If you haven’t seen The Echoes of Achiyo Kensaki yet, it’s been posted!
Omg I rewrote the garden scene like 5 times before I found the right soundtrack to help me though (it’s Joe Hisaishi). Very self-indulgent again but I regret nothing.
I used The Dreamers from Tsubasa Chronicle OST as music inspo for the sparring scene. : )
I’m not really sure about this chapter, but there’s only so long I can bang away on it so here it is for better or worse. It may be a while before the next one is out as I’m quite tired in general and trying to take it easy even for fiction writing. And I’m playing FF3! Look at all these names I remember from Crystal Tower raids! Noah, Xande, Unei… (and I renamed Ingram to Corey because when Drak was just starting to post NEST videos, he used Ingram-as-Warrior for Corey’s sprite and that’s all I think of now. I did not rename the others though I could have hahaha. I do like their default names – Luneth is such a nice name!)
Chapter 66: Ishgardian Intermission
Achiyo walked the small garden of Fortemps Manor, thinking intently. The sun was soft and warm, and within the walls of the manor there was no snow; in fact, there were flowers blooming. On the first few days that had been a delight to her, to see flowers in Ishgard, but now she did not take notice of them, or even the world around her.
It had been such a relief to have a respite from the pressures and responsibilities that had weighed upon her for so long; she had slept overlong nearly every morning that sennight, and spent her afternoons and evenings telling of her tales to the Fortemps men, when they were not busy with their own work. They had each been very complimentary about the gifts she had given each of them, and the wall hanging was already in a prominent place in the sitting room.
She had enjoyed spending an entire sennight wearing dresses instead of armour, and her gear had been mended and polished in the meantime. In the hours when she was not with her ‘brothers’ or Lord Edmont, she poked at their bookshelves, reading novels, or about the lives of their saints – with a grain of salt for any parts that referenced the Dragonsong War. Which was a lot of parts, to be honest… Or she walked through the garden, or the city, stretching her legs in a leisurely way, visiting clothing stores and perhaps spending some of her Alliance reward on ordering Eorzean dresses, modified for her tail. It was very relaxing indeed. The terrors of the battles she had been through were beginning to fade.
Though they would not disappear too quickly, perhaps. Saulette had been assigned to tend to her personal needs, helping her dress or carrying her purchases, and on the second morning she had been woken at dawn by the young girl nervously calling her. “Lady Achiyo? Lady Achiyo! Oh, do wake up! You’re having a nightmare!”
Achiyo had sat up, startled – she was a light sleeper – and stared at Saulette in confusion. Her dreams… at the instant of waking, they became a confused jumble. But… yes, she had been afraid, and angry, and trapped in them. Zenos… she remembered Zenos. She remembered bullets and blood. She remembered Shinryu blasting the Warriors of Light with his green laser, and in her dream her friends died around her to it… “Th-thank you.”
“You were all tense, and making little noises,” Saulette said anxiously. It looked as if she had been tending the fire in Achiyo’s dressing room. “Shall… Shall I fetch Lord Edmont?”
Achiyo took a deep breath. “I will be well now that you have awakened me. May I have some water?”
“At once!”
She did not feel rested, and once she’d had the water, lay down again to sleep more. She would chance more nightmares.
Fortunately, they did not return. Of course Lord Edmont and Artoirel fussed over her with great concern once she did get up several bells later. It was… expected, for surely Saulette would inform her masters, and yet Achiyo did not know how to respond to it. She did not want to worry them. But she must be honest. “Even when training as a mercenary I had no anticipation of facing gods nor armies. I was prepared to kill, and perhaps to die, in my career but not in… such ways. But, though such experiences cause me to falter now, I promise I will not bring shame upon you.”
Lord Edmont shook his head, a bit upset that such would be her first concern. “You could not. You are the most honourable of knights, dear girl. Our only concern is how we might alleviate your distress.”
“I know too well the effort to appear flawless in public,” Artoirel said. “But I understand also how waking horror can follow one into dreams. Now here you are in private, with family. If you falter, surely there is no better time nor place.”
Family. Yes. They really did take that wish of hers seriously. “Thank you,” she said. “You already do so much for me, I cannot think how you could do more. You grant me peace, and rest, and companionship when I have need of it. I believe it will only take time now.”
Lord Edmont nodded, understanding her words, though Artoirel still looked like he wanted to do something.
And now she walked the garden, several days later, enjoying the sunlight, so much less harsh than Gyr Abania’s sun. There was a wish in her heart that she had thought about through Doma and the Steppe and the long voyages. Lord Edmont’s offer of formal, legal adoption had not left her mind. She had turned it down before, partly from not wishing to impose, or to jump impulsively into something so permanent, and partly from a feeling that it was unfair to Percival. He had been a ‘father’ to her for sixteen and a half years, protecting her, providing for her, teaching her, with great sacrifice and struggle, and never allowed her to claim such a close connection. What right did she then have in joining a family whom she had only known for two years? Really only one year, she had been away so long. They had welcomed her back enthusiastically, but would they really want a daughter so flighty and unreliable? Adoptions between nobles were dreadfully commonplace in Hingashi, she knew, but Ishgard was not Hingashi, nor was this a political situation as it would be there.
And yet, and yet…
“What weighs upon your mind?” She looked up to see Artoirel nearby, leaning on a pillar of the house.
Should she tell him? “I… am yet thinking of… what your father said to me back when I first told him you were like family to me.” She could at least trust that if the offer was rescinded, Artoirel would be courteous and delicate about it.
He nodded, and came to join her on her walk. “When he offered to formally adopt you. You had not thought about it then. I take it you have thought about it since.” He hadn’t said to forget it.
“Yes,” she said. “Though I hesitate to…” She trailed off. This was too big to ask directly, but she did not know what words to use.
“Speak freely,” he said. “Naught has changed. Unless you have substantially changed from the woman who fought beside us, beside me so many times, who shared in our fears and triumphs, who proudly wore our colours in the grand mêlée and still bears our shield wherever she goes.”
That was true, and remembering those times reassured her. She was not dependent on the Fortemps family as she had been on Percival, being a woman grown and not a child, but even if it had only been a year they were nearly as dear to her all the same. “I am honoured to bear it.”
Artoirel glanced around. “And let us hope that Emmanellain is not listening – nay, he is in Camp Dragonhead today.”
She smiled. “He would beg me to join at once, that he may boast of his sister and not only in private.”
“Indeed.”
She raised her chin. With his encouragement, she would say her piece with confidence. “I meant it, and still do, when I said you are like a brother to me. We are of one mind on many things; we believe in the same ideals, fight for the same goals. And family does not grow the less family for separation. My wish to be with you all grew stronger the longer I was gone. But I do not wish to impose myself upon you. I am… not even of Ishgard.”
“Yet you still think of us in such a way,” he said, and gave her a wry smile. “I myself had wondered if you should wish to return to us when Ser Aymeric is offering you a more permanent situation. An unworthy, cowardly thought, but though ’tis clear that Ishgard is your home, I feared you would not need more than one family.”
She had not thought that proud, unruffled Artoirel would also be having insecure thoughts; she had hardly dared hope he would care so deeply. “I do wish that you remain part of my family, though I go someday to be Aymeric’s wife. I only hope that will not cause problems for you, or for Aymeric, for him to have a wife so intimately connected to House Fortemps.”
Artoirel snorted. “Ser Aymeric has long been known to be friendly to House Fortemps, even as Lord Commander. His marrying a daughter of Fortemps would not change a thing. Even if it did, why should any of us give a fig for it?”
“Of course,” she said, smiling. It was a minor point; she had only thought that if there might be a problem, perhaps she could do something to make it less problematic. Her look turned wistful. “My greatest fear is that I simply cling to you because I do not want to be… alone… again…” They would surely not perish because of her, like Percival, or simply vanish from her life like Tamehiro and Ayame. But she prayed that her love for them was not blindly rooted in their stability.
Artoirel stopped and looked down on her, compassion bleeding through his stoic expression. “Why do you doubt your heart in this?”
“It is too good to be true,” she murmured. From when she arrived in Eorzea, a slightly impoverished mercenary violently bereft of home and relations, to now being a renowned hero enfolded in the care of a warm and generous family who also happened to be rich and powerful, to say nothing of the equally rich and powerful, beautiful and loving fiancé who adored her… That was something that only happened in legends and fairy tales.
Artoirel’s words came slowly. “I know you have lost many dear to you. I cannot promise that you will not lose any of us – though Ishgard is finally at peace with Dravania, this world is full of uncertainty, and I am a knight sworn to defend my people, as is Emmanellain, and our father, even if he is too old to fight on the front lines. But I can promise that while we live, we shall care for you as our own… Sister.”
What did she say to such an affirmation? “Artoirel… my brother…” She was going to get emotional, and neither of them wanted that. But hopefully he could see the gratitude in her eyes.
“We are all far more concerned about losing you,” he said, and he had a point. “You pledge your sword to the world, and I am proud to know so well someone with such compassion and courage, yet I glimpse the dangers you face between the adventurous words of your tales. I am well aware that you have too much to live for to die for no purpose, and yet… Pray do not break my – our father’s heart again.”
After Haurchefant. Yes. Love was truly a double-edged sword. And if not for Rinala… “You have my word I will do all in my power to return to you every time.”
That pleased him. “Then let us talk to our father. He will be delighted.”
Lord Edmont was writing in his study, and looked up as they entered. “How may I be of service?”
Artoirel looked at her, but she did not need encouragement now. She stepped forward. “My lord – chichi-ue – I should like to take you up on your offer of formal adoption. I have thought carefully on it, and I truly love this family as my own. If I can do anything to return your kindness…”
Lord Edmont beamed at her and stood. “I should be very pleased to make it so. Though I did not have the honour of raising you, you are dear to us all in the same way.” Artoirel nodded firmly. “Thus you need do nothing, the pleasure of your company alone is more than enough. Rare though I expect it will be in the days to come… Ishgard stands now at peace with her neighbours, but ever the world grows more tumultuous, and as a Scion of the Seventh Dawn, you must be ever in the thick of it. When you have rested, your destiny will not lie here for some time, I expect, though part of me wishes that it did…”
“I wish it as well,” she said. She was glad that he understood. “Whenever I have time, I shall return. There is nowhere else I would rather be.” She could wish they could come with her – Artoirel, at least, and Emmanellain, to share in the travels, even if she would guard them from the dangers. But they had other responsibilities. To share in their home was enough for her.
“That will be better than hearing the tales of your exploits from hearsay and rumour,” Artoirel said. “Ser Aymeric is kind enough to bring us what unclassified reports he can, but your own words are far superior.”
“And while you are here, I can be assured of your health and safety,” Lord Edmont said. “Forgive me. I find myself growing more and more sentimental in my old age… and in working on my memoirs, I have had to reflect on the darker chapters of my life…” He touched the edge of the book. “Haurchefant… lived his to the fullest… and if his story is preserved for generations to come, then I… I should be glad of it…”
“He deserves no less,” she said. “The one who brought us together without reservation…” The one who had looked at her and seen not a Dravanian spy, but a person like any other, the one who had smiled at her and offered her a place at his hearth.
Lord Edmont straightened, came to her, and put his hands on her shoulders. “You will always have a place here, Achiyo, daughter of House Kensaki and House Fortemps. Do not let us keep you from your labours, for the world waits for none – not even you – but know that you are one of us now, and we shall not give you up, until it is to the one you love.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I am grateful with all my heart.”
“I will send for the lawyer,” Artoirel said. “Let us inform Emmanellain… and prepare to endure his exultation.”
Aymeric returned to Ishgard, treaties signed with Doma and the Alliance, and was summarily invited to Fortemps Manor with Lucia. They were both taken aback at the news that Achiyo had been adopted; she had not had time to tell them even that she had been thinking about it at any point before. “It is like you have no need of me,” Aymeric said privately to her, pretending to be affronted.
“I love them, anata,” she said, “but I don’t want to kiss them.”
He laughed at her words. “Nay, nay, I jest. I am very pleased for you. Everyone ought to have a home, and they are worthy folk.” He lowered his voice. “Though I will admit, while Lord Edmont has long watched over me almost like he was also my father after the passing of my late adopted father, Lord Artoirel for many years I only knew second-hand from Haurchefant’s grousing…”
Artoirel approached them and Aymeric straightened up with a pleasant face. “Ser Aymeric, might I perchance interest you and Dame Lucia in sparring with Achiyo and me?”
Aymeric chuckled. “With the woman who fought Prince Zenos to a stand-still? We shan’t stand a chance, you realize. She has been training like a madwoman all year.”
Achiyo glanced at Lucia, but she was not giving anything away, so neither would Achiyo. The fact that they had already crossed blades would be their secret. “I had been training to face a man with a katana, not a longsword. And I have not touched a weapon since I returned.”
Lucia smirked. “Ah, you think to lull us into the false notion that we stand a chance regardless.”
“I’m glad you have been granted a respite,” Aymeric said. “What I meant was that I should be most pleased to accept the invitation. I look forward to admiring my fiancée’s battle prowess from an extremely close proximity.” She didn’t know if she should laugh or blush at such an assertion.
“I am slightly rusty myself,” Artoirel said. “Come with me! We did not invite you to wear armour to this gathering, so allow us to provide sparring gear.”
The garden had open space enough to allow one pair, at least, to duel, as the others watched. Achiyo faced against Aymeric, both wearing plain chainmail and wielding training swords and shields. Her heart was really beating faster than necessary; she had never sparred with him before and she had a lot of feelings about that. She didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to go easy on him, didn’t want to let him win, didn’t want him to let her win.
It was all irrelevant. It was just another sparring session. So the look she gave him was rather serious, even though this was for fun. This was… a test, come to think of it. The last time she had sparred with someone who admired her, he had been upset at being defeated. Aymeric had plainly said he would not, was even expecting her to do better than him, but she was still… nervous.
He would not be so dishonourable, at least not in front of their friends. She saluted him, received his salute, and struck forward.
He was good. Of course she knew he was good, but he was very good. He saw her intention to give her all, and he met it with every onze of his own determination. She could not help a smile now. That he would so effortlessly mirror her intensity… this actually would be fun.
The crack of practise blade on practise blade quickened. He had undeniable reach, but she was faster, feinting low then striking high, sliding forward then jumping back. He was not holding back his blows one bit; she parried a slash that had his whole body weight behind it and was sent skidding backwards several fulms, tail flicking for balance. She spun smoothly into a counterattack, sliding down his parry into his personal space. He backed up to give himself more room, shoving her away with his shield – he didn’t normally use one, but for this match all were armed equally. She used the space to throw a lightning-fast flurry of jabs, and he retreated behind his shield again.
“Mercy,” he cried, laughing, swiping at her legs with swift attacks of his own to force her back again. “By the Fury, you are relentless.”
She drew back. “Do you actually wish me to let up?” She… wasn’t sure how successful she would be, but she could try to meet him at his speed.
“‘Twas but a joke made in admiration. Do not hold back!” He beckoned her on again, and again she sprang forward. The slight pause had given him enough of a breather to rally his wits, and he met her sword with his own instead of his shield now. He was trying to regain his momentum, to keep her on the defensive, or he would never get the upper hand over her.
Faster and faster the attacks and counterattacks rang out. She could not get past his defence again, but he was reaching his limit, she was sure of it – he slipped for the briefest of seconds and she lunged.
Don’t break his ribs! her mind shouted at her body, and just in time before she might have fetched him a debilitating crack across his lower right side, she gentled it to a tap. It was still hard enough he went flinching back, falling to one knee to hold his side, but she was reasonably certain she hadn’t just landed him in the infirmary.
He laughed, panting. “I yield. You are truly a force to be reckoned with.”
She sheathed her sword and offered him her hand to help him up. “You are a wonderful opponent. I enjoyed that greatly.” He squeezed her hand as she pulled him up, and she saw unspoken love in his blue eyes.
Artoirel applauded. “Ah, your hard work shines, Achiyo. The battle with Zenos must have been spectacular indeed.”
“I heard from Prince Hien that it was so,” Aymeric said, as the House Fortemps conjurer stepped forward to check him over quickly. “He was most effusive.”
Achiyo did not find the praise warmed her as much as it might have of any other battle. “I had to. There was no other way.” Or she would have died, and others after her.
“Yes, of course,” Aymeric said, reading between her words. “May I take you on, Lord Artoirel? I don’t think we have yet crossed blades in our acquaintance.”
That was a more even match-up, and Achiyo was happy to cheer both of them. Lucia went against Achiyo next, and actually it was more difficult than their heated exchange in Gyr Abania; Lucia had her head on today, and was more deliberate in her movements. It was a narrower win than before. And then Artoirel challenged Lucia, and that, too, was a close battle. Lucia and Aymeric declined to duel each other, naturally, as that was nothing novel to them. “It would feel like work,” Lucia said, and turned to Aymeric. “Ah, yes, speaking of which, Handeloup has requested a fortnight of leave.”
“Certainly he may have it,” Aymeric said. “After taking care of matters here in our absence, he has earned it. Did he mention any plans?”
“A sennight to be with his wife and daughter, and a sennight to travel to Ul’dah for a tournament at the Coliseum.” Lucia looked at Achiyo with idle curiosity. “I wonder how you would fare at such a competition. The best warriors in Eorzea shall be in attendance, but you have defeated perhaps the best warrior in the world. Would it even been a contest?”
“I did not defeat him soundly,” Achiyo said. “He ended the fight before I could strike a decisive blow. But from what you say, perhaps I ought not to go, to make the field fair for the others.” She didn’t want to show up Handeloup.
“And who might wish to test themselves against the Silver Lady?” Artoirel said. “By not going, you may be depriving them of satisfaction, even in defeat – and certainly the onlookers of a show.”
“Well, ’tis but an idea,” Aymeric said. “You do find pleasure in sparring, do you not?”
“I did not use to near as much,” she admitted. Perhaps sometimes with Percival, but even with him not this much, not with their livelihoods riding on it, and after his death it had become only a necessary chore for her. “Chuchupa has helped me to rediscover it.”
“If you enjoy it as much as you did just now, you are welcome to use me as a training dummy at any time you please,” he said, flirting, and she shrank away in giggly blushes.
Lucia and Artoirel both audibly rolled their eyes. “Emphasis on the ‘dummy’, when she is around, I think,” Lucia said under her breath.
“I would not presume to say such a thing,” Artoirel said to her in a voice that said he’d been thinking the same thing. Aymeric turned red to hear both of them, but kept his eyes on her, not them, smiling.
Achiyo mastered her blushes. “Well, I shall think on it.”
“In the meanwhile, shall I take you on, dear sister?” Artoirel said to her. “I have not been training for the past year, as no doubt you observed when I sparred with Ser Aymeric and Dame Lucia; I have but done enough to keep myself in fighting condition. But though I will not be much challenge for you, it would be my pleasure.”
After dinner, Lucia went home, and the rest of the family left Achiyo and Aymeric in the sitting room alone together. Achiyo quickly went to get her gift for him. He stared wide-eyed at the box that she handed him. “You said it was quite large, but… I was not expecting…”
“Do open it,” she urged him. “For in truth, this is also a gift to me.”
He looked suspiciously at her sparkling eyes, but melted at how excited she was. He unwrapped the silk cover and opened the box. “What is… clothing?” The accessories were on top, the geta and tabi and obi and haori, with thin sheets of paper in between everything, and it took a while before he reached the actual kimono. “Truly, ’tis stunning – and my favourite colour.” He held it up and the dark blue shimmered in the wavering firelight; it had been embroidered and painted in black and silver to look as though a stylized stream flowed across the lower third. Elegant, simple, masculine.
“I hope you will wear it one day,” she said.
“I will wear it now if it pleases you, though I haven’t the faintest idea how to do it properly. But how now, you tease me, beloved! Did you get one for yourself? That was the point, was it not?”
“Of course,” she said, and brought out her own box. She was quite looking forward to seeing it too; she had not opened the box since Tataru had given it to her.
There were many more things in her box; a much larger obi, and accompanying obiage, several obidome, obimakura, and obijime, and hair ornaments, but yes, at the bottom was the kimono, of the softest pink hue, silk and gold thread sparkling in the firelight. Aymeric caught his breath to see it, and she rejoiced in his reaction. It was covered in exquisite sprays of white sakura, with small birds and butterflies hidden among them. How might he react to seeing her in it?
It would be improper to show him how to dress, whether on his body or hers. “We cannot wear them tonight. But pray allow me to come over, and I shall show Amaury how to put it on a mannequin for you.”
“That sounds like an excellent notion,” he said. “I shall arrange it. You have no pressing plans for the immediate future?”
“Not at the moment, and may the kami keep it so,” she said. If the Ascians or the Garleans or… or Omega, for instance, started making trouble in the next few days, it would really be upsetting on a personal level. The realm was not truly at peace. But any peace it offered her she needed.
“Then as soon as I am caught up on my work… But now, you do know why the others left us alone in here, yes?”
She blinked, uncomprehending. Not specifically so she could give him his souvenirs, then, or to continue telling him of the East as she had begun over dinner, but…?
He held out his hands to her. “Come here, beloved. Let me hold you.”
She had somehow not thought of that at all, her mind so caught up with the kimono, and met his arms eagerly, though she was still a little startled when he scooped her up to sit on his lap on the sofa, skirts and tail and all. She muffled her squeak as best she could, and the following giggles too. He pressed his forehead to hers, noses brushing. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said. Even if the Fortemps family and servants had deliberately left them alone for some… restrained… cuddling, this still felt very daring, like someone might walk in on them at any moment. They were betrothed, weren’t they? That allowed for a few chaste intimacies like this, especially out of armour for once. She tried not to think about it, to think only of him, his arms around her, his warmth, his breath, the way his mouth was so temptingly close…
She took his face in her hands, feeling the feathery touch of his sideburns under her fingers. She pressed her lips to his and let the butterflies burst as he showered her in passion.
Vivienne was walking the Pillars with Sidurgu and Rielle, taking a break from Arenvald’s treasure hunt. At the moment they were still trying to find clues for where to start; Alphinaud and Aentfryn had buried themselves in the palace archives, Arenvald was wandering the land, and R’nyath was chatting up everyone in the city of Ala Mhigo. Neither she nor Chuchupa were suited to that sort of thing – Chuchupa mumbled something about not havin’ no treasure maps, and taken off to drink in the Drowning Wench – so she’d decided to also leave them to it and visit Ishgard.
At the moment, she was telling them of the Far East. Sidurgu had not been in the Azim Steppe since he had been quite a small boy, and was trying not to show that he was hanging off every word. Rielle was not bothering to hide her interest; Vivienne had not been in the Steppe herself, but she could hardly avoid hearing all about it on the voyage back from R’nyath and Lilidi and Kekeniro, so despite being an awful storyteller, she had enough to satisfy their curiosity – the idea of vast oceans of grass, of the proud, independent tribes, the drama of the Naadam.
Something cracked with a sharp, brittle sound that… was painfully familiar. “Hm?” Sidurgu said. “Damnedest thing, but I swear I heard something in your pack break…”
“Sodding…” Vivienne cursed, digging inside her chestplate. She’d felt this before, or something like it, but then it had been in pitched combat… She pulled out the pouch she normally kept her soul crystal in and dumped it out. It had split exactly in half, and the second half had evaporated. “What the hells?”
“Bloody hells, is that your soul crystal!?” Sidurgu said. “What happened to the other half?”
“Forgive me,” murmured a light voice behind, and they turned together to see an Elezen pre-teen with long pale blue hair down to his waist. He wore plain warm robes, neither rich nor poor. “It seems I am the one responsible…”
“Seems?” Vivienne asked.
“…I do not know you, boy,” Sidurgu growled. “Name yourself.”
“…Myste, my lord,” said the boy awkwardly.
Sidurgu’s eyes narrowed. “…Hm. I’m no lord, and you’re no Myste. Don’t think I wouldn’t know a bastard of the Brume by sight.”
“I have a power,” the boy exclaimed. “A power which I can use to help those in need. Alas, this power requires a tremendous quantity of aether. I thought to draw on natural sources nearby, but in so doing, I stole a portion of that contained within your crystal…”
“How the hells did you do that?” Vivienne demanded. She still had enough power in the crystal to fight, but if any primals popped up when it was in this state, she was going to be in trouble. “And why?”
“Forgive me… Please forgive me,” pleaded the boy. “I will return it to you, I promise, but I must first ask that you allow me to use a portion!”
“If you think I’m just going to let you waltz off with half my strength-” Vivienne began.
“…Myste, was it?” Rielle said, interrupting both the Dark Knights’ grumblings. “Who do you want to help?”
The boy looked down. “Anyone. Everyone. Look around you. Is not this world filled with sadness and despair? If I can free but a single person from their burdens…”
Vivienne was irritably silent. He wasn’t wrong. And her means of helping was limited to killing things. Which at some point would stop being a way to help people.
Rielle turned to her taller companions. “He means well enough. Why don’t we help him find someone in need and give him a chance to use his power?”
“Oh, bloody brilliant!” Sidurgu cried, gesticulating angrily. “Let’s believe the mysterious boy with the mysterious power who mysteriously stole a portion of Vivienne’s soul crystal. What could possibly go wrong?”
“A chance,” Vivienne said to the boy, ignoring Sidurgu. “Let’s see what you have to offer that I cannot.”
Sidurgu sighed as the boy brightened hopefully. “Well, it’s your crystal, Vivienne. Congratulations, boy. You get your wish. We’re not like to find any poor unfortunate souls here, so I suggest we head to Foundation.”
“And if somehow we don’t find anyone suitable there, I’d like my soul crystal back,” Vivienne said. “I’ve got shite to fight.”
The boy bowed repeatedly. “Yes, my lady, my lord! Thank you for placing your trust in me!”
They went down the ramps and came into Foundation near the Congregation, and found a well-dressed lady arguing with a craftsman. Vivienne would have passed her by in search of Brume orphans, but Myste immediately gravitated towards her, so the others followed.
The craftsman left, and the woman turned to them as they approached her, not loathe to share her woes. “…As you may have overheard, I am funding the restoration of the statue of Saint Valeroyant. And, as you may have guessed, it is not going well, on account of my insufficient funds and my family’s growing infamy… I am Millie, and my cousin is… was… Ser Ignasse de Vesnaint of the Heavens’ Ward.”
Vivienne frowned. It had been a while ago, but she wasn’t going to forget that battle, that emotionally-charged death struggle for revenge. …But she’d committed to hearing the kid out.
“He served the archbishop faithfully, together with his sworn brothers,” said Millie. “Great, goodly men who were complicit in terrible crimes, if Ser Aymeric and this Silver Lady are to be believed… Ignasse was distraught when he learned the statue had been destroyed by the Dravanians. He took it upon himself to champion its restoration… but because of these tales, others are reluctant to involve themselves. I do not know nor care if Ser Aymeric speaks the truth. Ignasse was my cousin and a man of the Fury, and I will honour him by completing his legacy. Or so I once believed. Perhaps it is indeed beyond me…” She looked at Myste. “Is this child a friend of yours? The way he stares at me is somewhat…”
Well… anyone might have family who loved them. Even deluded, power-hungry totalitarian supporters. Or maybe Ignasse hadn’t been so bad, just dumb, she hadn’t heard much about him before. She couldn’t condone ignoring the truth, and Millie was lucky she hadn’t dissed Achiyo. “He’s… a recent acquaintance. Myste?”
“I can help her. Yes, yes… I will make it right. I have the power,” Myste mumbled to himself, then spoke clearly to Millie. “Do you wish to see your cousin again?”
She looked rightfully bewildered. “I… Well, yes, I would love to see Ignasse again. More than anything. But I know I will not. He walks in Halone’s halls, I am certain.”
Myste stood before her, looking up solemnly into her face. “Think of him. Think of his face, of his smile. Of his laugh. Remember every moment you shared, every memory, and hold that image of him in your mind’s eye… And then go to a quiet place you shared where no one will come. Wait for me there.”
Millie looked at him, then the others, uncertainly. “I really don’t understand what this is all about, but… since you seem so earnest, I will trust in you and do as you ask… There is a garden to the south of the Tribunal of which we were both fond. I pray you will explain all to me when this is finished.” She turned and walked away.
“I guess I’ll go with her,” Vivienne said. “Make it easier for you lot to find me.”
“That will be ideal,” Myste said. “We shall be with you soon.”
Millie fidgeted and paced about the garden, while Vivienne leaned against a wall and watched her. “I think of Ignasse every day, but what is this meant to accomplish?” She looked up. “Ah, your friends have arrived-!”
She clapped both hands to her mouth and reeled away, then flung herself forward into the arms of a tall, light-haired man with a mustache, who was wearing a large cloak over his distinctive white and blue armour. “No… It cannot be! Ignasse! Is it really you!? Oh, praise Halone! You’re alive! You’re alive!”
The knight held her tightly, then pulled back to look at her. “My dear cousin, how it warms my heart to see you in good health. I pray you will forgive me for my lengthy absence…”
Vivienne almost went for her sword. She hadn’t been so closely involved with the Heavens’ Ward as some of the other Warriors of Light, but she still hated their armour. But he clearly did not know or care who she was, his eyes only on Millie, so surely this would not come to a fight.
“Don’t be foolish!” Millie cried. “There is only joy to see you returned! Come, we must go to your father and mother at once! How they will weep at the sight of you-”
Ignasse shook his head. “I cannot. Better for them to mourn me as the son who gave his life in service to his archbishop and his home. I have heard that you yet labour to see the statue of Saint Valeroyant restored. Know that I am grateful beyond measure.” Vivienne didn’t get the fuss. Let the government restore the statue and spend time helping people, she would have said. Ahh, religion.
Millie looked down. “I… I am undeserving of your praise, cousin. For all my efforts, the statue remains a shattered ruin…” She raised her head to meet his gaze again. “But seeing you here, so full of light and life, fills me with renewed conviction. I will see it through, I swear to you. And… if you have indeed done the things they say… then perhaps it will earn you a measure of forgiveness…”
He kissed her forehead. “I love you, cousin. Now and ever after. Look after my parents… and yourself.”
Millie let go of him, and turned to Myste. “I don’t know how you did it, but thank you for bringing him back to me. But you must know he is not safe here. I pray you help him to flee the city.”
Vivienne frowned at Myste. “She’s right. Ishgard is no place for a man of the Heavens’ Ward. We’ll sneak him out of the city.”
“And then we have much to discuss…” Sidurgu rumbled.
Millie clasped her hands fervently. “I will never forget this kindness. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”
Under the flimsy cover of the heavy cloak covering the distinctive armour, and by Vivienne going on ahead to make sure no Temple Knights were in their path, the group made it to the chocobo stables, from whence they could mount and fly to Falcon’s Nest. Through the village, Myste urged them, and out into the snowy plain. Night was coming on.
“We should hurry,” Myste said as they marched down the road into the wilderness. “The further he goes from Millie, the weaker he will become. I pray we are not too late…”
“What are we hurrying for?” Vivienne said. “Where are we going? What is the plan?”
Even as she asked, Ignasse staggered, looking down at his hands… which dissolved into black aether – his feet, his limbs, his body all vanished in a swirling pool of darkness. A light like a flame flickered feebly within it. The cloak fell through it to the ground.
Sidurgu grunted. “Godsdammit. I should have known.”
“I… I don’t understand,” Rielle said, staring. “What happened to him?”
Myste wrung his hands. “Forgive me… Forgive me… I should have known the magick would not sustain itself much longer… That which you see before you is Ignasse. What remains of him… I can give the memories form. I can breathe them full of life and return them to their loved ones. But as the memory fades, so too does the magick… Aether, formless and free. That which I took I used to make Ignasse… and Millie… whole.” He turned to Vivienne. “Draw your sword. Reclaim that which was lost. Consume the abyss with Souleater.”
She sighed, drew her sword, and executed the manoeuvre that would normally drain an enemy’s life force into her. Cronus sucked up the aether thirstily, and she felt… stronger. But… still not as she used to.
Sidurgu nodded in satisfaction. “Good. I’ve had enough of this farce. Conjuring a simulacrum of a bloody knight of the Heavens’ Ward in the middle of Ishgard!? Fury take me, you are a fool. We’re lucky to be alive… Your soul crystal is restored, then?” he asked Vivienne.
She was already checking, but it still didn’t feel right; she’d be surprised if it was. And when she held it up, it had begun to grow back, but it was still far from whole.
“…Or not,” Sidurgu muttered, and rounded on Myste again. “We had an agreement, boy! You were to return that which you stole!”
Myste cringed pitifully. “Forgive me, forgive me… I returned to you that which was used to give Ignasse life, but as for the remainder… Four more times. It is within my power to do this four more times. Four more times, and you shall be made whole. You have my word.”
Vivienne regarded her soul crystal thoughtfully. That felt about right, indeed. Did she want to let him? She was not in the habit of letting people use her without asking first.
“For a boy with such an incredible power, you are remarkably helpless,” Sidurgu lectured him gruffly. “Not only did you rob Vivienne of her aether, you imposed upon her to find your ‘people in need’. You want to do good? You want to be a hero? You want to help people? Then why weren’t you better prepared?”
Myste hung his head. “I… I will never be a hero. I only wanted to help… It is not death itself we fear, but the unfinished story. The promise of what could have been. It is enough to break a heart… and a woman.” He looked significantly at Vivienne. “The shattered pieces of a life will never come together again. But, if a glimpse of their loved ones grants them the peace they deserve, then I must… I must…”
Sidurgu also looked at her. “It’s your decision, Vivienne.”
Did she deserve peace? Was there anyone he could show her that would bring it to her? Was that an option? No, it probably wasn’t.
And he was underestimating people. Life moved on, no matter how fractured and tortured. She was still alive, wasn’t she? But if he could help…
Her fingers closed around her soul crystal. “Of course it’s my bloody decision. It’s my soul crystal. And as such, I’m not about to let him out of my sight.”
“Then… then you will continue to accompany me?” Myste said, his whole face relaxing for the first time. Maybe even a little smile. “That is… a relief.”
“We’re not going anywhere, Myste,” Rielle said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Not Vivienne, or even Sid. He may look and act like a chocobo’s arse, but he means well.”
Sidurgu folded his arms and turned away, throwing a fine pout. “Fine, fine! I’m only trying to put the fear of the gods into the little shite, but by all means, go ahead and undermine my authority! Anyway, I’d rather not freeze to death out here in the snow. Let’s return to Falcon’s Nest and discuss what to do next.”
“I knew you would understand,” Myste said to Vivienne happily. “How could you not?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled.
Rielle sighed and shook her head with a little smile. “For the most part, I’m happy to go along with Sid’s act, but every now and then I have to remind him not to be so grim and dark.” Sidurgu grunted.
They got a room at the inn and left the children there; if they went out to play or whatever, there wasn’t much trouble they could really get into here. Sidurgu and Vivienne went to the tavern to process it all over beer.
Sidurgu grumbled into his drink. “Just what I needed. Another child to look after. Am I a dark knight or a nursemaid? Even I know don’t know anymore…”
“Isn’t this one mine?” she said. “He’s got my aether. Except… I can’t exactly drag him off to Ala Mhigo…”
“Exactly.” Sidurgu gulped his drink and slammed the mug down. “Well, two can’t be much worse than one. Even if Rielle’s sympathetic to him, she’ll keep him in line. I hope.”
“I appreciate it,” she said. “I’ll owe you.” She had some nitpicky questions for the sad little kid. But tomorrow. When she could clearly pin down what her questions were.
He shrugged. “Times, they are ever changing, and perhaps we dark knights must change with them. Long-held truths are becoming lies, and villains heroes… though I should be glad if I never have to deal with another ‘hero’ again. No offense, of course.” He gave her a side-long look. “But you are the exception that proves the rule. The righteous are all too uncompromising, and woe betide the man who offends their delicate sensibilities. If anything, I say you are too accommodating, but it is your aether and soul crystal at sake.”
“Look, I’m not Achiyo,” she said. “She has delicate sensibilities and still accommodates everything and everyone. Anyway, it’s not forever.”
Sidurgu nodded. “Four times, he swears, but we shall hold him to it. Together.”
Achiyo looked around at the other contestants readying themselves for the tournament, and wondered that she knew so many of them. Ser Constaint had already come to say hello, and Bartholomew of the Sultansworn, and Mylla, the head of the Gladiator’s Guild, whom she had met in passing when she first came to Ul’dah. They all wished for the opportunity to face her. If it had not been a structured tournament, she was sure she would have been sparring with eager challengers for the next sennight straight.
“Ah, Lady Achiyo, a pleasure as always,” said an Ishgardian accent, and she looked up to see Handeloup now approaching her.
“Ser Handeloup, I am glad to see you,” she answered. “How is your family?”
“They are very well, my little daughter is grown taller than ever.” They shook hands. “Are you perchance entering the tournament?”
“Somehow, I am,” she said. “You may thank Aymeric, Lucia, and Artoirel for persuading me. But I am only here as myself, not as part of House Fortemps or Ishgard.” She would not steal his thunder.
He smiled. “Well then, this has become infinitely more interesting. Lest you wonder, I am joining the field as a representative of the Temple Knights. For the honour of our order, I have every intention of winning. Do not hold back, my friend – because neither will I!”
“I look forward to it,” she said, smiling back.
She fought thrice that day; first against Bartholemew, then against a Roegadyn named Bronze Bull, and lastly against Handeloup himself. And this was… fun, it was a little strange to be in this noisy arena with roaring crowds occasionally chanting her name, but though she wasn’t holding back, she also did not feel pressed to her limit. It was friendly. Anything could happen, of course, and she nearly slipped up against the Roegadyn, but if she lost, she lost – she would not be fussed over it.
But she won all her bouts. Handeloup came to her after she defeated him, and shook her hand heartily. “Lady Achiyo, you were magnificent. Our match will remain etched in my memory and inspire me always.”
“Perhaps we may have a rematch in Ishgard sometime?” she said. “If you wish to do this again. I should be welcome at the Congregation as Aymeric’s fiancée, should I not?”
“Of course! And I thank you for the offer. Even were you not so closely connected to our dear Lord Commander, you should be very welcome.”
Very kind. “What will you do now?”
“Though my tournament may be over, I shall remain in Ul’dah, to watch the matches to come. And I believe I speak for all of us here when I wish you the best of luck. Our hopes go with you now, my friend.”
Right. She still had more battles to fight.
But not that day, nor the next. The next day she had the pleasure of watching Constaint make his stand in the arena; he won his first battle, against Franz the Fair, and then lost soundly to Mylla. But he did not seem ill-pleased by his results, and nor should he be, Achiyo thought. If she recalled correctly, he had only begun his training with the sword in earnest a couple years ago. Mylla was a seasoned professional.
The last match of the day was Mylla against the mysterious Black Lotus, a man who hid his face behind a rather wicked-looking mask. The duel was blistering, and Achiyo enjoyed it immensely even though Mylla lost. Was this how other people felt watching her?
The third day she went in for the final match against this Black Lotus, and she had just entered the ring when she heard the aetherially-amplified announcer stammering with disbelief. “L-ladies and gentlemen. It is my regret to inform you that Black Lotus has withdrawn from the match. In the absence of an opponent, the winner of the Ul Cup final is Achiyo Kensaki by default!”
Achiyo frowned up at the stands. That… was not right. That didn’t make sense. Why would the man enter if he did not want to see it through? It was not because of her, she was certain of it – every single other combatant had expressed enthusiastic desire to face against her, even if they had been knocked out of the running by someone else.
Well, there was nothing for it but to walk out again, with the discontented murmurs of the observers echoing through the Coliseum.
Mylla grabbed her in the waiting room, and told her of her own suspicions, and the two women split up to investigate. Achiyo found the Black Lotus – that was, Aldis, Mylla’s ex-lover – first. “Let me guess: the heartbroken maiden demands to know why I abandoned her at the arena,” he teased her.
She was not in the mood for that sort of banter, and he saw and quickly explained: a child he protected had been abducted to be held hostage, forcing him to withdraw so that dishonest bettors could profit from Achiyo being declared victor. Achiyo’s heart fairly stopped – the gruff mercenary and the orphan child, it was just the same. Percival would have endured any indignity for her, and so too, it seemed, would Aldis for his boy.
Mylla came storming up just as he finished. “I knew it was you. From the moment we fought.”
Aldis gave her a cheery wave. “Mylla, my dear! You are as ravishing as ever!”
Mylla looked like she’d rather punch him. “Spare me! All this time and you couldn’t bestir yourself to send a single godsdamned letter!”
“Easy on the anger, now,” Aldis said, grinning madly. “‘Twould be a right shame to line that beautiful face with wrinkles.”
“Th-that’s neither here nor there!” Mylla cried, flustered, blushing, and no less furious. “Now, tell me why you have returned!”
Aldis told her, then turned to Achiyo. “Someone wants you to win, Achiyo. At all costs. While I do not disagree with their choice of champion, their methods don’t sit well with me.”
“It’s quite insulting,” Achiyo agreed, ignoring the familiarity of his address. “But about your boy.” Who cared about the tournament now?
“A-a child?” Mylla was mumbling to herself, still processing that bit. “When the hells did he…?”
“Aye, the danger hasn’t passed,” Aldis said. “Though I did as I was told, they haven’t kept their part of the bargain. I mean to mount a rescue, and for this I could use your help.”
“With pleasure,” Achiyo said grimly.
The trail led them out past the Sultantree east of the city, to where a group of scruffy thugs were hanging out. Behind them a boy sat on the ground, bound hand and foot. It was not a dreadfully difficult battle, and the child kept his head down and out of danger. When the fighting was done, Aldis went to cut his boy free. “You all right there, Walden?”
The kid threw himself at Aldis. “Uncle Aldy, I-I’m so sorry! If only I was stronger…”
Aldis chuckled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “That’s nothing a little training won’t fix. By the way, you should thank Achiyo and Mylla too.”
The boy jumped up and ran over to Achiyo, bobbing a quick bow. “Oh, right! Thanks for saving me, Achiyo, and Mylla! You’re really nice. Oh, and you’re really strong as well! I’m gonna train hard so I can be strong too and look after myself!”
Achiyo knelt in front of him. “I wish you all success. Once, I was just like you – all alone but for my guardian, who taught me to fight, just like you and Aldis.”
Aldis nodded, putting his hand on the boy’s head again. “Allow me to thank you also, my friend. Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Mylla was gawping again. “Wait, did that boy just call you Uncle?”
Aldis chuckled again. “Aye, well, I’m a little too far gone to be his playmate. What of it?” He stopped and did a double-take. “Wait a minute – don’t tell me you assumed he was… you know?” He threw his head back to laugh. “Ahahaha! That certainly explains your black mood! To prevent further misunderstanding, he isn’t mine. I chanced to help him and we became fast friends, is all.”
Mylla stared, stunned, descending into pebble-toeing awkwardness. “Oh. Oh! W-well, it’s not like I cared or anything. It’s just… given how long you were gone, I wouldn’t have been surprised… is all.” She covered up her discombobulation with a fierce scowl.
“Tsundere,” Achiyo murmured to herself in amusement.
Aldis howled with laughter. “Ahahaha! It takes a lot longer than that to grow ’em this big!”
Mylla punched him in the shoulder. “Th-this is nothing to laugh about!”
“Ahhh, but it is!” Aldis restrained his guffaws and giggles, then sighed. “At any rate, all’s well that ends well. It’s just a pity the dream match between me and Achiyo could not be…”
“That, you can leave to me,” Mylla said, smirking.
And indeed, on the next day, Aldis’s secret was revealed to the world, and his decade-long disgrace was overturned by unanimous agreement. Achiyo smiled as she saluted him in the arena; he was grinning like a loon. But she wouldn’t lose. Paradoxically, she actually might not have cared so much at an earlier level, but to take second place here – she wanted to bring this victory to Artoirel and Aymeric and Lucia, after they had encouraged her to enter. And Chuchupa would never let her hear the end of it if she lost.
He was quite good, indeed. Perhaps in technique as good as Aymeric, though she would say he did not have Aymeric’s aetherial strength. But a technical duel was always fun, and she parried and slashed and spun, sliding her way past Aldis’s defences with a flick of her wrist. There was a great pleasure in being good at something, and indulging in it for fun with someone who was also good. This was the feeling that Zenos had desperately grasped at, and had never understood. But she did not want to think of him and ruin this moment. She needed all her concentration for Aldis, who after all really wanted to win too. The sands were scuffed beneath their feet, dust puffing from every step. He treated her to a finicky little jab that nearly lost her her blade like Mylla had lost hers two days before.
And before he could strike again, she slid inside his defence and laid her sword against his shoulder; if it had been a real fight, he would have been dead. He froze, then stepped back and bowed with a grin.
When Nanamo offered Achiyo, as her prize, any wish within her power to grant, Achiyo looked at Aldis. He was not a bad man. Just irresponsible. And with a large ego. Not that she said any of that aloud.
So Nanamo pardoned him of his past crimes before all. Aldis accepted, declared his intention to continue traveling and training, stole a kiss from Mylla, and fled the Coliseum before she could recover.