she could. Just as the surviving Scions were doing, she would do her best. She would do what Thancred would do, and keep trying, no matter what. He’d said he was proud of her, and she would keep being someone he could be proud of, even if he was gone. For love of him, she would do that.
“If I never see snow again, it’ll be too soon,” Fray had muttered, near collapse, the last time she’d seen him, and Vivienne had to agree. And yet. And yet. Some of the knights of Whitebrim had caught sight of her when she was going to meet him again outside of Ishgard, and begged her to help them with some giants. Beseeched her, imploringly, earnestly, and nearly on bended knee… come to think of it, she should have gotten them to bend their knees… but she’d gone along with them, summoning her magitech walker to aid her on her way.
It could have been her imagination, but she thought she’d heard a frustrated hiss as she agreed…
Fighting creatures larger than she was was always satisfying. To abandon the finesse she needed for smaller opponents and simply tear through hostile flesh and bone, to indulge in her perpetual fury without care for those following her, it was a heady thrill. She was quite spattered in giant blood by the time the giants fled, and as she turned, she stopped, shocked.
The Durendaire knights were applauding her and saluting her. Some of them were staggering, some of them were sitting and being treated by their chirurgeon, but all of their eyes were on her with admiration. She still wasn’t used to this. Especially not after fighting like a demon possessed right in front of them.
“By the Fury, you really did it!” cried the captain. “And you made it look so easy!”
She shrugged. “Giant sword helps.”
“It was an honour to fight with you, madam. You really are everything the bards say.”
“The bard wouldn’t happen to be R’nyath, would it?” She’d scald the tail off him if it were…
The captain chuckled. “No, no, many sing of the fierce dark beauty, the untouchable one whose mighty greatsword defends the helpless. I myself have been following your deeds ever since you were of the party that slew Shiva. Your martial prowess is widely known, of course, but what I found truly inspirational was your compassion for the common man. How you would risk your life without thought for fame or fortune, how the lowest among us could find a friend in you…”
Vivienne made a face inside her helmet. “What a… creative interpretation. I do what I must and no more.” Really, who was making up such bullshite about her? She would have to look into it.
And yet this sort of warmth… she didn’t need it, but even if it was mistaken, it was… nice, that these random people admired her. “Well, we really appreciate it, madam. These giants will bother travelers no more.”
He was interrupted by a distant shout. “Sir! Sir! It’s an emergency!”
“What is it? What’s happened?” demanded the knight captain.
“At Whitebrim Front, sir – we’re under attack!” the messenger gasped, dashing up to them and sliding in the snow to a stop. “A man clad in black armour suddenly tore through our sentries-”
Vivienne’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of black armour?”
“Could he be a heretic?!” exclaimed the captain.
“I don’t know, sir! Heavy armour, surely, it completely covered him from head to toe. He didn’t seem like the usual sort of heretic. I don’t even know what it is that he wants from us! But I… I heard that he was murmuring Mistress Urselmert’s name…”
“Godsdammit!” Vivienne burst out. She’d had her suspicions as to Fray’s intentions for a while, but this was too godsdammed far, even if she was late to meet with him. Before the knights could say anything or do anything – this wasn’t their business anyway – she was running, slinging her heavy sword on her back, heedless of the blood that dripped from it still.
She swung herself lightly into the driver’s seat of her magitech walker and pushed the engine into high gear. There was the castle of Whitebrim, not too far away – and the sentries were not at their posts, the sounds of battle echoing through the empty gate. She cursed again, calling the wrath of several gods down upon that mad idiot Hyur.
Her walker pounded into the courtyard, and Vivienne sprang forwards from the seat to land lightly on the pavement, glowering at the dark figure who stood there, surrounded by bleeding and moaning knights. She drew her sword. “Fray!” She didn’t even know what questions to ask; ‘what in the seven hells’ seemed too mild. She had known he was impatient and violent… but what purpose did this serve? Had he finally snapped from being-
Fray turned away from his carnage, his pale eyes near-glowing in the darkness of his helm. They bored into her with unchecked intensity, and for a moment, only a moment, she hesitated. She still didn’t know who he was, even after all the bonding he’d dragged them both into. “’Fray’?” He snorted. “Say my name. Say it. My real name. Our real name! The fear and hatred that you keep locked in the darkness of your heart, all the negative thoughts you deny… I am you. I am your shadow.”
“My shadow has quite the personality,” Vivienne said sarcastically, edging closer.
The figure snorted, pointing accusingly at her. “Come now, you knew Fray was dead from the beginning, but you didn’t care! When you first touched that soul crystal, the darkness nurtured by the real Fray was invoked… and his desire to live reflexively stole some of your aether. He took not only your aether, but the darkness that lived in your heart… So I came to inhabit his body. And after all that time you spent pushing me away, I finally got to meet you…”
“So you’re a spirit,” she said grimly. Those eyes were unsettling in their intensity… and their desperate hunger. “You’re both him and me, the bastard child of our aether and our fury.”
“Yes. But I’m running on borrowed time. Soon, the aether that Fray stole from you will be spent. And once that happens, I will no longer be able to move this body… I will disappear once more into the darkness of your heart… Before that happens… I wanted you to understand how I felt. I wanted you to choose me over everyone else. But everyone… everyone keeps getting in my way!” He gestured to the wounded knights, who flinched – to the world at large – then glared at her once more. “Open your eyes. Look. Do you see now? Do you see?”
Fray – or ‘Fray’ – whatever he was – swayed, then collapsed… and an aetherial figure materialized where he had been standing. Tall, slender, clad in black armour, skin dark as shadow, long hair as black as night, green eyes filled with a terrible mad light that bored into Vivienne where she stood tense – a copy of her stood there, perfect in every detail. And how could it not be? It was her own inner darkness, whom she’d lived with for over twenty years. Dark aether swirled about the figure, flickering, ominous and powerful.
Her shadow put on her helmet and drew a sword, identical to her own. “With what little I have left, I will convey to everyone my pain… Even you… even the world that created me… This is what you want too, isn’t it?” Even her voice was identical, her own voice wracked with rage and pain, though there was an echo behind it, a dim resonance of Fray’s voice.
“You… reckless bastard,” Vivienne said, raising her own sword again to a ready stance.
Her shadow smiled cruelly. “What will you do, Vivienne? Will you save the world by killing me? Or will you save the world by killing you?”
Whatever her feelings towards anyone or anything else, right now her fury was about to boil over. And she could let it. If there was anyone she could fight without holding back, it was herself, wasn’t it? “Ha!” She sprang forwards, and the greatswords rang together like bells, echoing around the courtyard.
Her double met her stroke for stroke, equally skilled, equally strong. “You wound me each and every time you give yourself to someone else… I wanted you to give yourself to me… My pain, my suffering, my loneliness… Do you understand it now, Vivienne?”
Vivienne snarled. “You have no need to ask. You know as well as I do that whatever you feel is mine! My pain! My suffering! My loneliness!” She felt ugly, revealing such private thoughts in public, but she wasn’t going to defeat this spectre with strength alone.
“You don’t even know yourself! You have no idea!” Her shadow launched herself again at her, greatsword cleaving the air where she’d stood a moment before.
A vaguely familiar voice came to her ears. “Pull yourself together, Lady Urselmert! You have my blade! I will not suffer the champion of this outpost to fight alone!”
Her shadow hesitated, sparing Drillemont a wary glance. “Champion…? You think us your champion?” Her shoulders shook. “It’s people like you… It’s your fault… It’s your fault that she can’t even accept herself!”
The shadow struck out at Drillemont, who was unprepared for the ferocity of her attack and the sheer weight of her sword – and then Vivienne was there, parrying with her own unwieldy beam of aether-infused steel, a roar in her mouth and rage in her eyes. Drillemont stumbled away, regrouping as he reassessed the situation.
Her shadow was like a wild animal, and Vivienne drew back before that uncontrolled fury, before the giant windmill sweeps of that greatsword. “Do you feel it, Vivienne? The pain, the hatred, the sadness you’ve suppressed… The screams that never reached you… Every single part of me… I’ll make you feel it all! Until I’ve drawn my last!”
She did feel it, through their bond, the aether that they shared, more than she’d ever imagined. This was… hers? It could not be. Hers and Fray’s together… more than any one person could ever bear. And yet if even half of this was her own… How did she yet live? Her shadow was right. She had thought she had embraced darkness…
Flashes of her own memory came to her – darkness and fire – the still bodies of her parents – her baby brother’s weight ripped from her twelve-year-old arms – her hands closing about a longsword as tall as she was – the screaming, hers and theirs – the blood that covered her from head to foot afterwards. She had taken her grief and rage and hate and forged from it armour against the world and weapons against its hurts, she had let it sink into her soul, she had never run from it… but nor had she confronted it. She had always buried the specifics, lest it overwhelm her. But that had only put it off and let it grow, let it fester until Fray had given it a mind of its own…
While she was distracted, her double swung past her guard and cracked her over the head. Vivienne staggered back, reaching up to feel the dent in her helm, then wrenching it off as being unfit to protect her further. And though her vision was slightly blurred, she was alive; it had done its job.
“Well what are you expecting me to do about it?” she cried. “Bare my soul to everyone I met? Fall down and weep like a child!? I’ve not been a child for a long time!” She bared her teeth, though she felt her body growing weary under the weight of these emotions, her knees beginning to quiver with strain. She could fight for hours if it weren’t for the damn emotional entanglement…! She lashed out defiantly and caught her shadow also in the helmet, sending her stumbling back, buying herself some space.
Her shadow swayed, reaching up to throw her own helm to the ground, where it vanished, aetherial construct as it was. Now they were identical again, and she lifted her sword to a high guard, though her arms protested; she couldn’t risk another blow to the head. Her double mimicked her, and as they circled each other again, she wondered if the Whitebrim knights had lost track of who was who yet. There they stood, snarling at each other from a few fulms away, and yet she knew her own glare was beginning to crack.
“Lady Urselmert!” cried a knight on the outskirts of the courtyard suddenly, his hands cupped to his mouth. “Fight the madman! You can win!”
“We’re here for you, Lady Urselmert!” called a chirurgeon. “Please, don’t lose!”
“Y-You have my blade, if you’ve need of it!” called a third knight, one of those she’d been fighting giants with. “I wish only to repay you for the kindness you’ve shown us!”
“Shut up, you!” growled her shadow. “You can’t really kill me. You may as well lay your blade at your own neck. But where would that leave us?”
“The same goes for you, doesn’t it?” she demanded. “You need me. And I need you. I want you strong within me, though you cannot control me. You give me reason to fight. You give me the strength to fight. Without you I would be nothing. You mad dramatic bitch.”
Her shadow snarled and lunged forward; Vivienne parried and followed with a strike to her side. Her shadow reeled, holding her side, gasping for air, leaning on her sword.
“Why?” she asked. “You gave me a voice, and now you take it away… Is this not terribly ironic…? That strength of yours… it makes you a hero… but it gives you so much pain. And one day… it might even claim your life…”
“That is my choice,” she said sternly. “I tell others I fight for myself, but that is not true. You have shown me that. I tell them I fight for my brother, and for my people, but even that isn’t true, is it?” She fell silent. None of them understood. Not even Alain, for he had been too young to remember more than a vague fear. And none of them knew her now. No one knew her, not her brother, not her people, not Aentfryn. Gods. Her heart twisted within her and for a moment she felt again Fray’s yearning.
“Say it,” her shadow gasped. “Say it! Why do you fight!?”
“I fight so no one will suffer our fate ever again!” Vivienne swung, one last desperate sweep upwards.
Her shadow fell to one knee on the cobblestones, clutching her bleeding chest, panting harshly. “Yes… was that not the cause of the Dark Knight? To protect the weak… You will surely… grow even stronger than this… But with that strength comes suffering. And when you suffer… so too do I. I wanted to make you understand that, for your own sake… but this is enough…”
She slipped and fell prone, but Vivienne knelt beside her. The shadow reached up towards her face. “Vivienne…? I am… the part of you that could not be a hero. But I wonder… if I could be one with you once more…”
“I will carry you, Fray,” she said. “Achiyo and the others… they’re the real heroes. But we will support them as we can.”
Her shadow nodded. “…If this is how it must be, then so be it. Listen to my voice. Listen to our heartbeat. Listen…”
Vivienne took her hand and closed her eyes.
“Thank you,” said her own voice in the darkness. “You who know your pain, who know your sorrow, who know your suffering. Once more, I will return to your heart. And when you fight to protect the world… I will be your tears, and your anger, and your strength… But know that when you tire of this charade, I shall be here… waiting to take the reins… You need only ask…”
She opened her eyes and found Drillemont and all his knights staring at her. Fray’s body lay a short distance away; her double was gone. She straightened with an effort and raised an eyebrow at him. “Well? Going to arrest me for heresy?”
Drillemont took a deep breath. “I can’t pretend to understand what that all was. But you are blameless, and this was clearly a private matter. …A very private matter. No one shall speak a word of this to anyone; I command it.” Every knight around him nodded. Some of them were gazing at her with faces that suggested hero-worship again and it made her uncomfortable. Again. After a display like that, that they would still look up to her…
“You were amazing, Lady Vivienne, and thank you for protecting us!” gushed one of the healers. “My lips are sealed!”
“Praise Halone that you’re all right,” said one of the knights. “Ah… your… er… friend…”
“He will be interred with full rites,” Drillemont said. “What was his name?”
“Fray,” Vivienne said softly. “Fray Myste.”
Her heart was warm for the first time in years.