In which Tam is a massive ace. (His medallion was last mentioned halfway through Chapter 4 if you care.)
I tried to take a break from fic writing BUT I CAN’T so have another chapter of random bits and pieces
Description of Ishgard should be read with Solid in mind (Ishgard should always be beheld with Solid in mind; still my favourite city theme! MY HEART)
Also, fun fact: since Tharash has quit the video game, Crim/Yllamse talked him into DMing a FFXIV-themed 5.0 DnD game for us based on pre-HW Ishgard (I’m still working through the lore resource lol). Crim is playing another Xaela grump, Yllamse is an astro, and I’m playing my Temple Knight sunshine boi Syndael Argennoux who was mentioned a couple times in this fic.
Chapter 20: Shining Ishgard Among the Clouds
Achiyo had said they would go to Ishgard, and she still wished to. The way they’d been chased through Ul’dah… She feared to return to Eorzea, and Ishgard’s ingrained hostility towards her race seemed far more mild and bearable than Eorzea suspecting her of being a murderer. And, too, there was a nagging feeling of responsibility… Ishgard’s wards had fallen, and they’d already suffered dragon raids as a direct result. If they’d been able to hold the dragon back a little longer…
Another thing needled her. The way the people of Eorzea had turned on them, she had sensed it coming, in a way. The way things seemed to be going too well before… the way the Warriors of Light were begged again and again to surpass their earlier deeds, and lauded to the skies for their successes… She had known, one mistake, no matter how small, and people would die, and they would not be forgiven. If their great heroes failed to save them, the smallfolk would be disappointed, and angry in their disappointment. What angered her was that it wasn’t even a real mistake but a frame.
But now that the initial rush of emotions was over, she needed to take stock of the situation, she needed to plan properly, and she needed to consult with her companions. Many of them would be entirely willing to come, but all of them?
The ten of them met over breakfast in the Intercessory. Achiyo did not eat much, too busy thinking, and stood before five minutes had passed. “I wish to confirm who among us will be going to Ishgard.” She looked around. “I believe Rinala and Tam and I must go, as we are yet the prime suspects in Sultana Nanamo’s murder.” She might have expected Rinala to flinch, but she was motionless, even her ears and tail, staring blankly at her gruel without having touched it. The poor girl probably hadn’t slept, either, which would make this the third day without rest for her. Achiyo had not eaten much yet, but she knew the value of a morning meal and she did not intend to skip the rest, whether or not she felt like it. “Alphinaud as well, I’m sure, as the Crystal Braves no doubt wish him harm. But the rest of you do not necessarily have to follow if you do not wish to. Make no mistake. From what I understand, we will be going to war. Dragons will be attacking Ishgard and we will be obliged to defend it. There is no reason to risk your lives needlessly if you are not being hunted in your own lands.”
“I’m comin’!” Chuchupa said immediately. “I was in the Fragrant Chamber too, they probably think me near as suspicious. Also, what would ye do without me?”
“Thank you, Chuchupa,” Achiyo said, touched.
“Also, the shite we get up to – ye think I’m about to give that up? And furthermore… If I get et by a dragon, ‘twouldn’t be the worst fate a Lalafell suffered. I’d be all right wi’ a death like that.”
R’nyath chuckled. “We get it, you’re going. I’m going too! Dragons don’t scare me, I already died to one once. I’m really curious, forbidden city and all, and all the Ishgardians we’ve met have been very attractive.”
“O’ course that’s why ye’re goin’,” Chuchupa sighed, and R’nyath smiled smugly at her.
Achiyo nodded to them, and moved on. “Tataru?”
“Er… I’d like to go. I’d rather not get split up from you all! And since we don’t know what happened to F’lhaminn and Hoary and Coultenet and R’inwa…”
“You could stay at the Waking Sands,” Tam put in. “Did you not tell me Urianger made it safe?”
Tataru thought about that for a moment. “I could… but I’d really rather stay with you. It’s so exciting, perhaps going to a city no outsider has seen in twenty years!”
“And Urianger is about as interesting as a dustmop, and as useful as one, too,” Vivienne said.
“Vivienne!” Kekeniro scolded. “He’s actually a wonderfully stimulating conversationalist, once you get past the ‘thees’ and ‘thous’. And he’s vastly learned.” Vivienne rolled her eyes as he put up his hand. “But I wish to go as well. I’ve long wished to see the lands of Aldenard’s north and westernmost areas, even what’s left of Sharlayan if fate allows, and this seems like an excellent chance, if we can get past the dragons.” Alphinaud nodded to him.
Those were the ones she had thought would go. “Vivienne? Aentfryn?”
They were both silent for a while. “I’m going,” Aentfryn grunted eventually.
“You will be welcome,” Achiyo said.
Aentfryn shrugged. “I’m not going for you.”
“I see,” Achiyo said. “Vivienne?”
Vivienne rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “Fine! I’m wanted for slaughtering eight Crystal Braves anyway.”
“Eight!?” Achiyo exclaimed.
“It was a bit hairy at the Rising Stones,” Kekeniro said. “And Vivienne was being quite stubborn. I helped, though. Technically she only killed five.”
“I bet she was,” Tam said. “Still, impressive.”
“I don’t need your praise, bastard.”
“And I don’t need to go to Ishgard with you, but here we are.”
“Peace,” Achiyo said. They needed to stay on topic. “It is enough to know that we are all going together. Yet such numbers are sure to strain the city’s goodwill, and perhaps even House Fortemps’ hospitality…”
“We’ll have to wait and see what they say,” Tam said. “If they’re only letting in a few, I think Achiyo, Alphinaud, Rinala, and/or Vivienne would be the top candidates to get the hell out of Eorzea for a while.”
“But you were there too,” Achiyo objected.
Tam snorted. “You think I can’t dodge a few clumsy bluecoats in the woods?”
“I suppose you can,” she admitted. “Very well. We shall wait and see.”
Three days after they’d come, Tam joined Haurchefant on a patrol up to the Steel Vigil. Normally he would have asked him hunting, but the Dravanian Horde kept popping up all over, and there was no time for leisurely pursuits like pursuing random wild animals across difficult terrain for no particular reason besides the hell of it.
Dragons were more difficult prey anyway, with the added bonus that the ones they fought were just intelligent enough to be clever while not showing significant signs of a sapient intelligence. He’d accept their being unable to speak on the grounds that their scaly lips and tongues were unshaped for the speech of men and women, given the way the dragons of his homeland all had an accent for similar reasons, but the rest of their behaviour did not strike him as anything particularly out of the ordinary compared to an oversized lizard.
And yet sometimes-
He was blurring his perceptions again, seeing ruby and sapphire and gold where there was only grey and black. It didn’t help with Haurchefant beside him, idealistic and fearless as any princeling of his homeland – or at least one in particular. He had to fight the urge to talk to the dragons, to scold them for being so foolish as to set foot in Torakedma with hostile intent, didn’t they know he was going to box their ears and send them back home to General Hoarwilk to deal with, with their crests all fallen like a cuckolded rooster?
And then one of them nearly chewed his arm off, and he settled for stabbing them instead. Hoarwilk wasn’t here anyway, though he would hardly have been surprised to see her and her kalmaerin partner, Tseo, come swooping over the mountainsides to breathe righteous anger upon these whelps, then go dancing off in bright joy to share the skies with each other.
“Tam!” Haurchefant cried as he pulled back, cradling his arm. “Hold a moment, the chirurgeon-”
“Don’t be so jumpy,” Tam said to him. “That’s my job.”
“But you’re not jumpy at all,” Haurchefant said. “Calm as a-” Tam dragoon-jumped on another dragon, who failed to flinch away in time and hissed in death. “I should have known! Why do you do this?” And more softly, “Why am I such a fool?”
“You’ve only known me nearly a year,” Tam said, grinning, returning to his side. His arm stung when he flexed his other arm. “Where did you say the healer was?”
“Let me see,” Haurchefant said, pulling him back from the dwindling melee and poking at his torn sleeves. Tam looked impatiently back over at the knights forming a defensive line against several aevis and dragonflies, but Haurchefant wouldn’t let go of his arm. “Ho there, Odrault, bandages! I’m sure you can get Master Aentfryn or Rinala to heal you once we’re home, but we can’t have you bleeding all over the snow, picturesque though it may be.”
“No fairy tales of a black-haired, red-lipped beauty for you?” Tam quipped, even as the words brought unsettling images of a cold-eyed maniac to mind.
Haurchefant chuckled as he wrapped the bandages. “I was always fond of that faerie story, but my tastes have changed since I was a lad.”
“I could have helped your knights with three more dragons in this time,” Tam said impatiently. “Remind me why we have to go with knights at all?”
“Because you may be the most splendid adventurer in all the realm, but I am merely average – perhaps slightly above average, with my privileged upbringing affording me good tutors, but I still fight best with my loyal men at my side. And I mislike your bleeding, as I said! Hold still, Tam!”
Tam gave an exaggerated groan and rolled his eyes. “Holding still is for the dead.”
“You’re a child,” Haurchefant told him, tying off the ends.
“Everyone who thinks they aren’t a child says that,” Tam said, and exploded back into the fray.
Patrol ended without further incident, and they returned to Camp Dragonhead in the evening. Dinner was strangely quiet yet again, not that it bothered Tam – it was hardly his first awkward meal around folk who were not in the mood for talking. They’d get over it eventually. But Haurchefant’s mood dropped too, and that was not unexpected but also not ideal. The young lord was trying to hide it, but it wasn’t difficult to notice after they’d been out all day in the bracing air.
So when Haurchefant invited him to his room for a drink, Tam accepted. Liquor helped with these dramatic youngsters and their passionately felt emotions. It didn’t help with his nihilism, but that couldn’t be helped by anything so it was a moot point.
The door closed behind him, and suddenly he felt hands against his back – shy, hesitant touches that even he couldn’t interpret as anything else. He grew very still. “Haurchefant…”
“Tam, I-I…” Arms snaked around him to hold him close; he could feel Haurchefant’s forehead resting between his shoulderblades. “Pray do not… I do not wish to take advantage of you – I care for you, truly, I admire you, I adore you! So I pray you, just for one night…”
Tam let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. All those blushes, those sparkling grey-blue eyes, those breathless compliments… he hadn’t seen where the obvious signs were pointing. He’d forgotten that it was possible for one of these short-lived, hormonal Eorzeans to fall in love with him. Him. The crazy old… “Haurchefant. Did I ever get around to telling you I’m not Elezen?”
“Yes…” The young man’s arms were tense with apprehension, justified apprehension. Tam really didn’t want to do this, but his hand had been forced. “I accept that you’re older than the Fifth Umbral Calamity, that you’re from another world, that you-”
“I can’t return your feelings the way you want me to.”
“I-I know. Or I guessed.” The arms fell away, and Tam turned to see Haurchefant, bravely meeting his gaze with tear-bright eyes. “I knew you would not… we’re both men… but I still wanted to tell you, in case. I knew I was a fool, yet I hoped anyway…”
“You’re not a fool,” Tam said quietly. “At least not in the way you think you are. Look, kid. I do care for you, more than I ever thought I’d care for someone in this strange land. But I can’t fall in love. I don’t like hugs – I’m not a touchy person. And I can’t kiss you – it’s unsanitary. It’s not because we’re both men. I have never felt that way about anyone. And… I’m sorry. I want you to be happy, but while you feel this way, your happiness does not lie with me.”
Haurchefant’s face flickered in his mind’s eye – half forgotten confessions from another lifetime rising before him, and the rejected disappointment after. Some had turned to scorned anger, some had run sobbing. He never understood why, it wasn’t like he was unique among his people; maybe one in five also rejected romantic relationships. When the faces settled, Haurchefant was neither angry nor running, only trying to smile at him, and surprisingly, mostly succeeding. “Do not be sorry. You cannot help it. I hoped for too much, and reached too far.”
“Haurchefant.” Tam wanted to shake him. “What’s with that ghastly look? It’s all right to cry. Come here.” Against his own inclinations, he reached out and pulled him against him, patting his shaggy steel-grey head. “This land has a thing against men crying, but mine doesn’t. And you have a right to cry, I’ve disappointed you bitterly. You of all people deserve happiness.”
“Not bitterly,” Haurchefant mumbled, snuggling into his chest and letting tears run down his cheeks. Tam resisted the urge to end the hug, after he’d initiated and everything. Sometimes his young prince had needed comforting too. “You could never.”
Tam shook his head. “If I haven’t yet, I will. If it’s any consolation, never forget that I consider you my closest friend in Eorzea. In another century my protegé and spiritual nephew might have competition.”
Haurchefant choked a laugh. “A century? I’ll see what I can do. If you don’t mind having an old and creaky friend.”
“What’s wrong with being old and creaky?” There was something hard and lumpy between them, and Tam straightened. “Here, there’s something I can give you.”
Haurchefant let go of him as Tam pulled the golden chain and ruby medallion from under his coat, lifting it from around his neck. “What is that?”
“Some old thing,” Tam said. “I’m not particularly attached to it anymore. It has no significance in this land. And not a lot left in the land I’m from. It would suit you better.” The explanation would take longer than he had patience for, and if he told him anything about it, he might refuse to take it under some mistaken notion that Tam should keep it, but it deserved to go to an actual knight, not a man with no lord nor land left to serve.
Haurchefant stared in confusion as he held it out to him. But then his face melted into a smile. “’Tis kind of you. And beautiful. I shall treasure it always.”
Tam shrugged as Haurchefant accepted it. “Anyway, am I still allowed to drink your cognac?”
“Drink anything you like, my friend! Could I interest you in some Daniffen’s Joy? Let me get glasses…”
They drank, probably too much for both of them. “’M I still allowed to love you though?” Haurchefant slurred after the third glass, leaning his head against Tam’s shoulder as they sat before the fire. Just for tonight, he allowed it. “Can’t jus’ stop all ‘f a sudden.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Tam said indulgently. “Love whoever you want. I’m not going t’ be uncomfortable like those kids downstairs. Just as long ‘s you don’t start biting me or whatever the local courtship rituals are.”
Haurchefant blushed scarlet, though he’d already been tinged by the drink, giggling hysterically. “By th’ Fury, Tam, you’ll be th’ death ‘f me yet.”
“Why, you’d rather I bite you instead?”
“Stop, stop! …Yes.”
Tam snorted a laugh and poured more drink. “You’re so like to Flairé. ‘Cept I think he tends the same way I do.”
“Who’s… Flairé?”
“My protegé. The only lord I’ve ever sworn t’ serve without reservations. A child with a big grin and an open heart, with an idealism as big as the world and unconditionally gives ‘is all? Who else could that describe?” He leaned over and poked Haurchefant in the belly, making him curl up defensively, still giggling.
“’M not a child!” he protested loudly.
“When you get t’ my age,” Tam said, mock-wisely, “Ishgard will prolly have fallen over again just from the wind. It’s still pretty new, you know.”
“’Tis a thous’nd years old!”
“Tch. Still in the prime of its youth.”
Haurchefant smiled sweetly at him. “I thought ‘d spend the evening tenderly inspecting your wounds, but this ‘s nearly ‘s nice an outcome. More?”
“You’re sure?” Tam said, half-tilting the bottle towards the eager glass. “You seem a little out of it.”
“I’ll be asleep soon, ‘s certain enough. Tam…”
“Yes, kiddo?”
The pout he got was worth it. “Not a… ‘kiddo’. Urgh. Won’t you stay, still? Jus’ beside me, tonight?”
He shrugged. “Guess I could. Special deal. One night only.”
“You make me happy jus’ by being here,” Haurchefant said quietly, and that did something queer to Tam’s heart. It was rare anything- anyone touched him there, anymore…
He woke long before Haurchefant did, getting up to put his boots on, and spent a few minutes looking down at him in the grey light of early morning. Tam had slept nearly fully dressed, but Haurchefant’s hair was messed up and all over his eyes, and one long bare arm was resting on the outside of the coverlets, towards where Tam had been sleeping. “Don’t set your heart on me, boy. You’re too young to bind your life to me. I can’t bring you happiness.”
“…alr’dy ‘ave…” Haurchefant mumbled in his sleep, and Tam paused, before grabbing his coat and leaving silently.
Waiting to be allowed entry was wearying for Achiyo. They ought not to leave the castle in case the Crystal Braves had infiltrated the rest of Central Coerthas, and she was not used to more than a few days’ inactivity. Had not been since her ettiquette tutoring came to a close, save the four-moon voyage to Eorzea more than a year past. She did not want to tempt fate, but she was restless. The threat of being caught and killed did not stop everyone, however; Tam was in and out as he pleased, and Vivienne went out with Chuchupa, R’nyath, and Aentfryn once to slay ogres. There was something off about their Dark Knight… but perhaps she was simply still simmering over having been driven out of Eorzea. Haurchefant tried to support everyone, in between his own duties to his house and his nation, his smile and sympathy never fading.
Rinala was still shattered, only just beginning to recover sound and motion at the loss of so many she loved. Tam came to her after one of his excursions, bringing her both her Thancred doll and the winter clothes she had left behind in Mor Dhona, and she accepted them mutely. Achiyo hoped it gave her comfort, but she was still unnaturally pale and her shadowed eyes, strangely washed out without her eyeliner, were sleepless. But Alphinaud at least, though he was subdued, was making an effort to remain hopeful. Tataru fluttered between them both, trying to be of help, and to keep her own spirits up by doing so. Alphinaud’s burdens lay heavy, though, and she caught much sighing out of him. “How could I have done this? What chaos have I wrought among the nations where I only wished to bring peace and order?” “It’s all my fault. My mistakes will linger and echo through Eorzea.” “People are dead because of me! I don’t deserve to be trusted in command ever again.”
To which Tataru would say: “But you did a lot of good in there, too! You saved all kinds of people! And we’ll help fix everything. You’ll see!” And he would smile a little half-smile and nod a little half-nod, and look towards Ishgard.
Achiyo observed, but there was much she was still digesting in her own spirit. She tried not to brood, and yet how easy it was to gravitate towards a window and watch the spring snow falling, away from the others. How easy it was to neither see nor hear anything about her, lost in bitter memory.
She was… shamed at how things had turned at the banquet. All her strength and experience, every sacrifice and victory she’d ever made, meant nothing in that moment where she had drawn her sword on those who would bind Rinala unjustly. She’d stabbed one man in the shoulder, but in those close quarters, and still trying not to slay them, she’d been slow to manoeuvre, and they’d dogpiled her before one of them struck her on the head with a pommel. She should have been quicker to blind them, to-
Shameful. She’d been unable to protect herself, unable to protect those who needed her… though if Tam had had her back-! She was still angry with him for remaining inactive to suit his own agenda, though she forebore to show it – in the end, what difference could they have made? To stun every Brass Blade, to fight their way through a horde of blue and red soldiers, while their healer was incapacitated by grief, to make it to the other Scions, and then the ending would have played out exactly the same, would it not? Would Teledji have died at her hands rather than Raubahn’s? Would he have died at all if he had not been arrogant in victory? She had tried imagining other outcomes, but none of them felt real. The Sultana would still have been dead.
Still, she should have fought harder. Could she have killed eight men as Vivienne had? She wasn’t sure. But she wished she had done something. She wished she’d fought beside Raubahn. Beside Yda and Papalymo. Beside Thancred and Y’shtola. She’d done nothing, only followed the directions of the others. Shameful.
They looked to her as a leader. What leader was she?
What infuriated her most about their enemies was Ilberd. Treacherous, hypocritical Ilberd, who had said such fine words to Eline Roaille and reneged on every one of them. She had thought him a kindred spirit until she had begun to suspect his corruption, and his betrayal felt almost personal, sparking a storm of rage within her that swirled unabated whenever she remembered him. Had he even meant those words, or had he been false since the beginning!? His honour was ashes, and she wondered if he even cared. To cheerfully indulge in such wanton cruelties unprovoked towards his former friend, to take Lolorito’s money over Alphinaud’s united Eorzea… Of all the people who had taken advantage of Alphinaud’s naivety and idealism, he was the one she most wanted to punish. She wanted them all brought to justice, futile a wish as it might have been, but that betrayal-!
It was useless to dwell on the past, she knew so well already, both her actions and others’ actions… but it was difficult not to, with their future uncertain and their present idle. And deeper thoughts, older thoughts now surfaced, things she hadn’t had time to think about since she had come to Eorzea. Those she had lost before, when she had done nothing and followed directions…
Grieving was something she could do, and yet though she had admired Nanamo and wished for nothing more than to support her in the uphill battle of her life, her grief for the young woman was buried beneath her worry for the missing Scions. As the days went by, and nothing was heard from any of them, what could she do but fear the worst?
And yet no reports of bodies had come to them. Dared she hope?
Shame, anger, grief, painful hope went through her in cycles, and she could not show any of it, for they needed her to be strong, and a samurai’s daughter did not break down in front of anyone.
Was it still a good idea for her to have come to Eorzea? The answer came slower than in the past, but… yes. She was still more alive than she had been before. She did not regret meeting her friends. Though losing some of them… hurt…
Kekeniro came up to her on the second day. “I wanted to apologize.”
“Whatever for?” she asked, surprised.
He shuffled, looking down at his hands clutching his grimoire like a talisman. “I should have been at the banquet instead of at home reading. I feel like I could have helped, tactically, martially. Maybe we wouldn’t have lost people if I’d been there… Maybe we could have brought the situation back under control. We always did work best as a full team.”
“It’s no one person’s fault,” she said, for that, at least, she could accept as true without letting herself off the hook. “We did not know.” It had been someone’s job to know, but she did not know who, since even Tam had not known things would turn out like this, and laying blame without solving the problem was the worst thing to do. “I, too, feel like I could have done more. We all do.”
“I’ll make up for it in the battles to come. I promise. I’ll keep everyone alive.”
Don’t make promises no one can keep, she wanted to say, but there was a stubborn glint in his grey eyes, and she said nothing. “Do not dwell on it if you can,” she said, fully aware of her hypocrisy. “Does Lilidi know?”
He looked away again. “I can’t get in touch with her, or even her retainers. My linkpearl doesn’t reach to Ul’dah, not through this weather. I’ve written a letter, but I’m a little afraid someone will find it who shouldn’t…” He frowned. “Yet if I don’t send it, she will be angry that I didn’t try. I don’t know what to do.”
“She will believe in you,” Achiyo said. “I would err on the side of caution, were it me…”
“Then I’ll hold on to this for now,” Kekeniro said. “Thanks.”
“Think nothing of it. But I promise you will be there when we finally find those responsible for this.”
“Between your leadership and my strategies, we will prevail,” he said, giving her a firm nod. “We will bring justice for the fallen.”
The snow yet fell, day after day; the Crystal Braves came one day, were rebuffed, and did not return. Achiyo waited, and tried not to brood.
And then at last, word came – Ishgard would open her gates to outsiders, for the first time in decades. All ten of the Scions would be permitted entry, as wards of House Fortemps, though there was no talk yet of allowing other adventurers beyond the Arc of the Worthy. Haurchefant had run to fetch them, shouting and gesticulating like a boy, and beamed all day afterwards. Even the gloomiest of the Scions could not fail to be heartened at his joy and excitement, and the other residents of the castle were happy for them too.
And when Achiyo first stepped past the gate on a clear, cold, spring day, with her friends behind her and Haurchefant beside them, and saw those mighty towers about her rising up, up, up into the heavenly blue overhead, she felt a flutter of real hope awaken in her heart. Not too much – Ishgard could yet cast her out for nothing more than her race – but what she knew of their stiff-necked pride meant she could trust them to shelter her no matter what, as long as she obeyed their rules.
Haurchefant and the House Fortemps manservant who had come to meet them led them past a fountain with a broken statue towards wide, steep, spiraling stairs towards the upper levels, when Haurchefant suddenly stopped and waved. “Aymeric! Hallooo!”
Achiyo halted nearly as abruptly, turning towards the building on their right. The Lord Commander was leaning out of a window on the third floor, looking down upon them. “Hello, Haurchefant, Scions. I thought you might be arriving today. I fear I am too busy to properly greet you at this time, to my chagrin, but welcome to our fair city! Glad am I to see you here.”
“Thank you!” Alphinaud called back, bowing. Achiyo raised her hand in greeting, but no more. Even so far away, he was striking. Until she could get beyond the shock she still experienced at his unbearably handsome face, she could not confidently interact with him professionally.
“I’m taking them to Fortemps Manor now, so they know where it is,” Haurchefant said. “Drinks later tonight?”
Aymeric shook his head. “I’m afraid I have too much to do. Wait not for me, not this sennight. Pray enjoy yourselves! And welcome, once more.” He waved with a little smile and disappeared back into his office.
Was it her imagination, or had his gaze fixed upon her specifically a little longer than the others? Surely not. It was her unwelcome attraction whispering to her, nothing more.
Count Edmont de Fortemps was not at all like what Achiyo had expected, even after Tam had unfolded enough to give her a brief run-down of the High Houses – she had already been surprised enough to learn that Haurchefant was not the only son of his house, and furthermore was a bastard son. She had hardly guessed from how closely they interacted, from what power he seemed to wield. And Lord Francel being the youngest of five siblings was a surprise to her too. But she warmed to Count Edmont immediately. Though he looked nothing like Haurchefant save for a certain fierceness of eyes and nose, and had much more dignity and gravity as befitting an older gentleman, he was nothing but sincere courtesy to them on their first meeting. And thankfully, all her companions were on their best behavior.
Count Edmont’s sons took after their father much more closely, dark-haired and dark-eyed, but while polite, they were not so friendly as the count. Haurchefant, while he could not remain indefinitely in the city thanks to his duties at Camp Dragonhead, tried to have them all interact at dinner that first evening, though not with much success.
Walking the lower streets of Ishgard without a House Fortemps escort was… a mixed experience for Achiyo. On one hand, the city was largely as beautiful to walk as it had appeared from a distance. Yes, there was much ruin and destruction in the lower levels of the city where the poor lived, and she felt a pang of guilty responsibility when she observed how much there was, but there was strength in these stones, a strength she had not felt even from Ul’dah’s thick walls, a pride, a majesty. And the grey towers pierced the sky, white and gold if she really craned her neck to see the higher levels, spires and pinnacles and graceful buttresses and beautifully elaborate carvings with intricate symmetries. Somehow the gothic conglomeration was both austere and grim, and energetically beautiful.
Knights marched by in small groups constantly, grimly intent, their mail jingling and swords clattering; orders rang out sternly and a Dragonslayer harpoon was wheeled by, up to the outer walls to replace a damaged one. The wind blew crisp and cold from the Sea of Clouds as a flock of white pigeons suddenly erupted with a chatter of wings from the plaza into the sky, spiralling around the tips of the near towers where blue banners waved; children played with sticks and snowballs in street corners. It was as foreign to her again as anything else in Eorzea, but somehow she was drawn to it.
Less pleasing was the way any and all passersby stared at her, some with curiosity, many with hostility, some with outright contempt. It didn’t matter whether the person staring was a haughty, well-dressed Elezen, an anonymous knight in armour, a ragged Hyur; their eyes followed her all the same, with an intensity greater than she’d experienced since arriving in Limsa Lominsa for the first time. And whispers followed her, too, some she could hear.
“So that’s the girl. She doesn’t look very strong… but looks can be deceiving with dragons, they say.”
“She must have a… special understanding with the Lord Commander to have gained entrance to the city.”
“He’s a paedophile, then. Perverted.”
By this point she was trembling with rage and assaulted honour – and Aymeric-sama’s honour was also slandered! How dare they! He and she had both fought and bled for them, he was their protector! And yet they still said cruel, digusting lies!
They knew nothing, she reminded herself firmly, and kept going as if she didn’t hear, swallowing the rage. They were not worth her time, and they only wanted her to prove herself as badly behaved as they hoped she was. She’d heard things of the sort before… even if never this vicious, or strangely personally stinging. They were only unduly threatened by her foreign appearance in their comfortable little insular world, only wanted to see her humble, to reassure themselves that they were the powerful ones. They would not get the satisfaction, not even the satisfaction of a response, neither humble nor angry. She was their equal, even if they could not admit it to themselves.
And it wasn’t like they could do anything to her, not without a great deal of political manoeuvring to get around Count de Fortemps.
But that didn’t stop some of her companions. “Hey, ye wanna repeat that to my face?” Chuchupa demanded of the last person who spoke, a man in House… Dzemael colours, if she remembered correctly; it was difficult for her to tell without a shield or badge. Not dressed as a high-ranking noble, so not anyone too important… but still, any wrong move they made against anyone could be dangerous while they were still new-come to the city.
“I beg your pardon?” sputtered the man.
“Repeat what ye said ’bout Achiyo! Unless ye’re a bigger coward than ye look.”
“Chuchupa,” Achiyo said coldly. They were not here to argue with the locals. Though she was pleased that Chuchupa had not called her ‘Princess’ for once, or else things would be worse. Chuchupa could have tact when it was important. “Leave it.”
“You forget to whom you speak,” the man retorted. “I am a knight of House Dzemael! You are but uncouth, slovenly aliens! You cannot demand anything of me.”
“Ain’t yer momma ever taught ye manners, dhalmel-neck!?” But not that much tact.
“Base insults move me not. Are you not here because you yourselves are cowards, fleeing from Eorzea!? Go back to where you came from, outsiders!”
“That tears it!” Chuchupa bellowed, and would have run off to punch the fellow if Tam had not neatly scooped her into the air. “TAM!” Tam said nothing, only grimaced as he held the kicking Lalafell over his shoulder.
“Your pride and violence are unseemly! Humble yourselves before the Fury, or she will see you condemned to Hell!” Even more passersby were turning to look, though few stopped, but most seemed perfectly at ease with what he was saying.
Achiyo turned and looked at the man – simply stared, icily defiant, at the sneering, self-righteous face she wanted to punch until it bled. She did nothing. He was not worth the effort. Though if looks could kill, he would have been struck down instantly.
She had hoped he would eventually crumble in the restrained face of her silent censure, but she was to be disappointed; his belief in himself was too strong, when better people than he had backed down from one of her Looks in the past. “You have something to say, ward of House Fortemps?”
And she had thought the people of Hingashi narrow-minded. She turned away wordlessly. He had not won, even if he believed he did to sooth his own ego. Her pride would never be humbled by the vile words of an ignorant hatemonger, nor would she bend it for his sake. For he was not the one who mattered. Only House Fortemps and Aymeric de Borel truly mattered.
But it was not the only time that whispers followed her in the streets, calling her Dravanian, she-devil, harlot-child. She ignored them. It was better than being arrested for murder by a nation she had only tried to serve.
R’nyath was having a rather better day; he’d wandered to the lower western side of the city, following what he had thought were immense drumbeats; he was somewhat disappointed to find a factory producing them instead. But, he was there, and he might as well take a look while he was, so he glanced in.
Immediately, he was pounced upon by a tall Elezen man with aristocratic looks and engineer’s garb, prowling around him with a strange device that beeped and flashed.
“Er…”
“Oh!” The man jumped. “I beg your pardon. Ahem… Welcome to the Skysteel Manufactory, where miracles are born from aether, metal, and imagination!”
“You have my attention,” R’nyath said, pricking his ears. “I like all of those things. Especially that weapon-y-looking thing over there. I mean no offense, but it looks… Garlean, and yet not?”
“Indeed! The future lies in machinistry – a technology that weds the genius of Master Garlond’s magitek with traditional aetherology. Every single one of my latest creations employs the principles of this unique discipline. Ah, in my excitement, I’ve neglected to introduce myself! The name’s Stephanivien. Stephanivien de Haillenarte. And you are…?”
“R’nyath Tia, currently ward of House Fortemps. I am but a simple bard, and this all looks terribly complicated. I never could follow what Cid was doing when he was working on the Enterprise…” But he moved a few steps closer to the weapon. He would never have guessed that poetic Francel’s older brother was an engineer.
“Have no fear! These weapons are so simple a child could use them. Not that a child should use them. But though I would dearly love to expound upon my revolutionary theories, we should begin by familiarizing you with the tools of the trade, so to speak. Have you time now for a brief lesson…?”
“Absolutely!” R’nyath cried. If this worked the way he thought it did, well, he had excellent hand-eye coordination and fantastic aim. There was no harm in adding another weapon to his repertoire.
Except then it turned out the master of marksmanship was missing, gone off to La Noscea – or so said Stephanivien’s little beeping device. Stephanivien and his timid-looking assistant, Joye, immediately turned to him with such trusting looks he was taken aback. “For an explorer who has braved the harshest corners of Eorzea, the wilds of La Noscea must be akin to a garden path! Is that not so?”
“Errrr…” R’nyath hesitated. “As long as you don’t go shouting about that I’m with you, everything should be fine! Also how are we going there? I don’t suppose you’ve ever attuned to Camp Overlook before?” He was really just supposed to be exploring the city…! And he might not be a big target for the Crystal Braves, but… aw, hells with it.
“Well… no. I was going to propose a jaunt in my personal airship. ‘Tis big enough for three!”
“But me lordship,” protested Joye softly. “The price of ceruleum…”
“How long would it take?” R’nyath demanded.
“Er… we should be back by dinner? Don’t fret about the fuel, Joye, there’s a dear. ‘Twill be worth every onze to have Rostnsthal back with us.”
“All right!” R’nyath cried. “I’m in. Why not? Let’s go!”
And then the Roegadyn had the nerve to call him ‘sausage-fingered’.