Can I say I’m disappointed that in Drowned City of Skalla, you no longer get to turn into fluffy ghosts to cross the chasms?
Still throwing class quests at the characters before they get back on MSQ’s Wild Ride.
Chapter 66: Ishgardian Intermission
Chapter 67: Salt and Suffering
R’nyath looked around in wonder, flicking salt-water from his tail. Finally his gossiping in every tavern in the city, under the not-actually-a-pretext that he was a bard and wanted to hear new tales – because that was totally true too – had paid off, and brought enough indirect clues about treasure to point them to the ancient city of Skalla. Which was mostly figured out by Alphinaud, of course.
Alphinaud was actually quite excited to be involved in something less realm-shaking for once. “The news of Doma and Ala Mhigo’s liberation has kindled the flames of revolution in every corner of the Empire. I hear the province of Dalmasca has already risen up in rebellion… Which means the Garleans must surely have their hands full. What better time than now to indulge in this treasure hunt?”
Upon Alphinaud’s deduction of the general location of the secret vault, R’nyath, Vivienne, Chuchupa, and Aentfryn had gone swimming in the salty lochs exploring the eerie drowned crystal-crusted city, until they found a weird passageway that meandered underneath the mass of the land city. Eventually the tunnel opened upward and outward to dump them into a cavern that shimmered with a soft aetherial glow. There were massive crystals here too, but they looked less like salt and more like quartz; it was quite beautiful. Not too far in they encountered carven pillars and walls. Who was into history in the Scions? Urianger? He’d probably like to come visit. Alphinaud and Arenvald, who had been scouting the palace for magical secret doors instead of regular-but-underwater secret doors like the rest of the treasure-hunters, had been teleported to roughly their location a few minutes later.
There were monsters about, either creatures that thrived in the brine, or spirits of mud and stone. Nothing they couldn’t handle, and R’nyath had plenty of time between shooting things with arrows to look around at the stone ruins that now surrounded them. Parts of it looked like it had collapsed, either revealing deep chasms beside the main road, or blocking side passages. He squinted up whenever he heard the trickle of dust and pebbles falling; it would be kind of unfortunate if it randomly decided to give way in the near future. But it hadn’t fallen in even with all these stone-based monsters about, so… it was probably fine? Fingers crossed and Twelve willing and the creek don’t rise, as one of his aunts liked to say?
He spoke too soon – they’d just fought some giant construct when he felt the ground shifting beneath his feet. “Whoa- stay back-!”
“R’nyath!” cried Arenvald, jumping forward, and then everything crumbled.
Well, the floor beneath R’nyath crumbled. He felt a series of impacts as he fell, landing solidly on his stomach on something hard and metallic that went ‘oof’. Bricks and small stones were falling all around him, and he tried to hold still until the noise stopped.
“Ye still alive down there?” Chuchupa called from above, with an actual note of concern.
“Y-yeah… maybe?” R’nyath answered shakily, shaking dust from his ears. He heard coughing from beneath him and looked up into Arenvald’s square-jawed, handsome, dust-smudged face. “Uh. Hi.”
“H-hi,” Arenvald said. “I didn’t crush you, did I?”
“Nope, not at all,” R’nyath said, automatically going into flirt mode from lying on Arenvald’s breastplate. “You saved me, handsome.” He propped his chin on his hands, kicked his feet, and gave him a wink.
Arenvald turned crimson and pushed him off. “Uh! Okay! Good! That was what I was trying to do!”
Too strong? Probably. “Sorry, didn’t mean to embarrass you…”
“S-sorry, I’m just… It’s… It’s nothing! Um! Alphinaud?”
“We’re still here,” Alphinaud said, appearing at the edge of the hole that had appeared in the upper floor. “You did not fall too far. Shall we pull you out?”
R’nyath looked around. This was definitely some kind of mysterious hidden chamber. “I think this is where we want to go, actually. C’mon down.” Though… how did Theodric normally get down here?
“Three two one catch!” Chuchupa cried, and threw herself in. Arenvald barely managed to snag her before she hit the ground. Aentfryn, perhaps the most sensible and certainly the heaviest of the group, tied a rope to the remains of the construct and the others made it down a bit less dramatically.
“Yes, this is promising,” Alphinaud said when he had his feet firmly on the solid stone floor. “Let us see what truth there is to the legends!”
There was a horrifying amount of truth to the legends; in the chambers beyond there were valuable relics, yes, but it was harder to notice them than the prison cells, the roughly-hewn mausoleum burial niches, and the strange furry spirit-like blob creatures that guarded it all. Alphinaud did not much like that part either, and R’nyath wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that each creature, when ‘slain’, turned back into a Hyur cursing Theodric with their last breath before vanishing into the air.
They came to another elaborate door, behind which was… piles of gold. And a monster. A very fierce monster. But with the six of them, it didn’t last long.
And then they were free to explore the vault. There was a portrait of a crazy-looking grumpy man on one wall. Theodoric, R’nyath assumed. “Oi, Chuchupa, we’re supposed to save this for Ala Mhigo’s economic recovery.”
“But-! But-!” The Lalafell was truly distressed, her hands full of jewellery. “Me boat! The only reason I came on this trip was cuz I was gonna get the last bit I needed for me boat! C’mon, ye won’t miss a bauble or two!”
“Chuchupa,” Alphinaud said sternly. “You will soon earn what you need for your boat from being a hero, just as you have all along.”
Chuchupa glared. “Yeah, Mr. Fancy-pants Old Money. I bet anything I do fer Ala Mhigo, they pay me outta this lot anyway! Let me have a bit now and I’ll work fer Ala Mhigo fer free, pirate promise!”
“Sorry, ‘pirate promise’?” Alphinaud asked.
“Pirates are aware they have a reputation for being untrustworthy, while believing everyone else to be largely hypocrites,” Aentfryn said from over where he was carefully examining a pile of scrolls. “She is saying she actually stakes her honour on this.”
“Aye, aye, ye gets it!” Chuchupa said. “Just lemme have a little bit, Alphinaud – ye won’t miss it, and me ship will be done all the faster. An’ there’s a good chance I’ll put ‘er at yer service after.”
Alphinaud sighed, wavering – Chuchupa had actually used his name and not ‘Alphie’ – but still holding fast to his principals. “Well… How much exactly do you need to complete your commission? Perhaps I can assist…”
Vivienne moved away from the treasure. “I’ll be sticking to the original agreement, if anyone’s wondering. No greedy Duskwights here, godsdammit.”
“Bugger ye! Just ’cause I’m a Lalafell-”
“I didn’t say a thing about Lalafells! My people have their own reputation!”
R’nyath moved over to Arenvald, away from the bickering. “Sorry about earlier. I do appreciate you saving me.”
“No, no, it’s… You’re welcome, and I’m really glad I managed to soften the fall, it’s just… I’m not gay.”
That blush had said otherwise, which had been new information for R’nyath. He couldn’t help his tail curling in a disbelieving question-mark. But he wouldn’t gainsay the assertion, that would be rude and not really his business. “No problem.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay,” Arenvald said hastily, turning away to poke a chest full of sparkling gems. “Just that I’m not.”
“Sure. …Bi, then?”
“No!” Arenvald was turning red again.
“I mean, I am, I’m sure you noticed…”
“Well, I’m not! Please, can we just enjoy the fact that we found the treasure?”
“We sure did,” R’nyath said, allowing the subject to change. He didn’t want Arenvald to have an uncomfortable memory hanging over his moment of triumph. He’d be more careful with idle flirting around him. “And it’s spectacular! And we proved all the stories! All thanks to you!”
Arenvald slowly relaxed. “Yeah. It’s hard to believe, but… this is legendary. What we did. I can’t wait to see the look on Lyse’s face when she sees it!”
“Haha! She’ll be completely dumbfounded! Man, look how heavy that vase looks. I don’t think I could pick it up.”
“Hmm, let’s see.” Arenvald braced himself and heaved. “Hnng! I… can technically… lift it!”
“You’re not carrying that anywhere,” Vivienne said, coming up behind them. “That’s a job for a wheelbarrow. It’s a ridiculous object, anyway – you set it up in your house and then what? It just sits there? Taking up space? Breaking toes that come in contact with it?”
“Sounds like you,” R’nyath said cheekily, and ran as she swiped at him.
Vivienne crumpled the note carelessly and walked out of the tavern of Falcon’s Nest. Sidurgu had taken the children out to Tailfeather, ‘to keep the brat away from Ishgard in case he decides to pull another dangerous stunt like the last one’. As if Teleporting from Ala Mhigo wasn’t tiring enough… but it was fine. She’d manage.
Sidurgu was waiting for her by the Tailfeather aetheryte. “Oh, thank the gods, an adult.”
“That bad?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Rielle has been spending a lot of time with Myste – keeping him company and getting to know him and so forth.” He pointed over at the two children sitting on straw bales nearby, talking quietly. Rielle saw Vivienne and waved. Myste got up and began to approach them; Rielle followed. “Not that there’s much to know. He won’t talk about his home or his past. Doesn’t seem to have any interests or skills beyond conjuring elaborate illusions derived from memories.”
“Sounds horrifically dull,” Vivienne said. “Or traumatized. Could be traumatized, based on how he apologizes for everything.”
Sidurgu leaned in to whisper as the children got closer. “I’ve no idea how he does it, either… and, more importantly, I’m not even sure how we could ‘take back’ the aether he stole. We may have no choice but to agree to his terms. Unless you’re content to carry half a soul crystal.”
Rielle frowned at him as she came up, putting her hands on her hips. “I can hear you whispering, you know. Myste means well, and Vivienne and I are willing to help him. Why aren’t you?”
Sidurgu spread his hands defensively. “I didn’t say I wasn’t willing. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
Vivienne restrained an eyeroll. Obviously he was there for Rielle’s sake.
“We might have found someone suitable for Myste’s… ‘treatment’,” Rielle said to Vivienne. “In general, life here is not easy, but fulfilling all the same. That said, the hunters had no personal tales of profound tragedy to share… They did, however, tell me of an outsider recently brought here from Falcon’s Nest. A prisoner, actually… A woman named Lowdy. She’s to atone for her crimes through hard labour, but the proctor has been… zealous. He berates her constantly, and every day she bears fresh bruises.”
“Ah, Ishgardian justice,” Sidurgu sighed ironically. “I know it well…”
“So you haven’t actually seen her yet?” Vivienne asked.
“We only just learned of her this morning,” Rielle said. “You’d said you would only be gone a short while in Ala Mhigo, so we decided to wait for you. It is your soul crystal.”
“If this woman is performing various chores for the hunters, then it should not be hard to find her,” Sidurgu said.
“She’s lucky,” Rielle muttered. “At least she gets to see the sun…”
Vivienne led them through the hamlet, looking around for… prisoners. It didn’t take long before she heard a vicious smack, and her head whipped around to see some git in a fur coat, and a peasant girl with pink hair cowering before him. “Insolent child! You are not to speak unless spoken to! Is that clear!?”
The woman cringed, her voice flat. “Yes, my lord… Pray forgive me my impudence.”
“Do not play me for a fool!” seethed the man. “Your sins are beyond forgiveness! Ser Aymeric and his noble brethren may think you worthy of mercy, but I have seen your kind before. A swift death is more than you deserve!”
“Hmph,” Sidurgu said at her shoulder; they were looking between buildings to where their two targets stood in a small field beyond. “A swift death is more than that bastard deserves. I can’t imagine what she did to deserve that kind of treatment.”
“I can tell you,” Vivienne said. “She derailed the first attempt at a peace conference with the Dravanians. While first drugging me and some of my friends to ensure we would not interfere. She’s boldly committed crimes for her convictions… and nearly died for it already. She doesn’t need this cruelty.” She’d carried the woman out of the snow herself, after she’d been shot in Emmanellain’s panic.
“Seven hells,” Sidurgu said. “Well, that explains a lot… though if you of all people can find it in your heart to forsake bloody revenge – then it’s hard to look at this and call it justice.”
Myste spoke up. “Her crimes were born of desperation and despair for the husband she lost. Perhaps if the two of them were to meet again…”
Sidurgu glared at him. “Don’t be foolish. She knows he’s dead. You’ll only cause her pain.”
“Pain is all that is left to her, don’t you see?” Myste waved his arms passionately at Sidurgu, at Vivienne. He sounded on the verge of tears. “How they cry in the dark, how they mourn their dead… How it festers and spreads and corrupts them thoroughly… We have seen it, we have made it-”
“Fine, fine! Do what you will! Conjure her husband!” Sidurgu turned away and sighed. “But do not come crying to me when she curses you for your kindness…” He looked around at the outpost. “I’ll not give the hunters cause to turn their bows on us, either. Rielle, take Myste into the woods and hide. Vivienne and I will free the girl.”
Rielle nodded, grabbed Myste’s hand, and ran off.
“You mean, you will free the girl,” Vivienne said. “She’ll freak out if she sees me.”
Sidurgu nodded. “We cannot risk the commotion. I will take care of it.”
“Then I’ll be after this sodding canker and see if I can’t scare him into reforming his own ways. But if he doesn’t…”
Sidurgu grinned sardonically. “You’re giving him a last chance? ‘No one is truly outside Halone’s grace’, after all. He’ll just have to accept the consequences of his actions.”
“Bah! The very sight of you fills me with murderous rage. See to your duties!” The proctor went stomping away in the direction of the stream. “I must needs cleanse myself of these impure thoughts through communion with nature. Perhaps a spot of fishing is in order…”
Sidurgu and Vivienne looked at each other and stealthily split up.
The proctor did not head far out of camp to fish. Vivienne waited until he was good and settled, then stepped out of the undergrowth. “You there.”
“Hm? Who are you?” demanded the man. “Why do you disturb me?”
“A concerned adventurer who objects to your treatment of a criminal,” Vivienne intoned, imitating Aymeric’s lofty speech patterns with sarcastic solemnity.
“Hah!” rejoined the man, casting his rod again. “If only you knew her sins. She should have been thrown into Witchdrop. Alas, the Lord Speaker in his boundless wisdom and mercy demanded that we spare the woman’s life. But rest assured I will see that her every waking moment is filled with misery and scorn.”
He was not prepared for Vivienne to seize him by the throat and slam him backwards into the ground, kneeling over him, sneering in his face. “Wrong answer, scum. It’s your life that should be filled with misery and scorn. Who are you to gainsay the Lord Speaker’s intentions? A corrupt little worm who pleasures himself with what little power he has over the helpless!”
The man sputtered, but he managed to draw a knife, and Vivienne had to let go and back away in case he stuck it somewhere vital. “You presume to judge me!? A man of the church!? I will not be cowed by your threats! The Fury guide and protect me! The Fury guide and protect me!”
“You’re braver than you look,” Vivienne said, grinning, drawing her greatsword as the man lunged to pick up his thaumaturge’s staff. “Or dumber. Come then! Challenge Vivienne Urselmert! I was there when Nidhogg was slain – twice!”
That put some pause in him, but before she struck, he managed to recover and blasted her back with Thunder. Two other men ran up with brandished spears, drawn by his shouting. “We’re here for you, ser!”
She didn’t care. She’d had worse odds than this. Better trained odds, too. The two men didn’t last long against her blade or her spells. “A swift death is more than you deserve, isn’t it? Fortunately for you, I’m in a hurry.” The man’s thaumaturge spells battered against her aetherial shields, burning and freezing waves crashing over her. He’d hit her several times full on, torso, shoulder, head, and she just turned to him with a baleful glare.
He backed away, but he wasn’t running. He really was braver and dumber than he appeared. He still thought he could kill her? His spells were weak. She ducked another fire spell, that detonated on her shoulder, and she cursed at the pain, but another lunge, a slash, and it was over.
She looked at the bodies. They were irrelevant, but she couldn’t leave them to poison the stream. She grabbed them all by the leg and hauled them a short distance away into the undergrowth. The local wildlife would no doubt take care of the rest.
She caught up with the others under the shade of a caelumtree. They were clustered in a group, watching the pink-haired woman staring in disbelief at a Hyuran man in Ishgardian chainmail, who smiled warmly at her.
“It’s begun,” Sidurgu said grimly. “We can but watch and see what happens.”
“I’m… I’m not sure we should be here,” Rielle said anxiously.
Myste clasped his hands. “Look! We have brought them together! We have made her whole! How she smiles, how her eyes sparkle. How beautiful, this happiness…” Vivienne looked down at the boy. His eyes were sparkling far more.
The woman stepped forward until she could take the man’s hands, and he clasped them tightly. Then she began to speak, not quite to the man, but as if to herself. “Every night I dream of your face… I could’ve tried to stop you from going back to the front. Could’ve begged and screamed and cursed. But I didn’t. Because I knew you’d listen. And even if you’d forgive me for it one day, I never would. The arrow may have missed my heart, but I’ve been dead for a long time. All of this is just… just waiting… That’s what I’d tell you, Stace, if I could. And then… you’d say…”
The man pulled her into his embrace, and she clung to him, her head on his shoulder. His voice was a soothing murmur. “You can’t stay stuck in that moment, Lowdy. You’ve got to go on. You’ve got to forgive yourself. You’ve got to let me go.”
She looked up and took his face in her hands and kissed him gently. “But I won’t. I won’t. If I do, who’ll be left to remember the man you were? The soldier, the husband… I’m the only one who knows… and it’s my duty to hold on to that as long as I can…”
She let go of him and stepped away, speaking to the forest. “That’s what I’d tell him if he were here… but he’s not. He’ll never come home to me. So please… put an end to this… whatever this witchcraft is…”
Myste stepped out, shamefaced, and made a gesture; the man dissolved into aether. The woman turned to them, and her eyes fixed on Vivienne. “Vivienne Urselmert… Was this all your doing?”
“N-no, it was mine,” Myste said, before Vivienne could. At least the kid was taking responsibility, she appreciated that. “Forgive me… I thought that… I wanted only to… I was wrong. I see that now. You have every right to be upset.” He bowed his head.
But the woman only smiled gently at him. She was very different from the defiant firebrand who had decried the dragons and nobles alike a year and a half ago. “It’s all right, boy. It is. I appreciate your kindness, even if it was misguided. You too, Mistress Vivienne. I blamed you for a lot of things. Hated you so much, because… because… I don’t know. Because you came back, and Stace didn’t, maybe. Because you weren’t him. They say the war’s over now, but it never ends for people like you, does it?”
Vivienne looked away. “…Everything ends.” War, peace, pain, joy… life…
Lowdy shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not… But that’s up to us, isn’t it? Whether we carry it or don’t. And something tells me you’re not finished with it yet. I know what you are.” Her look turned wistful. “I heard the stories as a child. Of the ones with neither shield nor sigil. Champions of the weak and the helpless, undeterred by the law of man or god… I couldn’t stop you anymore than I could’ve stopped Stace from walking out the door that day.” She stared hard at Vivienne and clenched her fists. “So… fight, damn you. Fight, if that’s what you want. Just… don’t squander the time in between. There’s never enough…”
Vivienne nodded. “I know.” It was something she struggled with. Something stirred inside her. Fray was restless. “For what it’s worth, that horrible little man won’t bother you again. I’ll talk to Aymeric and get you a new proctor who takes his job seriously.”
“It really doesn’t matter,” Lowdy said. “But thanks.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, glancing briefly at the flickering cloud of aether. “Right. I suppose I owe it to him to try and make the most of what I’ve got left too. So I will. Take care… and thank you.” She bowed and headed back towards the hamlet.
Sidurgu looked at Myste. Myste looked defeated, and spoke to Vivienne. “Forgive me, I was a fool. The abyss is yours, as it has always been. Consume it.”
“…The proctor’s punishments were nothing compared to her own guilt,” Rielle said as Vivienne restored her aether.
Myste hugged himself. “Forgive me… forgive me… In the end, I could not make her whole. So much pain, so much loss… how it fills my heart and overflows… Maybe it is indeed beyond us. Maybe it is not in our nature.”
Vivienne gave him a sharp look. ‘We‘? She’d been wondering where this kid and his power came from, and why he felt so connected to her. Don’t tell her this was another fractured aspect of her soul come to life to beat her over the head with the feelings she did not want to listen to. Fray was bad enough. The world was full of pain, pain she couldn’t stop or take away, and it made her angry that it was there and she could do nothing about it, not really. A single person could as well heal all the sorrow in the world as easily as one ant build a mountain. But she carried on. Everyone did.
Sidurgu couldn’t know her thoughts, but he inadvertently agreed. “…You’ve still got three more chances, don’t you. There’s no need to be so bloody melodramatic. At least not out here. We should go back to Tailfeather.” He turned to lead the way.
Myste trailed after Vivienne, reaching out to hold her hand, then pulling back. “…Your words did more for her than my illusion. She is still a good person. And so are you. I pray you both remember…”
She wasn’t heartless, even to corporealized figments of her soul, and took his hesitating hand. It did seem to reassure him. He wasn’t a bad kid. Even if she found him and his solemnity and his endless apologizing annoying as hells.
After a moment, he began again. “She knew it was false… yet it still had power over her. Can there be truth in a lie… and perhaps salvation as well…?”
Vivienne shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. “There is comfort in lies. Even if we know they are lies. But the truth is better in the long run. That’s why I haven’t asked if you can show me my parents. Even though you’ve probably sensed that I want to.” You couldn’t make someone ‘whole’ with a quick chat even with the dearest person in your life. Who was the dearest person in her life? She wanted to say Alain… but though she would die for his safety and happiness, they lived very separate lives. Achiyo might be her closest friend… and perhaps talking with her, seeing her blossoming happiness, would help Vivienne with her own psyche. At least help more than seeing her parents, even if far more mundane.
But the pathway to being ‘whole’ was a long and arduous one, and probably never complete. There was no magic switch to grant mental health. These visions at best could temporarily restore conviction, confidence, sense of purpose… and she was not lacking in that.
“You have come to accept their absence,” Myste said solemnly. “You visit them faithfully, but you do not look for them to inspire you or guide your path. There are many who would be made happy by the visions I offer, but fewer who would find their resolve restored, their guiding stars lit again by them.”
“Some scars never heal,” Vivienne said. This was such a weird conversation for her. “My scars mean to me that I’m still alive, but that’s not true for everyone. You can’t just go trying to fix everyone in the same way. But you should keep trying to help, in any way that works. Not enough people do. So there’s no need to be depressed.”
Depressed or not, he seemed tired, and she took him to hand him over to Rielle, then met Sidurgu by the aetheryte. “On to the next, I’d say, but Myste looks to be in no state to continue. For how long, I can’t say.”
Sidurgu nodded in resignation. “Which means we’ll be staying here for a time. Taking in the fresh country air, me and my… little ones.” He sighed.
Vivienne chuckled. “Hey, it’s good for you too. I might not stay – I have other things to do. But keep me posted.”
“Are we clear, or must I repeat myself in simple terms?” bit out the Temple Knight in clipped, aristocratic words. “I expect very little from your lowborn riffraff. If you wish to serve Ishgard, then know your place… and keep well out of our way.” He turned on his heel and marched away.
“Bastard blue blood…” Hilda growled to herself. “He’d not wag his tongue like that if his boss was around!”
“You okay?” R’nyath inquired, trotting up – on official business, of course. He’d gone to say hello to Stephanivien and gotten volun-told to train the Watch in the use of firearms. He wondered how awkward it was going to be, working with his ex, but Steve really wouldn’t take any excuses. And hey, he was a good shot, and he had military experience from being in the God’s Quiver, and he wanted to think he was a good teacher, maybe he could be helpful. “What an arse. He clearly hasn’t seen you in action.”
Hilda shook her head with a faint smile. “And a fine day to you, R’nyath. I’m fine. You’ve still got those rose-tinted specs, no doubt. At any rate, the lads and lasses are well pleased to hear they’d be learnin’ at your feet.”
“Really?” R’nyath said, ears pricking up, then tripped, flustered, over his tongue. “I-I mean… Great! Happy to help. But do they really need it? You guys have been doing the Watch for ages.”
“Well… you’ll see,” Hilda said, and turned to Rostnsthal as he walked up. “And you must be Rostnsthal, eh? I’ll warn you right now: the Watch ain’t used to formal trainin’, and you’ll need to work ’em hard to make ’em so.”
“Work ’em hard, ye say?” said the Roegadyn with a leering grin at her sidekicks. “I do things the pirate way, lass. I’ll have ’em pissin’ blood and wailin’ for their mums by first bell.”
Eudestand and Symme looked a bit apprehensive, but Hilda laughed. “We’ll see about that! I don’t know about Limsa’s back alleys, but the Brume’s not a place what suffers wiltin’ daisies. What my lot lack in skill, they make up for in spirit!” Eudestand and Symme rallied and nodded enthusiastically.
Rostnsthal grinned wider. “Ha! I like a challenge! Now, tell me more about ‘ow this Watch of yers fits into Ishgard’s defences.”
“Well, we’re officially back in the arms of the Eorzean Alliance, ain’t we?” Hilda said briskly. “And seein’ as a good chunk of the Temple Knights have been marched out to Ala Mhigo, the streets are a bit thin on soldiers. That’s where the Watch comes in. We’ve been somethin’ of an independent operation till now, and we’ve done well enough, with Lucia passin’ on assignments, but now the Houses want to put us on the payroll.”
“Except I bet there’s certain nobles none too fond of the idea,” R’nyath guessed.
“Exactly right,” Hilda said, nodding at him. “So that’s why you two are here – to help us prove we’re worth the extra equipment and trainin’.”
“Aye, I’ve ‘eard enough,” Rostnsthal said. “Ye can’t properly protect folk what don’t recognize yer authority. Just do as ol’ Rostenstal says, an’ we’ll soon teach them bastards to respect ye. ‘Ere’s what we’re goin’ to do first. Gather a crew o’ yer finest lads an’ lasses, an’ slap a name on ’em – one what’ll get them naysayers to sit up an’ take notice.”
Hilda’s brow furrowed. “What, you mean an elite company like the Dragoons or the Heavens’ Ward? I reckon a good name might impress some of the highborn, but I’ll be buggered if I can think of one…”
“What about Hilda’s Hounds?” R’nyath suggested. Hilda had turned the Mongrel into a title of pride for herself, and if her loyal puppies had a name that matched, all the more fitting.
“Aye, ‘Ilda’s ‘Ounds,” Rostnsthal agreed.
“Hmm…” Hilda considered, then grinned. “Well, I do like the sound of that! What do you say, lads?”
“Yeah! Hilda’s Hounds!” cheered Eudestand and Symme.
Those two, Hilda’s closest lieutenants, were basically mandatory members of Hilda’s Hounds. So while Hilda went out to round up her Watch and pick the other best ones for this sub-unit, R’nyath grabbed ale from the Forgotten Knight and went to hang out with them. “So… is it weird, me being back?”
Symme scratched his close-shaved head. “Mebbe a little? You were surely gone long enough. It wasn’t just the break-up though, I bet… Scion adventures?”
“You could say that,” R’nyath said, and gave them a summary of his time in Ala Mhigo and the Far East. “I was worried things would be awkward, but… I guess it’s been long enough.” Sure, he still got flustered around her, and he had to try not to stare at her beauty and wit, and he couldn’t help thinking about all the times they’d shared kisses and beds, but also he’d come to accept that all that was over. She was still stunning, and he would just admire from afar. And they could still be friends, and hang out, and shoot things together.
“It’s been more’n a year,” Eudestand said reasonably, sipping his ale. “What, are you not over her?”
“She’s still hot,” R’nyath said defensively, tail flicking restlessly. “She’s still awesome, even if I’m not going to do or say anything about it.”
“She is,” Eudestand said, chuckling. “But you’re an alright bloke. We won’t hold it against you for admirin’ her.”
“If Hilda is cool with you, then we’re cool,” Symme said. “None of our business what’s between you two. And yeah, you’re an alright bloke.”
“Cheers, lads,” R’nyath said, and they clinked their bottles.
Hilda had asked R’nyath to accompany her to her next official meeting at the Congregation, a meeting with ‘the kind of bloke what has me itchin’ to shoot him in the teeth’, and R’nyath had no objections to tagging along. “If you see me glarin’ at Muscadain and reachin’ for my firearm, do your best to stop me, eh?”
“Is he the guy you were arguing with when I first got here?” R’nyath asked.
“That’s the one,” Hilda groaned.
“Sure, I can do that,” R’nyath said. “I mean, he’s kind of cute. Even if his ears are too long.”
Hilda gave him a very odd look at that, a very complicated odd look, but all she said was: “You’re not one to speak about long ears, hun.”
“Hey, I’m no Viera,” R’nyath mumbled as she pushed open the door. To be fair, he didn’t know if Viera were even real. But if they were, they’d definitely win all the ear-length competitions.
The cute – if very haughty and frowny-looking – knight was waiting for them, and frowned even more on seeing R’nyath trailing Hilda. “You… I was not inform-”
Hilda interrupted him brusquely. “R’nyath’s here as my advisor. I trust his advice a damn sight more than that of a certain empty-helmed, stiff-backed blue blood.” Aww! She trusted him!
Ser Muscadain’s frown did not lighten. “Hmph. I will not dispute his place at this meeting. In fact, I would be far less inclined to entrust this duty to a certain foul-mouthed, disrespectful commoner were she not accompanied by such an advisor.”
“Um… glad to be of service…?” R’nyath squeaked under the scrutiny, ears starting to fold back.
He was saved from further glaring by the door of the Congregation banging open and a junior knight rushing in, straight to Ser Muscadain. “My apologies for the interruption, Ser Muscadain! I bear urgent news…”
“Speak, then,” Muscadain said, with surprising calm.
“Ser! A thief has breached the Vault and stolen the sacred blade Hrunting!”
R’nyath looked at Hilda. “Hrunting’s the sword what’s used to dub new knights, or so they tell me,” she said to him quietly. The Hounds’ first official job was going to be overseeing security for the knighting ceremony, so that was pretty relevant. “But that place is crawlin’ with guards… Hard to imagine how someone even managed to get in there, let alone filch anything.”
“It is unthinkable!” For the first time, Muscadain looked rather shaken. “The treasury door is secured with seven different locks. Sentries stand vigilant night and day. None could approach without notice!”
“The sentries claim they were struck senseless…” said the junior knight. “They later awoke to find the door to the treasury hanging open, but of all the valuables secreted within only the blade was missing. By all accounts, the entire incident took place over the span of a few short minutes. This burglar obviously had a plan and was very precise in its execution.”
Muscadain’s frown was back in full force, and he was thinking hard. “…And you say that only Hrunting was taken? The loss of such a prominent symbol right before the ceremony bodes ill for Ser Aymeric’s reputation. The Lord Commander cannot afford to have his authority eroded at this delicate stage, lest Ishgard once more fall prey to infighting and insurrection. We must reclaim the blade ere its disappearance becomes common knowledge. Bah, I have not the time nor the knights to spare for this…”
Hilda stepped forward with a confident hand on her hip. “Well, my Hounds might be able to help you there. They’re the best the Watch has to offer, and I reckon they can keep their gobs shut.” When Muscadain blinked blankly at her, she went on. “Your ceremony’s our time to shine, so we’ve a vested interest in seein’ it go forward as planned. And there’s no harm in gettin’ on Ser Aymeric’s good side, neither. What say we look into it?”
Muscadain glanced at both of them. “Hmph. Do as you wish. With Master R’nyath’s assistance, mayhap even your mob of commoners will see some modicum of success. Now, if you will excuse me.” He gestured to the junior knight to follow him, and marched off.
“Prickly bastard,” Hilda grumbled. “You’d think he’d show a bit more bloody gratitude. Anyways, enough of that – we’ve a sword to find.”
Did he dare say his thoughts out loud? “He doesn’t seem that bad, even for a classist stuck-up noble. Really stiff. But also kinda young. Is he trying too hard because he’s young?” Now that he’d looked closer, the guy barely looked like he’d reached full height for an Elezen. He might easily tower over Hilda and R’nyath, but there was a gangliness about it that spoke of recent adolescence. And while there was no cause to be so rude to Hilda, there didn’t seem to be any real malice behind it either.
Hilda rolled her eyes in disgust. “Does it matter? He’s an arse, and the less I have to do with him the better. Come on.”
On the Hoplon, they were met by a Temple Knight. Not the one that Hilda was expecting to meet, but a knight approached them all the same. “Master R’nyath and Mistress Hilda. Ser Muscadain told me to expect you.”
Hilda looked surprised. “Huh, and I thought he’d no time to spare. So does this mean you’re to help or hinder us?”
The knight chuckled behind his helm. “Why, to help you, of course! Here. Material evidence from the scene. All seven locks on the treasury door were destroyed, and this scrap of metal was found lodged in one of the keyholes.” He dropped the small lump into Hilda’s open palm, and Hilda and R’nyath put their heads together over it.
“Hmmm. The impact’s crushed it all out of shape, but that looks like a bullet to me,” Hilda said. “Our culprit’s wieldin’ some sort of firearm.”
“You just found one, huh?” R’nyath said to the knight. “No others?” True, a lot of his own machinist ammunition was aetherially generated, and that meant aetherially dissolving after a while. But this bit felt pretty solid, and at least one of his guns only used pre-made real-lead bullets.
“A firearm, did you say!? Has there been yet another crime committed with one of those horrible inventions?” There was a querulous cry from nearby on the Hoplon, and they were approached by some noblewoman in a fancy dress. Her fox-red hair flowed around her shoulders, and she had vibrant red lipstick on. “By the gods, I can scarcely sleep at night for worry! I suspect this is all the fault of Ser Aymeric’s precious ‘revolution’.”
“Who might you be, miss?” Hilda asked politely. “And what did you mean by ‘another’ crime?”
The woman burst into unstoppable rambling, all directed at the Temple Knight, who stood there awkwardly. “Why, the tales I’ve heard at high tea this past week would curl your toes! They say a musket-wielding brigand now terrorizes the western highlands! Just when the threat of those dragon-loving heretics has finally ended, a new nightmare rises to take their place.” She shook a chiding finger at them. “And lest you think this is some noble lady’s fancy, even the traders come to supply the Crozier speak of shots echoing in the air near Hemlock. Dreadful. Simply dreadful.” She shook her head in theatrical woe. “I understand that our knights must honour their oath to aid foreign nations, but must it come at the cost of keeping order in Ishgard? Look at me, I’ve become positively flushed! I must retire to my chambers…” And just like that, she turned and swept off.
Hilda wrinkled her nose in her general direction. “Was she hard of hearin’ or summat? That slathered harpy didn’t so much as glance in my direction…”
The Temple Knight cleared his throat. “An unfortunate habit of the more ‘traditional’ highborn, I’m afraid. Such stubborn examples aside, however, your actions have taught many of our nobles the wisdom of heeding the common citizenry.”
Hilda shrugged. “Aye, I’ve not been ignored like that in a while… Well, thank you for the bullet, ser knight. Good day to you.”
At least Ser Muscadain looked at whoever he was talking to. The sort of stuck-up noble who felt it his bounden duty to extend the same manners to everyone he was talking to, even if he hated them. Well, actually, Aymeric and Achiyo had the same philosophy. Without being stuck-up.
“So where to next?” R’nyath asked. He would have sauntered, but Hilda was moving at a brisk stride and she was taller than him. “Want me to ask Steve about the bullet?”
“If you could,” she said, and dumped it into his hand. “It’s probably nothing, but I’m going to head out to Hemlock and see if Her Ladyship’s babbling is founded on anything. Leave the Hounds to keep training.”
“Sure. I’ll come join you when I’m done at the Manufactory and let you know what he said. And I’ll be back in time for evening drills, promise.”
“I know you will,” Hilda said. “See you in a bit, then!”
Achiyo had returned to Ala Mhigo to look in on Lyse – and perhaps to catch a glimpse of this treasure that Chuchupa had whispered to her cheekily about. There was none of that to be seen, but Lyse and Alphinaud were deep in discussion with Arenvald standing by when Achiyo arrived. They looked up with some surprise. “Achiyo! Are you not supposed to be taking your leave?” Alphinaud asked.
She smiled at him. “I have taken nearly a moon, have I not? I do not intend to instantly leap with both feet back into leading the Warriors of Light, but mayhap I can do some small errands for you while I am here.”
“I’m sure it will escalate soon enough,” Lyse said ruefully. “But certainly another pair of steady hands would be appreciated. Every day here is a madhouse.”
As if on cue, a man in Resistance uniform rushed up to her. “Commander! We’ve got a problem!”
“Deep breaths,” Lyse said. “Tell me what’s happened.” While the words still sounded copied from more experienced leaders, her tone was more confident and sure than Achiyo remembered.
“A mob’s gathered outside headquarters, and they’ve started making demands. You’d best come and see for yourself!”
Lyse shot Achiyo a look that said ‘see what I mean?’ and they all hurried after the soldier.
Some citizens had discovered where Fordola was imprisoned, and were demanding her blood. Raubahn managed to reason with them and disperse them before things escalated beyond control, but even he did not know what the long-term solution was going to be.
Arenvald wanted to see Fordola, and Lyse agreed, considering words of her own. Alphinaud asked leave to observe, and at that rate Achiyo might as well come too. To see the woman she had fought so many times, to hear what words she had without a sword in hand.
There was a gaol deep beneath the building, dark and cool, and here Lyse led them to a cell. Though torches flickered in the corridor, there were none in the cell itself, Achiyo saw as the guards unbarred the solid metal door and swung it open. Only a flicker of red hair could be seen in the shadows, as Fordola sat on her cot with her head bowed.
“Well, well, well… So many visitors. Come to have a good laugh, have you?” She raised her head with a funny little smile. “Or do you mean to put me out of my misery? To finish what you started? It’s about bloody time.”
“That’s not why we’re here, no,” Lyse said. “Do you remember what I said? How I promised you you’d live long enough to see us win our freedom? Well, I meant it. And not to mock you, either.”
Fordola let her head drop again and growled venomously. “You’re wasting your time. All of this is pointless! There’s no reason to keep me alive, and you know it! I killed your men – I killed my men! And you know what my only regret is? That I didn’t kill you when I had the chance!”
Arenvald jumped forward with fury in his eyes. “That’s a lie and you know it! You think we can’t tell what you’re trying to do? That we’re blind? You’re a fool, but you’re not stupid. You’re ruthless. Relentless. You’d give up anything and everything to get what you want. You didn’t come this far, climbing over the bodies of your own brothers and sisters, just to piss it all away! I see you, Fordola! I see you for what you are!”
Achiyo couldn’t help a little gasp as an Echo swept over her. An innocent child, a family who cooperated with the Empire to try to give a good life to their precious daughter, a murder in broad daylight. How Fordola had grown into a hard and angry woman, plagued by her ‘other-ness’, how her mother feared for her, how she swore oaths with her friends and companions…
Then she was back in the cell, as Arenvald stared down the red hair in the corner. “So, you mean to play the part one last time, eh?” he demanded. “The unrepentant traitor, whose death will serve to unite the people?”
“Shut up!” Fordola cried without raising her head, her entire body tense.
Arenvald stepped forward. “You had every chance to kill yourself. Fashion a noose from your clothes, wait for the guards to leave you alone long enough to slip it over your neck-”
Fordola sprang to her feet, blazing with rage. “I said shut up!”
“But then it would all have been for nothing, wouldn’t it?” Arenvald pressed relentlessly. “Whatever it takes. That’s what you said.”
Fordola glared at him, her fists clenching and unclenching, then turned away, fixing on Achiyo instead with a sneer. “…Been in my head, have you? Had a little peek at my past? And what, a few stolen memories tell you everything you need to know, do they?” She turned back to Arenvald and screamed at him. “Don’t you dare patronize me! You don’t know a godsdamned thing about the life I’ve led! The bastards that killed him, the bastards that let it happen – my father deserved better! I swore I’d do whatever it took to make them pay!”
She reeled back, clutching her head as her Echo-imbued eye flashed. Achiyo wondered who she was seeing, and found her answer when Fordola looked up to stare at her in disbelief. Her voice shook, suddenly small and quavering. “You… y-you… All that power… all that pain… It’s too much… Too much for anyone! The things they’ve done to you. The losses, the lies, the betrayal, the endless fighting… yet there you stand, unbroken. How…? Why…?”
Achiyo closed her eyes. There had been great pain in her life, it was true; if it was too much for one person, she could not say. Though if she was unbroken it was only because those she had come to love had healed her. But she had nearly never lacked for support. Rare were the moments in her life when she truly felt unloved and unwanted, even as an outcast in Hingashi or Doma, and that had kept her steadfast on her path to help others. And now she was surrounded by those whom she loved, and their love inspired her through all her trials.
She could understand Fordola’s choices, but they would not have been hers.
The words took a moment to come, the old catchphrase, but they seemed the most fitting answer she could give. “For those I have lost. For those I can yet save…”
Fordola turned away, drowning in pathos. “Damn you… Damn you all…”
After a pause, Lyse spoke. “You still have time, Fordola. Think about how you want to spend it.” She turned to the Scions. “Let’s go.”
Arenvald lingered a moment, though Fordola stood motionless, before he followed.