The poem Achiyo recites part of is (called in this English translation) “Looking at the Moon and Thinking of One Far Away” by Zhang Jiuling, which I found on this page.
Yllamse’s player (also named Yllamse) was recently really inspired by my personal FFXIV world, and is writing a fic about her character in my world?! This feels like fanfic for me teehee. It’s pretty helpful for me in writing her character, too!
I still feel kinda bad for the time I was in voice chat with some FC members and 4.1 had just dropped and I was grumbling about, idk, crafting or something and one of the other members was getting sniffly over Nanamo and Raubahn saying goodbye. I didn’t realize she was at the emotional part or I would have shut up. D:
Chapter 67: Salt and Suffering
Chapter 68: Raubahn’s Return
“And this is my new boyfriend, Oremont,” R’lhifre said, gesturing at the gangly, awkward-looking light-pink-haired Elezen trailing behind her. Either he was short for an Elezen, or he hadn’t finished his growth spurt yet – he was just taller than R’mon Nunh. Probably about the same age as R’lhifre. “He’ll be staying for dinner.”
R’nyath sniffed suspiciously. “You dyed your hair.”
The Elezen rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… yeah.”
“Were you applying to get into the Homunculi or something?” his closest sister R’limhe said, as ready as any to jump in on hazing the new guy.
Oremont brightened up. “Well, yes, actually! How did you know?”
The front yard where R’nyath’s available family was hanging out erupted in discussion, with half saying things like “Lhifre, I thought you had better taste than that!” and the other half saying “One bard in the family is plenty!” with sarcastic looks at R’nyath.
R’nyath himself sprang to his baby sister’s defence. “Hey, c’mon, nothing wrong with bards! Even if I’m not the sort to dye my hair to be more popular…” Bards knew a lot. R’nyath had been picking Jehantel’s brain over twenty-year-old incidents, way more interesting than digging into written records.
Honestly, R’lhifre had always liked tall fellows, and even a reject Homunculus was pretty cute. R’nyath looked forward to getting to know him… if he ended up sticking around.
“Shut up, everyone!” R’lhifre yelled. “Bard or not, he’s a nice boy and you’re going to be nice to him, got it?”
“Ugh, fine,” R’limhe said.
R’mon chuckled. “Ah, kids. Don’t mind them, Master Oremont, and welcome.”
“Hope you last longer than the last guy,” R’inwa muttered from where he was sitting on the fence, and R’zefu, his mother, gave him a swat that knocked him off.
“Honestly, it’s like the presence of paramours renders you all devoid of manners,” she said to the younger generation in general. “Master Oremont, I do hope Lhifre warned you what it was going to be like. Would you like a drink?”
“Er, yes please,” Oremont said. “She mentioned she had a lot of family… and that her brother was a Warrior of Light…” He shot a shy glance at R’nyath.
“Lhifre! I can’t believe you would name-drop me to get laid!” R’nyath teased her. “Good job!”
“Dummy!” R’lhifre shot back. “You think I would name-drop you? He just noticed we were both R-tribe and asked!”
“R-tribe best tribe,” R’inwa said laconically, picking himself up. “Anyway, Scion scuttlebutt says that R’nyath got massively topped in the Far East.”
“You- you brat!” R’nyath pounced on his brother, who fought back. Their impromptu wrestling was interrupted by R’limhe, who… joined R’inwa’s side. Faced with both his little brother and his next-oldest sister, R’nyath was rather quickly overwhelmed and sat on. “Hey- hey! My shirt’s getting dirty!”
“Should’ve thought of that before picking on your little brother,” R’limhe said, bouncing a little as she sat on him, squeezing the air out of his lungs. R’inwa sat on his legs and pulled his tail. R’lhifre watched with glee, Oremont with apprehensive interest.
“Wahhh, Maaaa, they’re being mean to me!” R’nyath whined. “Inwa’s bigger than me now, it’s not fair Limhe helps him too!”
“What, roughhousing is good for you,” R’zefu said without sympathy. “If I were younger I’d join in!”
R’nyath pouted ferociously, then paused as his linkpearl went off. “Hello?”
“Hello? Primal!” Lyse’s voice gasped in his ear through the Scion linkshell. “Primal in the Ala Mhigan throne room! It’s Lakshmi! Achiyo and Arenvald are here but we need every Warrior of Light who can get here!”
“Got it! I’m on my way!” R’nyath exclaimed, bouncing up, shedding R’limhe and R’inwa as they scrambled off him at his tone of voice. “Sorry guys, emergency, have a good dinner, bye!”
“Goodbye, good luck!” R’mon called as R’nyath Teleported to Ala Mhigo.
A short while ago, Achiyo had stepped into the throne room of Ala Mhigo, looking around now that she had the luxury of doing so. It was still scarred from her battle with Zenos – the cracked tiles and craters on the floor, the gouges on the walls from the shockwaves of their weapons. She did not know how to feel about it – not triumph, exactly, nor trauma… both, and yet mixed with pride and regret. She had faced down Zenos, the best swordsman in the world, and had begun to claim the upper hand before he’d changed the terms of the fight, and… well, on the other hand it would also take a lot of work to restore the throne room to its former state.
But Lyse didn’t seem all that concerned about it. She was more interested in the representatives who had come from across Ala Mhigo – including the Qalyana, unexpectedly – to determine together their path for their future. Achiyo herself had just returned from an informal meeting with Sultana Nanamo, who intended to invest in Ala Mhigo’s recovery… with Lolorito’s help. Alphinaud had subsequently volunteered to go over any contracts with a fine-toothed comb to ensure that Lolorito didn’t sneak anything shady in there.
Now Achiyo stood by Alphinaud, Arenvald, and Raubahn as observers, while Lyse welcomed the delegates with her easy-going warmth. “Thank you all for coming. I am Lyse Hext, and I speak for the Resistance. Among you are village elders, refugee leaders, envoys from the Ananta and the Qiqirn. You’ve come from every corner of Gyr Abania to help decide the future of Ala Mhigo. But before that, I want to ask you a question. What was the first thing you noticed when you came in?”
She looked toward the back of the room. “For me, it was that empty throne. It has no one to sit on it now. No viceroy. No king.” She turned back to the delegates and scanned their faces. “Would any of you like to take their place? Or should someone else sit there?”
After a pause, the delegates unanimously shook their heads, and there was a gentle chorus of ‘no’.
Lyse smiled. “Then let’s sit here, in a circle. As equals. And, I hope, as friends.”
“Expertly done,” Alphinaud murmured from the sidelines to Achiyo. “Lyse has removed monarchy as a choice early in the game, and positioned them to consider a joint government. All things considered, I would say events have got off to a fine start.”
“I think so too,” Achiyo said. “It will be something new – even more new than Ishgard’s republic.” Aymeric had had existing leadership that he had disassembled and reassembled into a new shape, adding to and building on. Lyse had no lords and nobles to draw on, not really; those had been demolished by the Garleans. Instead there were only small local leaders not accustomed to participating in national politics. But every nation was ultimately made of ordinary local people who felt themselves part of a larger whole, was it not?
And just as Lyse said, they all sat on the floor, even the older folks among them. Was that an Ala Mhigan thing? Achiyo wondered idly. She had not noticed a lack of chairs in Gyr Abania, but now that she thought about it, it did not seem as mandatory to use them as in the rest of Eorzea. In the Far East chairs were far less common than in the West, so she had not really paid it much mind for her own sake. The actual discussion was not very formal, either, but no one really seemed bothered by it. The delegate from the Vira Ananta had been asked to be secretary, to record proceedings, agreements and disagreements.
Lyse explained what her vision of Ala Mhigo’s republic might be, and then they all descended into animated discussion. Arenvald was soon bored, leaning on the wall and trying not to yawn, but Achiyo stayed standing, attentive. This was much more interesting than the Doman court had been, and she didn’t have to wear her hair up for it either.
“Next, let’s hear from Shanti of the Qalyana,” Lyse said, gesturing to the azure-clad Ananta. “Tell us, how do your people feel about the idea of a republic?”
The Ananta broodmother raised herself to standing, and slithered forward a little, to be in the centre of the circle. “The Ananta wish only that those who dwell within Gyr Abania devote themssselves to our faith… You shall all worship Sri Lakshmi!”
The smile dropped off Lyse’s face instantly. The other delegates looked around, confused; religion had not been part of the discussion in the least. Achiyo took a step forward, her hand on her sword, and immediately Arenvald and Raubahn were alert.
“Lady of Bliss!” cried the Qalyana broodmother, raising her hands around which aether swirled. “Grace usss once more with your beauteousss visage!”
Aether poured upwards from the decorative pools on either side of the throne, and with a bright flash there appeared that same heavenly being Achiyo had fought not two moons ago, her black hair streaming, clad in shimmering blue silk, framed in pink lotuses and gold. Everyone jumped to their feet in panic; Achiyo was running forward, Arenvald at her side.
“This can’t be happening!” Lyse gasped. “No crystals were allowed through the door!”
“We can worry about the how of it later!” Alphinaud called to her. “We need to evacuate these people right now, or the primal will make thralls of them all!” Raubahn swung his sword, cutting down the Qalyana doing the summoning. That would keep her from empowering the summoning ritual further, but Lakshmi was already there.
“It’s up to us,” Achiyo said to Arenvald. “Are you ready?”
“Y-yes!” he said, drawing his sword with her.
“I’ll call the others!” Lyse cried, even as she picked up a delegate who had tripped in fear. “Hello? Primal! Primal in the Ala Mhigan throne room!”
Achiyo had no space to see what the others were doing; Lakshmi was about to use Tempering fire on the entire chamber. Achiyo thrust her shield towards the goddess, projecting her spirit before her as wide as she could, and Arenvald copied her. The waves of blue flame broke over them, petering out just before it touched them.
From the back of the room she heard Raubahn shouting, and the clash of weapons. Tempered guards had trapped them. That was not her fight. “Stay with me, Arenvald,” she said as he looked to be distracted. “Raubahn is a master of the blade. He will be fine; it is up to us to fight this battle.” Though she glanced and Raubahn, Alphinaud, and Lyse were extremely outnumbered… but she needed Arenvald focused.
“Got it,” Arenvald said. “And we’ll have reinforcements soon. We just have to hold out.”
“She cannot be that strong,” Achiyo said. “There was not that much aether in her summoning. Fight hard and we may be able to end this without reinforcement.”
But Lakshmi was not interested in allowing them the chance to strike her, summoning more and more aether spheres; soon Achiyo and Arenvald were spending all their time rushing back and forth to intercept spheres before they could touch any of the cowering delegates. Raubahn, supported by Alphinaud and a couple of the hardier villagers, was fighting Tempered soldiers in the doorway but could not make it beyond despite his great strength. Where was Lyse?
“Damn it all!” Arenvald cried in desperate frustration. “It’s only a matter of time before we miss one!” And even as he said it, one slipped past his reaching grasp, going straight for Alphinaud-
A flash of red hair darted in front of the boy, and Fordola spread her arms to shield with her aether; the aether sphere fizzled against it.
“Her!?” Arenvald gasped.
“What of it?” Fordola snarled back at him. “Do you want to kill this thing or not?”
“Why?” Lakshmi moaned. “Why do you deny my blessing? You who deny me shall ressst in death!”
Fordola growled. “They brought you into this world over a mistake I made… and I’ll be damned if I let you taunt me with it!”
Faced with three warriors, Lakshmi seemed more inclined to attempt to kill them flat out. Blasts of gilded light smacked them, shimmering explosions of aether engulfed them. Achiyo tried to remember what she could of the first time they had fought, to guide Arenvald and Fordola who had not been there.
She glanced back as Raubahn roared, flames blasting the door as he made one of his legendary strikes. The Tempered soldiers were either slain or pushed back, but before any of the delegates could escape, Lakshmi vanished from before Achiyo’s blade and reappeared in the doorway, right before Raubahn. “You cannot flee my radiance. You will all be my dreamers.”
Raubahn flung up a defensive wave of fire as Achiyo sprinted to help him. He had presented himself as the biggest threat in the room; it was no wonder Lakshmi had turned her eyes to him. Achiyo had to redouble her efforts, and flung her shield past Raubahn, bouncing it off Lakshmi’s bosom. “Look at me, Goddess of Beauty! I am your slayer!”
Lakshmi smiled serenely and summoned a cloud of aether spheres around her.
“Arenvald!” Achiyo screamed, and he and Fordola jumped up beside her as Lyse and Alphinaud shoved the delegates back and away. “I will go to the right, keep them safe!”
“Got it!” Arenvald answered her, seeing her strategy. Achiyo saw Lakshmi’s gaze flickering between her and the nearly-helpless civilians behind her, and swung harder, spinning to give her sword greater speed, her slashes rending at Lakshmi’s aether. Then she backed away, and Lakshmi followed her blindly, intent on blasting her with more shining light.
The light she could weather. Fordola and Arenvald were dashing back and forth, picking off the aether spheres. Alphinaud was cautiously helping one civilian at a time to the exit, and one by one they were escaping. “Quickly now, while the primal is distracted!”
But this was yet a holding action. They could not kill Lakshmi like this. She needed…
Lyse jumped forward to attack. “Lyse! Stay back!”
“I can’t. I can’t run away from this!” Lyse exclaimed, and followed it up with a flurry of kicks.
“We’ll stand and fight together!” Raubahn growled, following her. The civilians and Alphinaud were gone, at least.
“Only until the Warriors of Light arrive!” Achiyo cried. She was grateful for the aid, but her friends were so vulnerable. Think, what would Kekeniro do? “Fordola, protect Lyse from the aether! Arenvald, cover Raubahn!”
“Aye!” Arenvald acknowledged. Fordola grunted and moved to shadow Lyse.
Lakshmi swept out her hand, and a wave of energy knocked them back; Fordola hit the wall and bounced painfully. “Pitiful, misssguided children. Lay down your weapons, lay down your heads…” Achiyo gritted her teeth and cast Flash, trying to buy them some time to recover. Lakshmi, startled, assembled more aether spheres and cast them out in all directions.
Fordola yelled, back on her feet, and channeled a huge shield that zapped every aether sphere from the air before collapsing to her knees to gasp for air.
“Fordola!” Arenvald cried, distracted. “Are you all right?”
Fordola growled at him. “This… This is nothing!”
“Again and again you refuse my gift…” Lakshmi said mournfully. “Do not your sssouls weigh heavy?”
“Not that heavy!” Lyse retorted, punching her tail.
Arrows came zipping in over her shoulder, and a blast of umbral magic; Lakshmi turned to look as more Warriors of Light came running through the door. “Huzzah, we made it!” R’nyath cried.
“Hasn’t learned ‘er lesson, has she?” Chuchupa snickered. “I’d be right pleased to teach ‘er again!”
“Lyse, Raubahn, Arenvald… Fordola, please retreat,” Aentfryn said. “We’ll take it from here.” Selene swooped in to give Fordola a boost.
“I’ll stay!” Arenvald said. “I’ve got the Echo! So does Fordola!”
“Fine, just don’t get in the way,” Vivienne said, hacking at Lakshmi. Surrounded by so many – though Kekeniro and Rinala were not there – the primal was backed into a corner. Reluctantly, Raubahn and Lyse pulled back, though now Lakshmi had no chance to summon more aether spheres. It was not too much longer before she dissipated into raw aether.
“We did it!” Arenvald cheered, panting. “We beat her! …Is it always like this?”
“Pretty much!” R’nyath said, grinning. “At first you think this one’s too strong, that we’re screwed for sure this time… and then suddenly it dies.”
“Oh fer sure,” Chuchupa put in. “When I first saw Bahamut at Carteneau, I was like ‘how th’ hells ‘m I gonna fight that?’ – but we did eventually!”
“Good job, you, keeping up,” R’nyath said to him. “A-plus for your first time.”
Arenvald blushed. “That was unlike any battle I’ve ever seen before,” he said and climbed to his feet again. “I’m not entirely sure how I survived it, to be honest.”
“Thank you all for coming in such haste,” Achiyo said. “Truly, a most unexpected time and place to encounter a primal.”
“Right, well I have a question,” Vivienne said. “Why is she here?” She pointed at Fordola, who still stood half-turned away from everyone.
“I went to ask her for help,” Lyse said firmly. “Because we needed anyone who had the Echo, until you could get here.”
Achiyo saw the delegates peeking back into the room. “It is safe. You may enter.”
Alphinaud strode in, confident in her words, and the civilians crept in nervously behind him with more guards escorting them, as well as Y’shtola and Thancred. They saw Fordola and a murmur swept through them, all of them glaring hatefully at her. Fordola winced, caught in painful Echoes.
But she straightened, and without a word, held out her sword before her and dropped it on the ground with a flat expression. She turned to look at Lyse. “It’s done. Take me back to my cell.” She marched through the crowd of delegates, who pulled away, heading straight to the door with her head high and eyes forward.
“You are not forgiven,” said an old man, the leader of Ala Gannha, as she passed him. She stopped short without turning. “Not you. You I will never forgive.”
She began to walk again.
“But I will thank you,” he said, and she stopped again. “For standing against a primal and saving us from servitude – you have my thanks.”
Achiyo could only imagine Fordola’s emotions as she left the room, flanked by a pair of guards.
Lyse let out a deep breath. “Well. I don’t imagine we will have more interruptions like that… but we should take a break to recompose ourselves. I’ll order an investigation at once, and in the meantime, please take your leisure for a bell.” There was a murmur of agreement, and the delegates filed out again.
“All right, so that’s two major battles in that throne room,” Tam said. “Have you considered turning it into an arena? Since you’re not using it as a throne room anyway?”
Everyone looked at him, and then ignored him, though Chuchupa snickered softly. Lyse gestured to the others, and they also began to head out. “That was a near thing.”
“Aye, our stand against the Qalyana would have been brief indeed had we not had two Scions with the Echo present,” Raubahn said. “They must have planned this far in advance.”
Lyse wrung her hands a bit. “Security was my responsibility, and I know how dangerous primals can be. I should have- Gah! It’s my fault. My stupid mistake.”
“Nay, lass, we were all caught unawares,” Raubahn assured her. “We will take this as a lesson, and watch our own more carefully in future.”
“I think I shall make a habit of checking for primal influence before our meetings from now on,” Y’shtola said primly. Her ears were still back in annoyance. “If you mean to conduct an investigation, I can identify any others acting under Sri Lakshmi’s influence.”
“Thanks, Y’shtola,” Lyse said gratefully. “We’d appreciate the help.”
“As for the rest of you,” Raubahn said, “you can stand down. I very much doubt that someone else will be able to pull the same trick twice on us. Go get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
“We were barely in th’ fight!” Chuchupa whined. “Ain’t there anything else to fight ’round here?”
“I’m sure the locals can point you in the direction of various monsters,” Thancred said to her. “Achiyo and Arenvald, at least, have earned it. Not sure about the rest of you.”
Vivienne snorted. “Well, if we’re having a respite, we need to discuss something. Getting the team back up to strength.”
“True,” Achiyo said. “Lakshmi did not have as many crystals as last time, but we were without Kekeniro’s aid as well as Rinala. I am grateful for both Arenvald and Fordola… but Fordola, at least, must remain here and cannot be relied upon.” The last time they had fought a primal with only six of the original Warriors of Light was probably… Garuda, which put it back a bit.
“We should probably discuss that at least with Kekeniro present, however,” Aentfryn said. “His input is crucial to such a decision.”
“Fine,” Vivienne said. “We’ll head over to the Rising Stones as soon as Achiyo’s fit to travel.”
“Tomorrow, then,” Achiyo said. Truth be told, she probably could travel in a little while, but she did not want to be rushed. “Good night.”
Achiyo found it surprisingly difficult to sleep though the sun had set, and found herself heading to the garden behind the palace for air and starlight. There was plenty of both, and despite the light of the full moon it was dim enough that she could not recognize it as the place where Zenos had committed suicide, nor the place near where she had had a temporary death. She shuddered inadvertently and tried not to think about it. So many times she had been so close to death, and it had finally come for her, too fast to stop. At least she had not felt pain, it had been too quick for that. And then Rinala had wrought her miniature miracle. It had not been permanent. She had not given grief to her friends and family.
No. She really must needs think of something else. She truly didn’t recognize it in the dark, could not distinctly see the flowers though she could smell them. The moon was perfectly round, a silver dish in the heavens, and she cast about in her memory for fragments of Doman poetry she had learned in its praise. “The moon, grown full now over the sea, brightening the whole of heaven…” Oh. That one was a bit melancholy, and she was not particularly in a melancholy mood. Also the sea was not visible from here. “Brings to separated hearts the long thoughtfulness of night…”
Better after all to observe in serene silence.
After a while, she heard firm footfalls behind her, and glanced to see Raubahn, too, had come to take in the garden. She nodded to him in greeting, and he nodded back as he joined her. “A fine spot to contemplate the heavens…”
“Yes,” she said, and had no more to say.
After a pause, he spoke again. “The meeting is over. The envoys have chosen to instate a government modeled on Ishgard’s House of Commons – a ruling body of representatives elected by the people.”
“That sounds exactly what Lyse wished for,” Achiyo said. “Though it does sound complicated.” A further experiment – a House of Commons without a House of Lords. Alphinaud had partly explained some of the proposed intricacies to her, such as the procedures to ensure fair voting, and it had been a lot to swallow all at once. Well, no one had ever said that justice was simple.
“‘Tis a fair decision, and one which signals the end of my part in all this,” Raubahn said. “But I would gaze upon Gyr Abania’s stars one last time before I leave…”
Achiyo stood a while longer quietly beside him, but she was become as sleepy as she hoped, and she ought to give him some time to himself. So she bowed to him and went to leave.
The door to the throne room stood ajar, and slipping through was a small crowned figure. Achiyo had to stop and blink, for it was Sultana Nanamo. She had not really expected the young ruler to visit, at least not so soon, and she smiled at her, but Nanamo’s face was serious and determined.
Achiyo understood. She glanced at Raubahn again, back to the Sultana, and nodded encouragingly.
Nanamo nodded back and headed out as Achiyo headed in.
After that encounter, it was no great shock when Raubahn announced in the morning that he had been dismissed from Ul’dah. Lyse was thrilled, Raubahn was quietly glad, though clearly going to miss both Nanamo and Pipin, Pipin was filled with solemn determination as the new head of the Immortal Flames, and Nanamo thought it was hilarious, like she had just played a prank on everyone.
Thus it was with good spirits that the Warriors of Light returned to the Rising Stones. R’nyath, of course, was loudest. “Kekeniro! I know you’re on break, but we’ve got- What in the Matron’s name are you eating for lunch, Lilidi?”
“Mine,” Lilidi growled, hunched protectively over a plate of roast chicken doused with what looked like lemon meringue, next to a mound of plain green sprouts, and garlic bread topped with bacon.
“Mmm, that garlic bread with bacon smells amazing,” R’nyath said, teasing. “But I expect I’ll get my hand chopped off if I try to get any.”
“Yep,” Lilidi said, and took another big bite.
Kekeniro just laughed. “Welcome back. You have news I should know about?”
“Not news per se,” Achiyo said. “And we would be terribly remiss if we did not ask how you are both doing. I have not seen either of you in some time.”
“Oh, everything’s great,” Lilidi said, gesturing around at the quiet activity in the Scion headquarters. F’lhaminn waved from behind the bar. “I shouldn’t go adventuring as far as we used to, but we’ve been out a few times so I don’t go stir-crazy from being in one place for so long.”
“Yes, though after seeing the other side of the world, Eorzea seems a bit… small,” Kekeniro said. “I know her paths too well. At least the Shroud and Thanalan. We’re doing good, though. What did you want to talk about?”
“Well, we wish to discuss how we may strengthen the Warriors of Light while both you and Rinala are away,” Achiyo said.
“Achiyo’s burying the lede,” Vivienne said. “Lakshmi got summoned again yesterday, and Achiyo only had Arenvald and Fordola to help her until we got there, neither of whom are regulars.”
“Ah, I see,” Kekeniro said. “I mean, I’ll be back eventually. You’ve got another moon to go, right, dear?”
“About,” Lilidi confirmed. “Really, I’m fine to let you go back to work whenever you feel it necessary. I like having you around where I can keep an eye on you, but I’ll be well taken care of even if you have to step out to fight something, and doing your job is kind of important.”
“Well… even if you can do without me, I don’t want to miss, you know, the birth and all,” Kekeniro said. “I know you’ll have all the help you could want, but I want to help too. It’s my kid too.”
“Such an awkward way to say that you’re madly in love,” R’nyath teased them.
“We will try not to call on you unless absolutely necessary, but it would be good to have our tactician back,” Achiyo said. “But if you are agreed to be on call, then we shall not discuss who might take your place.” And pray that no one summoned a primal the day Lilidi went into labour?
Kekeniro nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll rejoin all the linkshells, so keep me updated.”
“All right, so let’s discuss who will be filling in for Rinala until she’s better, or replacing her if she decides she wants to step down permanently,” Aentfryn said.
“Well, I can fill in on healing,” R’nyath said. “It’s not my favourite thing, but I’m getting a bit better. I can keep people alive. So it’s not like we have to specifically look for healers.”
“That does make it easier,” Achiyo said. “I believe we know several people with the Echo.”
“Correct,” Aentfryn said. “I had Y’shtola make me a list of the ones we know best.”
“And those are?” Vivienne said. Aentfryn handed her the list. “Krile, but she’s not a combatant, Arenvald and Fordola, of course… Tharash, not a surprise, he did seem the sort… Khem, Reid… Yllamse?”
“I mean, why do we need ‘zackly eight?” Chuchupa said. “The more the merrier! Get ’em all!”
“Absolutely not,” F’lhaminn said from the bar. “I may not have the insight into Scion finances that Tataru does, but we can’t afford to put so many new members on payroll at once.”
“I like eight because we can split into two balanced teams,” Kekeniro said. “If we had enough to split into three balanced teams, that would be one thing, but we’ve done well enough with two teams. Think of how crazy things got in the Crystal Tower when we had all those people.”
“Very well,” Achiyo said. “Then let us keep it to one recruit for now, and discuss each person. They are all fine adventurers, and have aided us several times.”
The discussion lasted well into the evening, and concluded most unexpectedly.
Vivienne looked around. “Really? I’m outvoted on this?”
“She has skill,” Aentfryn said. “Khem might be the easiest to get along with…”
“Arenvald would be a shoo-in except we already have two defenders who aren’t interested in swapping roles,” R’nyath said. “He’s lacking in experience, but he’d get it hanging out with us. And then we wouldn’t have to add anyone new to payroll.”
That had been Achiyo’s stipulation: at the moment, she was their lead defender, and it was important to her that she remain in that role. She did not really have any other combat skills, nor did Vivienne. Not like Chuchupa, who could defend and attack with equal ease. Unfortunately, that did shut out Arenvald, and to an extent, Fordola. They did not need three defenders.
“Yllamse has the most experience besides Tharash, and she’s not as daft as she looks,” Tam said.
“And Tharash has a bit of an ego,” R’nyath said. “I know you wanted to vote for Reid, he fits your aesthetic…”
“That was not my reason,” Vivienne growled. “He has strength, and we need that as much as experience or personality.”
“Yllamse has the best balance of all three,” Kekeniro said. “In my opinion.”
“This assumes, of course, that she’s open to invitation,” Achiyo said. “I believe our ranked list would be Yllamse, then Khem, then Tharash, then Reid.” Three spellcasters and a brawler… though had she not seen Yllamse also cast spells as an arcanist? Some time ago… the First Battle of the Steps of Faith?
“I think Tharash over Khem, but it’ll be a moot point if Yllamse accepts,” Kekeniro said.
“I wasn’t expectin’ that,” Chuchupa said. “But I’m game. Let’s go get ‘er!”
“And whoever we get, we’ll be counting on you to drill us in the practise yard,” Vivienne said to Kekeniro. “So even if you’re not there, we’ll still work as a team.”
“Of course!” Kekeniro said. “I wouldn’t be doing half my job if I didn’t!”
“Drinks!” R’nyath called. “We’ve come to a consensus!”
F’lhaminn brought their usual drink orders over with a smile. Wine for Achiyo, whisky for Tam, cold fresh milk for Lilidi, rum for Chuchupa, and various beers and ales for the rest. “A weighty decision, I would think – I can’t imagine what it is that you go through whenever you fight one of those primals.”
“Oh, once you eliminate the possibility of getting magically brainwashed forever, it’s not so bad,” R’nyath said cockily.
Vivienne swatted his ear. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course it’s bad. Very few of the most powerful and dangerous monsters in the world even come close to matching a primal – and most of those monsters are actually dragons.”
“Who are not monsters, but people, and we have no need to fight them,” Achiyo said. Perhaps she didn’t need to say it, but Vivienne had phrased it rather poorly. But she was right – Ifrit a few years ago had been unlike anything she’d ever fought before, and things had only gotten more complicated from there.
“Right, that reminds me – so how do we call you now?” Tam asked her. “Achiyo Kensaki de Fortemps?” How in the world had he been reminded by- well, it didn’t matter.
R’nyath giggled before she could answer. “And when you get married it’s going to be Achiyo Kensaki-Fortemps de Borel. You’re collecting names.”
“Put yer other dad’s name in as well, what’s ‘is name?” Chuchupa said.
No, she was not going by Achiyo Kensaki-Byers-Fortemps de Borel. That was ridiculous, no matter her love for all of them. “I am still Achiyo Kensaki. I will not abandon my birth father, not when I am the last of his line. ‘Tis only making legal what was already plain to anyone who wished to look.”
“It’s a bit odd, getting adopted when you’re already an adult,” Lilidi said. “How old are you again?”
“Em…” Achiyo thought. Every year it became harder to recollect. “Thirty, now.” One would think a round number easy to remember.
“Ha!” Chuchupa cried. “Ye’re older than me now.”
Everyone looked at the pirate. “What?” Vivienne said flatly. “Do I want to know how?”
Chuchupa smirked. “I been twenny-nine fer a few years now. And that ain’t gonna change ’til I says so!”
“That’s not how chronology works,” Kekeniro said. “Or math.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being thirty,” said the five-thousand year old being on the other side of the table. “Plenty of good people have been thirty. Like Achiyo.”
“Don’t matter! I ain’t thirty ’til I party over it, and I ain’t gonna, no matter how much booze ye give me.”
“Don’t give me ideas,” R’nyath said. “I will absolutely throw you the biggest surprise party in Revenant’s Toll.”
“Don’t ye dare, if ye like havin’ a tail.” Chuchupa glared and waved her mug dangerously in his direction.
“So what else have you been up to?” F’lhaminn asked, leaning her hip on the table casually. “It’s been a while since you have all been in one place. How is Rinala doing? Have you checked in on her recently?”
“I do not think she has gotten better yet,” Aentfryn said. “Nor has she gotten worse. She applies herself listlessly to weaving and fishing, though her parents say she spends much time abed.” He paused. “I do not think they are well-pleased with us for allowing her to come to this state.”
“Understandable,” R’nyath said mournfully. “We should’ve intervened much sooner.”
“Or given Thancred a kick in the pants,” Vivienne groused. “Maybe it would have been better for him to break her heart once and for all, and then she can sodding hit rock bottom and pick herself up again. No man is worth this.”
“His first priority is, as it has been for years, worrying about Minfilia,” F’lhaminn said gently. “There is nothing he can do for her from here, yet he can’t help it. I’ve seen him a few times in the last few moons – he is doing better at putting a strong face on, yet it still consumes him.”
“There is only so much one heart can hold,” Achiyo murmured. How well she knew it. …And yet she thought he could also do better at considering other people too. Even she, who had no particular interest in him, had felt him still rather cold compared to how he used to be, and he was not recovering either; stagnating in his grief. She was not worried for her own sake; she had other friends. Yet that was not enough for Rinala, apparently. “Well. I had thought that removed from the worry of safeguarding the realm, Rinala might recover something of her former cheer, even if she cannot stop pining. Perhaps we must find something new to spark her interest.”
“Dancing,” Tam said, leaning back in his chair. “She likes dancing, doesn’t she? When was the last time she did any?”
“A very good question,” F’lhaminn said. “I remember how much she loved it when I first came to you all. I’ll go down there myself to encourage her. What’s more, I’ve heard that Troupe Falsiam is coming to Eorzea on tour from Thavnair. I’ll take her to one of their shows and introduce her.”
“Ooh, can I come?” R’nyath said. “I don’t know Troupe Falsiam, but I’m always down to see Thavnairian dancing! Tam, you also like that, don’t you?”
“I’ve been dancing,” Tam said with mild affront. “With the sylphs. Until they passed out from too much milkroot. Cute little bundles of green and purple leaves flopped everywhere, bouncing on the drumskin.”
“My stars,” Kekeniro said. “And how much did you drink?”
Tam grinned. “You don’t want to know.”
“You’re right,” Vivienne said. “Well, you appear to be still standing, so clearly it could be worse.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Aentfryn said. “If he runs into trouble, who is it who has to fix it?”
“Not me,” Vivienne said. “Another beer, F’lhaminn?”
“Right away,” F’lhaminn said with a smile. “You lot are so lively.”
Achiyo went the next morning out to the wall of Revenant’s Toll, and found Vivienne already there. She did not like to say often that the Dark Knight was brooding, because that seemed an unfair stereotype, but there was no doubt about it today: Vivienne was brooding. “Ah, gomen.”
“Wait,” Vivienne said, turning away from her glowering contemplation of the blasted crystal wasteland. “I actually want to talk to you.”
Achiyo came towards her and waited. Vivienne took a breath to speak, then stopped again, still wrestling with her thoughts. It was very unlike Vivienne to hesitate. Unless it was something deeply personal. “What is it?”
“If… you could see anyone from your past again, would you want to?” Vivienne asked slowly.
Of course. Without question. Her birth parents and Percival – but Vivienne seemed to imply only one person. Therefore, much as she would wish to find out if Tamehiro and Ayame might be proud of her, she would want beyond anything to see Percival again, to tell him how she had thrived in Eorzea, to tell him how much she had grown to love it and its people. “I would. But that will never happen.”
Vivienne leaned harder on the wall. “Apparently it’s not completely impossible. You want to see your adopted dad again, for a moment, I know… someone.”
Achiyo frowned. “Speak plain. What are you suggesting?”
Vivienne sighed. “I still don’t know the ins and outs of it, but recently, a weird little kid appeared in Ishgard and stole half of my soul crystal-”
“What? How?”
“Don’t know, decided it’s not important,” Vivienne said, enviably blasé. “He… can summon… I don’t know if it really is the souls of the dead, but he acts like they are. He reads memories and uses my soul crystal’s aether to turn them into people. For a while. If you stop thinking about them, they dissolve back into aether. Which I get back.”
Achiyo frowned harder. “For what purpose does he do that?”
“He claims it brings… closure. Heals some of the pain echoing through the world. And if anyone could use some closure on a past relationship… it’s you, isn’t it?”
Achiyo stepped closer to her. “Not you?”
Vivienne shook her head. “I thought about it. But I made my peace with my parents’ loss… a while ago.” She gave Achiyo a glance. “You’re surprised.”
“Perhaps,” Achiyo said. If she was at peace, why was she still so angry?
Either her face spoke for her, or Vivienne logicked what she would say next. “I’m pissed off about other things now. Twenty…two years of talking to their graves – since you know I missed last year – has got me reconciled to it. I’ve found my own way, grown up on my own. My brother’s grown up. If they’re not proud of me for surviving, turning my life around, and somehow even becoming a rutting hero, then I don’t care. But you lost your dad only a few years ago.”
“Five springs, and it is nearly autumn now,” Achiyo said. “I… don’t know. I must think on it. Perhaps it will only bring me more pain. Until recently I could not even speak of him with composure.”
“Hence why you didn’t so much as mention him until the Echo started shoving him into all our awareness,” Vivienne said. “No problem. I don’t even know if the kid would agree to it. He prefers more depressed people. And while seeing your dad again would make you happy, you’re not lacking for conviction and purpose in your life.”
True. To see Percival again, even for a short while… But it wouldn’t really be him, from what Vivienne said. Her memory given form… just to say comforting things to her… Once she would have jumped at even that. But now…
She had not visited his grave since she had buried him. It was in a rather out-of-the-way corner of Yanxia, near the Steppe but not near any of the main roads; there had been no time in planning a revolution to indulge in long personal journeys like that. But if she was ever in Yanxia again, she ought to go. That might do more for her than to see something that might not be any more than a pretty lie. “I know what he would say. To actually hear it is unnecessary; to hear it from a simulacrum would bring no comfort.” Well… it would, simply to hear his voice once more, but she would know it was false and that would trouble her long after the comfort had passed.
Vivienne seemed pleased. “That’s good to hear. I’ve got my doubts about his choice of therapy, though it seems to work for some people, but you’ve always had a sound head on your shoulders.” She continued more softly. “He carries so much guilt. Maybe it’s my guilt, maybe he is my guilt – that I didn’t do enough. That I did too much wrong. So he wants to do something, anything, even if that attempt changes nothing…”
“No one can change the world alone…” Achiyo murmured. How well she knew it, after long years of living helplessly in Doma. “But mayhap we may change the world one person at a time.”
“And that’s why we work together,” Vivienne said. The Dark Knight would never admit it out loud, but that was as close as Achiyo ever heard her say that she was glad to have joined the Scions.
Hilda had recovered the stolen sword Hrunting without R’nyath’s help, though the Hounds had not received any accolades for it – no one could know how easily the Vault had been infiltrated. And yet Hilda, backed by Rostnsthal, had the feeling that they’d recovered it too easily. Thus R’nyath appeared for the Hounds’ regular machinist drills and was set upon by their agitated leader. “The drills’ll keep. We need to pay us a visit to Muscadain, and convince him to take a closer look at that sword.”
“Hold up, what?” R’nyath blurted. “What’s wrong with the sword? Is it the wrong one?”
Hilda grumbled and filled him in on everything he’d missed. “We was led by the nose to reclaim Hrunting before it was sold. And the quickest way to learn the why of it might be to ask the blade itself.”
“Got it,” R’nyath said. “Sorry I was gone so long, I had family to visit and another primal to kill.”
“Well, you’re here now,” Hilda said. “Come along before I grab your ear. To be honest, I ain’t all that eager to talk to that blue-blooded bastard, but I suppose we all have to make sacrifices.”
Up to the Congregation, and Hilda found Muscadain in his tiny office, shoving R’nyath ahead of her.
Muscadain rose to greet them at the interruption. “Master R’nyath, how may I… ah.” His face went flat as he saw Hilda. “You again. Was there some choice insult you’d forgotten to spit at me during our previous meeting?”
Hilda grimaced. “Truce, Muscadain. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.”
“It’s about Hrunting!” R’nyath piped up, but let Hilda explain since she actually knew the facts first-hand.
Muscadain nodded as he listened, his brow furrowed.”I see. So you believe that Hrunting may have been altered in some fashion before you were ‘allowed’ to reclaim it?”
Hilda waved her arms; R’nyath wondered if he should calm her down lest she look like a madwoman. “It’s a bit too bloody convenient, don’t you think? Maybe I’m wrong, but I’d rather look the fool than risk summat happenin’ at the ceremony. We need to check that sword!”
R’nyath nodded vigorously. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
Muscadain stared at Hilda thoughtfully. “I must admit, your passion confounds me. The blade is recovered and your Hounds have done their duty. Why bother pursuing such a faint suspicion? Why willingly endure the presence of a man you so clearly despise?”
Hilda’s lip curled, offended and yet determined at the same time. “Oh, aye, I hate your bleedin’ guts. But once we take on a job, we do the damn thing right! R’nyath and his friends gave their all to save Ishgard. How could I look them in the eyes if I let our petty feud get in the way of my duty!”
“Aww,” R’nyath mumbled. “Thanks, Hilda!”
“You’re welcome, be quiet,” she snapped.
“…Such pride. I’ve not seen this side of you before.” There was a strange little hint of a smile on Muscadain’s face. Hilda blinked at him, uncomprehending, and he turned away to pace the few steps his office allowed, thinking. “It is as you say. If there truly is some flaw or trickery in the blade that disrupts the ceremony, the consequences could be grave indeed. And yet there are rules in place which prevent me from simply handing Hrunting over to the Hounds. Furthermore, our resident blacksmith has already inspected the recovered weapon and declared it sound.”
Hilda inhaled to gather steam again. “Even so, we should-”
“Even so, I will call upon Lord Stephanivien to conduct an independent examination,” Muscadain said, deflating her before she could get going. “A machinist may notice a detail that a blacksmith would overlook. I trust this can be accomplished with the requisite discretion?” He fixed R’nyath with a stare.
“Oh sure, Stephanivien is ideal,” R’nyath said. “I suppose the only person more impartial would be Cid, but first you have to track him down, and Stephanivien is right here.” And they’d have to pay the Ironworks more than the Manufactory, not that he thought that would be a concern with the Temple Knights’ budget.
Muscadain nodded decisively. “Very good. As far as the release of Hrunting is concerned, the Manufactory is a sanctioned facility. The bureaucrats will be satisfied even should I secure the necessary permissions after the fact. I shall begin making the arrangements.” He bowed to them and left the office at a brisk walk.
R’nyath strolled out more casually, heading for the main entrance. “Wow, he gets stuff done.” Muscadain really didn’t seem all that bad, and R’nyath was itching more than ever to get Hilda to spill the tea, but she’d probably just get more mad after she’d been denied her argument.
She still seemed confused herself. “Yes… that’s that, then. Let’s get back to the Brume.”
The other Hounds were still practicing in their yard, and Hilda filled in Symme and Eudestand. Eudestand nodded sagely. “Lord Stephanivien will get to the bottom of this, you see if he doesn’t. Best thing we can do is get back to our drills and leave him to it.”
Symme sighed. “Now, I know I’m not the sharpest fork in the drawer, but after this odd business with that sword, I’m starting to think that maybe I need to change that. Our job’s more’n just scrapping with thieves – sometimes we need to use our heads.”
“I support you, friend!” R’nyath said to him. “Let me know if I can help.”
Symme regarded him thoughtfully. “Mayhap you can. Let’s chat over it sometime.”
“Don’t leave me out!” Eudestand said. “We could all do with a bit of mind sharpening. Though we still have to practise our aim, too, Symme.”
“I’m on it, I’m on it!” Both lieutenants scarpered back towards the firing range.
“You still look like somebody bonked you with a chair leg,” R’nyath said to Hilda. Not that they’d ever been in such a dramatic bar fight.
She shook her head. “Muscadain’s not known for his love of the lowborn. I didn’t expect he’d just… I thought I’d have to put up more of a fight, is what I’m sayin’.”
“I mean, you showed that you weren’t a selfish mammet cog in the system,” R’nyath said. “You’ve showed what they think of as knightly honour, and the stick up his butt responds favourably to that.”
Hilda just gave him a revolted look. “Maybe think about rephrasin’ that.”
“Ummmm…” C’mon, he was a bard, he ought to be good with words! Except that really was Guydelot’s thing… “I think you and he both have Ishgard’s best interests at heart. You do it in different ways, but he’s coming to realize that just because it’s different doesn’t mean that it isn’t good. And that’s probably a new thought for him.”
“Well… All right.” Hilda sighed. “If you say so. …And I meant what I said. I’ll never forget watching you all on the Steps of Faith, facing down our nightmares for us. If you can do that, I can figure out a bleedin’ sword.”
R’nyath blushed. “I’m very honoured that you think of us as… um, role models. I’ll pass it on to the others if that’s okay.”
“Sure, you do that. Bloody hells, I’m going to need a drink when this is over. You’re welcome to come too.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that.”
A day later, and not a moment too soon, Hilda, Rostnsthal, and R’nyath were summoned to the Manufactory early in the morning. Well, Hilda was summoned, and the other two tagged along. They found Stephanivien waiting with Muscadain, who looked like he’d just arrived himself. The knight glanced them over, then spoke to the engineer. “All the relevant parties appear to be present. If you would, Lord Stephanivien?”
Stephanivien nodded. “Very well. I’ll cut straight to the point: I discovered a small bomb concealed inside the hilt of the sword.” He held up a thin… it looked like a black stick. “This particular explosive was part of a batch intended for Temple Knight training purposes, and is designed to be detonated from a distance. I won’t bore you with specifics, but I assure you that I am quite familiar with its capabilities – after all, I was the one who made it.”
Hilda stared at it and wrinkled her nose. “Bloody hells… Someone went to a lot of trouble to sneak that bomb into the ceremony. An assassination attempt?”
“Unlikely,” Stephanivien said. “As I said, these bombs were designed for training exercises – even if you were grasping the hilt when it exploded, you wouldn’t even lose a finger. Some nasty burns, at the worst.”
“That would be more than enough,” Muscadain said. “If the sacred blade were to be dropped during the investitures, many in the crowd would interpret that as a sign from the Fury. The Lord Commander’s authority would come into question, and responsibility for the incident would fall squarely upon the Hounds.”
“What!? That’s way too convoluted!” R’nyath protested. “And circumstantial!”
“And entirely likely to work,” Stephanivien said. “So someone wishes to discredit the Watch beyond salvation. That would explain the ridiculous rumors presently circulating amongst the lords and ladies…”
Hilda stiffened. “Rumors? What rumors?”
Stephanivien shrugged. “Why, that Hrunting’s theft and recovery was orchestrated entirely by the Watch itself. Some of the more impressionable members of the nobility are convinced you armed bandits with firearms, instructed them to steal the sword, then captured them yourselves to elevate your standing.”
“Then the mood’s already sour an’ simmerin’,” Rostnsthal said. “If the sword exploded on top o’ that, it’d be like throwin’ oil on the fire! Reason be damned, it’d be the Watch’s ‘eads on the choppin’ block!”
“Wait, I thought that the whole theft and recovery was a secret, so people didn’t think it was easy to rob the Vault,” R’nyath said.
“That was correct!” said Muscadain with consternation. “I ordered the events surrounding Hrunting’s theft to be kept in the strictest of confidences… Who could have instigated the gossip behind these baseless accusations?”
“The woman who arranged the theft,” Hilda said. “She would know all about it, wouldn’t she?”
Muscadain nodded slowly. “I suspect this villainess fears the threat to the status quo, and the high profile of the Hounds has made you a target. A strike against you is a strike against the idea of any commoner bearing the power of a firearm…”
Hilda snorted. “I’m flattered to know we’ve become so important, but she picked the wrong pack of dogs to corner. Now it’s our turn to go on the hunt.”
“Goin’ after the mastermind, eh?” Rostnsthal said. “I’m all for a bit o’ retribution, but we’ll need a better description than ‘overpainted wench’.”
Stephanivien smiled smugly. “Fortunately, my prospectometer and I are one step ahead of you this time! As soon as I discovered the bomb, I set to work crafting a device that would help us pinpoint the location of its paired detonator.”
“…And thus lead us directly to the one who holds it,” Muscadain said. “I propose we simply proceed with the ceremony as planned, and catch this fool red-handed.”
Hilda looked at R’nyath. “Not a bad plan – as long as we’re prepared for any accomplices she might have lurkin’ along with her.”
Stephanivien handed a big silver sword with an ornate silver and blue hilt to Muscadain. “The ceremony is almost upon us,” Muscadain said as he took it. “Let us steel ourselves for the task ahead.”
Mid-morning, and while the Watch had gone to their assigned places to observe the ceremony within the Vault – did they really need the Watch for security when everybody else in the ceremony was a Temple Knight, even if newly minted? Anyway, the Watch had gone off, and R’nyath was hanging out with Hilda and Rostnsthal, watching Stephanivien fiddle with his thingymabob.
“…What’s takin’ so long, boss?” Rostnsthal said finally, antsy. “The ceremony’s already begun.”
Stephanivien was still calm and confident. “Some quiet, if you will! If I can catch the exact moment the detonator is activated…” The device chirped, and his eyes lit up. “I have it! The signal came from the far edge of the Brume!” He pointed down an alleyway.
“That’s some range on the detonator,” R’nyath said. “Impressive work, Steve.”
“Oh, pish, that part was simple,” Stephanivien said. “I’ll show you how, if you’re interested.”
“The smug bastards are hidin’ right in our home territory,” Hilda said grimly. “Right, then. We’d best go give ’em a proper bloody welcome!”
The culprit wasn’t difficult to spot. Why else would a bunch of people in fine clothes be loitering in a (fairly clean) corner, looking furtive? The finest-dressed among them, an Elezen woman R’nyath vaguely recognized, was talking into her linkpearl, and he heard her exclaim: “What!? Nothing!? Not even a puff of smoke!?”
“Surprise!” Hilda called, folding her arms sassily. “We found your bomb.”
“The Hounds!” the woman gasped. She did have a lot of lipstick.
Hilda narrowed her eyes as she also recognized her. “…I know you. You’re that noble bitch what ignored me outside the Vault. In the right place at the right time to plant that bandit rumor, eh? And I suppose you was the one who penned that contract of sale, too.”
Oh no. Hilda was being hot again. That righteous glare of justice, that low drawl, and the hair and the leather… Agh!
The noblewoman smiled nervously, putting on a haughty air… but it was a shaky one. “Wh-What nonsense is this!? I have no memory of fraternizing with commoners!” Her eyes darted back and forth, and she seemed on the verge of a nervous giggle.
Hilda smirked some more. “Hah, got your attention this time, didn’t I? A good thing, too, since I’ve a wagonload more questions for you. Here’s one: are your inquisitor friends there goin’ to come quietly?” The woman and her companions cowered from her fierce gaze.
“You and your “Hounds” will be the only ones surrendering their arms this day,” said a new voice from the right, and Hilda and her followers looked to see a number of Temple Knights marching up. “Not only have you interfered with official Inquisitorial business, you’ve also insulted and accused an innocent member of the nobility. Mayhap a spell in the dungeons will remind you of your station!”
“Now, see here!” exclaimed Stephanivien indignantly. “The Hounds have solid evidence that these individuals are party to a serious crime. Speak with Ser Muscadain, and all will be expl-” He was cut off by the knights drawing their swords, flinching in shock.
“No, they’re co-conspirators,” R’nyath explained to him. “Their arrival is too convenient.”
Rostnsthal nodded knowingly. “Now we meet the rest o’ the rats. If ye was wonderin’ ‘ow the noble wench got ‘old of a trainin’ bomb or cleared a route through the Vault for them bandits, then ‘ere’s yer answer. I reckoned they’d show their whiskers sooner or later.”
Hilda was still smirking sarcastically. “You’re sworn to protect Ishgard, and you choose to throw your lot in with this highborn dolt? Ser Aymeric’s fightin’ to keep the city from tearin’ itself apart! Why don’t you just stab a blade in his back, while you’re at it?”
“Don’t give them ideas!” R’nyath cried anxiously.
“Hon, they’ve already considered it,” Hilda reminded him. “The answer is: they can’t.”
The noblewoman suddenly tittered, no fear in her face now that she’d had reinforcements. “Hmph. The time for empty bravado has passed, child. We are not common savages – give yourselves up, and I promise you shall live to see the morrow.”
Hilda snickered right back. “Hah, you can stick that “promise” right up your arse. That common enough for you?” The noblewoman gasped in great offense. Hilda rolled her eyes, shook her head, drew her gun, and took two steps forward. “This is over. In our authority as Ishgard’s Watch, we’re takin’ you in for the crimes of larceny, insurgency, and general bloody idiocy!”
The fight was brief. The knights were not the Congregation’s best, no surprise there – if they even were Temple Knights? R’nyath wouldn’t put it past them to have stolen uniform armour to try and get Hilda to cooperate. But between Hilda’s gun, and R’nyath’s gun, and Rostnsthal’s axe, and even Steve pitching in with a judicious clout of a wrench here and there, the knights were soon overcome. Hilda apparently did not care about taking them in for questioning, shooting them dead before they could strike her or Stephanivien.
“That went well,” she said cheerfully. “…Wait, where’s the noblewoman?”
“Bah, the wench must’ve slipped away while we was in the thick of it,” Rostnsthal said, looking around. “She can’t ‘ave gotten far!”
Stephanivien pointed. “There! She flees towards the Arc!”
Aw crap. R’nyath took off running. The others were minions; this woman had answers to give. He heard Hilda call after him, startled, but they followed him.
At the top of the stairs, the woman came face-to-face with Muscadain. With a panicked look behind her, she flung herself into his arms dramatically and burst into tears. “Aid, ser knight! I know not their grievance, but these lowborn ruffians seek to cause me harm!”
Muscadain set her on her feet again away from him with a look of supreme distaste, and R’nyath could hardly keep down a burst of laughter as he caught up. “Let us dispense with the theatrics, Baroness Melisie,” Muscadain said with a sigh. “After capturing your accomplice at the ceremony, it was surprisingly easy to prise free the details of your plan.”
The baroness raised her head in shock. “You have sided with these… these common curs!? I’d thought you a proud member of the nobility! As one of the chosen few, how can you countenance any act that places power in the filthy hands of the Brume-born!?”
“The chosen few?” Muscadain had looked annoyed before; he looked angry now. “An accident of birth allowed us the privilege to fight for our nation, and I for one welcome our new comrades-in-arms. Your actions brand you an enemy of Ishgard, and you will pay for your crimes!” He drew his sword.
The baroness snarled. “This is blasphemy – I am an Inquisitor! You betray your bloodline, and thus it falls to me to excise the corruption seeping into our nation’s veins!” She drew a thaumaturge’s staff and began to cast a fireball at them; everyone dodged. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!”
The regular people passing through the Arc of the Worthy screamed and ran, and other Temple Knights on guard duty came running.
R’nyath might have worried for a moment that it was a little unfair, five on one, even if that one was a traitorous criminal who was flinging fireballs everywhere, but in a moment any worries he had about that were replaced by new worries. “I will turn to heresy if I must! Perish by fire and fang!” She grabbed a vial from her pocket – who just kept stuff like that in their pocket?? – and gulped it. She made a short cry as her body changed, and a moment later a two-story-tall drake stood before them, and raised its fist to smash it down on Muscadain’s shield. Shite. R’nyath was going to need a new strategy.
Stephanivien gasped. “I’d heard the tales, but to see the transformation first-hand…”
Hilda tackled him out of the way of a blast of firebreath. “Can’t say I expected that from an Inquisitor… She’s lost her bloody marbles!”
“Death to the lowborn! Death to all vermin!” screamed the dragon, claws raking across the stone as it slashed at Muscadain and Rostnsthal and the other Temple Knights. “Burn! Burn in righteous flame! You have defiled my beloved Ishgard! I will turn this city to ash!” She raised her claws, summoning a massive fireball that grew bigger and bigger with every moment.
“I don’t like the looks o’ that!” Rostnsthal cried. “Do summat!”
“I am not certain…” Stephanivien trailed off.
“Knights-!” Muscadain began.
A bullet zinged through the dragon’s eye, knocking its head back, and it toppled heavily to the ground. The fireball sailed harmlessly out of the city towards the mountains. Everyone turned to look; R’nyath had climbed on a scaffolding to get a better view, steadying his rifle by lying prone, and had lined up his shot juuuust right. Hilda smiled and applauded; so did Stephanivien.
The dragon’s form dissolved, leaving the body of the baroness behind. Apparently that shot to the dragon’s head had done her no lasting harm, because she sat up… and was promptly arrested by Muscadain and the other knights. The knights bound her hands and marched her away as R’nyath climbed down from his post and rejoined his friends.
Muscadain watched the baroness go. “…It is finished.” He sighed, and there was relief in it. “The baroness and her cronies believe that none but the nobility are fit to lead Ishgard’s people. They resented efforts to bring highborn and lowborn closer in standing, and ‘twould seem that the Hounds’ formation was too great a threat to be endured.”
Hilda glanced at her retreating back with disgruntlement. “All we want’s a little respect and the strength to defend our home. What are they so bloody afraid of?”
“They fear the erosion of their status, and I must confess to feeling a whisper of that unreasoning terror,” Muscadain said. “Had I succumbed to my jealousy and hate, I may have joined them upon their twisted path. But I had misjudged you. I believed you so reviled the circumstances of your birth, that you sought only to bring ruin upon Ishgard.”
Hilda chuckled. “Until recently, you wouldn’t have been far off the mark. It was R’nyath and Ser Aymeric who convinced me that fightin’ for change was a damn sight more worthwhile than addin’ to the misery.”
I’m so flattered, R’nyath wanted to put in, but it felt like they were having a moment, so he didn’t.
“…Indeed,” Muscadain said, and turned to face Hilda. “Pray forgive the barbs I have slung at you and your Hounds, Captain. I have been blind to the courage and determination of the commonfolk, and I humbly request that the Watch continue to aid us in the defence of the city.”
Hilda gave a wry shrug. “…You didn’t deserve all the spite I spat at you, neither. I see his face when I look at you, and I just can’t bloody help myself. I’ll try to work on that, though, eh?”
It was weird, R’nyath thought, looking between the two of them. They almost looked… fond of each other?
“I must go now and see to the processing of the prisoners,” Muscadain said, smiling. “…Be well, Sister.”
The little group let him get some ways away before there was a collective chorus of: “…Sister!?”
Stephanivien was the first to collect himself. “You are siblings, then? I was unaware that you and Ser Muscadain were so closely connected.”
Hilda grimaced. “Left that part out, did I? Aye, he’s my half-brother – born to another woman after my darlin’ dad cast my mum back onto the streets.”
“Well, that’s… That ain’t a thing what ye just blurt out now, is it?” Rostnsthal stammered.
“Wait… no wonder you’re both…” R’nyath mumbled, then stopped himself before he said ‘hot’. That explained the look Hilda had given him when he’d said Muscadain was cute. “No wonder you kept yelling at him even when he was being mostly normal!”
Hilda snorted at him. “Not summat I bring up often, no. And I don’t reckon Muscadain was too keen on declarin’ his relation to the Mongrel, especially after he’d inherited the old man’s estate.”
“Well, might be as ye can put that bad blood behind ye now,” Rostnsthal said. “Better’n drownin’ in it, anyroad.”
Hilda turned to look in the direction Muscadain had left in. “Might be as you’re right, Rostnsthal.” And she smiled.
Stephanivien put his hands on her shoulders with a proud smile. “A most admirable woman you’ve become, my dear, not to mention a champion to the people of the Brume. It seems I was right to put that firearm in your hand.”
“And I thank you for takin’ that gamble,” Hilda said, giving him a little bow. “You gave me more’n just a weapon that day: you gave me control over my fate. If it weren’t for you, I’d likely still be scroungin’ in the street and cursin’ at the sky.”
“‘Tis gratifying indeed to see how far you’ve come,” Stephanivien said. If Muscadain was her younger brother, then Stephanivien was like her older brother, R’nyath mused to himself. “Now, I really must return to the workshop. This mountain of commissions only grows larger the longer I neglect it…as Joye would so sharply remind me!” He gave them all a wave, and strolled away.
“We’d best get back to the Brume ourselves,” Hilda said. “The ceremony’ll be long over, and Symme and Eudestand’ll be wondering what’s become of us. And then there’s that drink to see to.”